Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
But the thing I know most will be curious about - just how does that damned Five-SeveN shoot? Well, I will spare you the obligatory shooter stance picture - my call sign will have to be Short Round. Instead, we can take a look at the first shots. From, I think, 75 ft...
It was a tad high so we dialed it down a bit. I had a few issues with that expectation thing - breathing, aiming, squeezing so that it is a surprise...I had to settle into it. That is why I like the weight of the 1911 - it keeps things neat and tidy, reaction-wise. This thing is light as a bird and wants to flit around.
Its grip is wide. I'd say it was almost too wide for my hobbity hands but so nicely checkered that I can manage.
I was shooting some very fine rounds - they are jewel-like in their box. Special, I only tossed a dozen or so at the target and a few evil bowling pins. I'll have to get some lesser quality ammo for future practice.
Let's see the pins, shall we? The front...yes, those tiny little vampiric pricks...
And the back...these were some rather gnarly free range pins, all soggy and nasty, so I am not certain the real impact is reflected here. We hope for a feral hog to show itself and we might then get a better idea.
Now, I know some may be concerned for the level of lethality of this thing - so goes the general chatter online. But they forget that the bad guys are all donning the vests, now. Every southern - er - family army(of which an especially evil version resides very nearby) is better trained and geared up than most police forces. If they choose to make me a target, I intend to be at least as well-provided for as they are. Hopefully, better.
Let me see if I can express the way the thing shoots...it is very like shooting a plinking .22, yes. But with a real *crack*. It is a cinch to get back on target shot after shot as there is little muzzle rise. And what I really liked was that it is easier to perform ye olde trigger reset than I've ever known. Almost instinctually set for it, if that makes sense. All my other weapons I have to give it thought - I do not shoot often enough for it to be muscle memory. This one just...works...
I have to say - I am very pleased, indeed, even if Trooper used all the egg money to get the damned thing. How can you stay mad at a man who gives you such a lovely gift? Now, I just have to get Kirkpatrick on the line for a new holster - I love their Texas Strong Side version and got two for the 1911. A lady has to color coordinate, after all!
Now, I just need to think of a good nickname for the thing...
Friday, December 24, 2010
So starts a book that I read infrequently but the words remain imprinted. Faery tales, legends, truths and lies from the moment man looked from sun to moon and wondered how and why...those things were once my diet, whole. The same story, over and over, with local embellishments for flavor. And every one of them thinks they have the only answer.
"I see the first ones lately much more clearly
Spilling blood along the turning ground..."
There is so much window dressing on the myths that it is impossible to see the original. It became so confused when man decided to use it - to become the intercessionary. I was a precocious child. I needed my own answers and one tome led to another so that I could peg a thing - a symbol - from its innocent beginning to its warped tenet. It was important to me that I know. No mysteries permitted. And I sought all manner of knowledge.
In time, I came to see that it isn't what you name a thing but what you do with it. No need to call it God if you prefer to see it in the love of your dog. No reason to dress on Sunday if you hear the hymn of the forest. It is a quest to name the ineffable, a desire for a preview of what we will never know. And with all that busy preoccupation we leave ourselves vulnerable.
"...Gabriel before me...Raphael behind me..."
The earth will spin, we will come and go, and what matters is what we do and who we are. So as we round the curve into the new year and the trials to come Remember Grace.
Addendum: I wrote the above before finding the excellent post from the lovely Joan. Damn, but she's so much better at this...
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Maybe this is her better side?
I cannot WAIT to try it out! Trigger pull seems nice and easy. Now, admittedly, this one is light because it is polymer. But nothing about it is cheap or flimsy.
And the cool thing is we won a free holster at the GT Glocktoberfest so I can get one just for the wee thing. But first she needs a name.
I must have been very good, indeed.
P.S. If you want one, my pal can get it - there was some sort of mil/LEO discount program until December 31st so move fast! Leave a note in the comments if you want details.
Listen to the man who is trying to hoist his losing country to freedom and of how his own freedoms have been the price.
Go here and get a shirt - they'll customize it to U.S. division. Heck, I bet you can even get a Texas Division. Do what you can to support the poor bastards. God help him and his family.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
I am mortally tired. Mentally exhausted, I worried for my commute home today. "Lines, watch that lane, are they slowing?" It was as if I had a personal blue screen of death creeping up on me and I wondered, distantly, if it was a taste of what those who have panic attacks suffer.
Too much work, too much technical bullshit and change going on, and the dogs - God, the dogs...I haven't got it in me tonight to deal with them. A quick walk then home, they've managed to entertain themselves since. But I cannot help but consider that this is how it will be for weeks. Maybe longer. And I must not complain. It is, truly, a very good shift.
I am not a fan of the season, really. Never have been. Perhaps it was too many holiday evenings alone that turned me away from them. It feels like I'm being a whiny bitch. I watch something like this and wonder.
A friend who can fly anything with wings or blade had spoken of the very thing recently - the gentle feathering, the need to balance the craft on a wheel as the load of man and burden forces the craft off the ledge and that must not happen. No - it must be a lift and then departure, even if the lift is just enough to clear the wheels because just that little snag is enough to halt everything, permanently.
I think back to the weekend, the evening at the ranch as we waited for hogs to come...so at peace in that moonlit land...a single coyote howled. Perhaps the one we startled as we returned from our survey hike. The answer came immediately and with vigor. A pack nearby and then another further down the range and another yet, further still - all of them in a kind of chain so that we were surrounded by them and their ancient cries of - what was it? Solidarity? A comforting retort so that all knew that none were entirely alone? It was a stunning experience.
Yes, Christmas it is but merry it is not. Just a drive for the familial duty as he works the holidays away and perhaps then I can rest. Just a little time...a little peace...and maybe that is the sentiment I need to take away from this whole mad season - peace. Quiet. Silent night.
Friday, December 10, 2010
This might offer some new recipes or tips to others like me. Brigid, Ed - you guys can read and mock what with your years of experience in your apron pockets.
Here is the link...
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Amazing...anyone who is familiar with that iconic rendition of Arthurian mythos by Marion Zimmer Bradley will be more than familiar with this...relic. Its loss is profound even if only considered as an object of age like the Carmel cypress trees.
Vandals have destroyed one of the most celebrated Christian pilgrimage sites in Britain and chopped down a tree said to have sprouted from the staff of Joseph of Arimathea 2,000 years ago.
The Holy Thorn Tree of Glastonbury, Somerset, is visited by thousands every year to pay homage and leave tokens of worship. Those visiting today were moved to tears on finding the tree cut to a stump.Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1337159/Glastonburys-2000-year-old-Holy-Thorn-Tree-hacked-vandals.html#ixzz17e2KE3rY
England has lost. England has been lost, now, I fear. Sure, it might be some college stunt to express their disdain of history and paying for their own education. But a part of me leans eastward in that blame.
I am sorry for the loss and hope that the poor wreck can be coaxed into new life in the spring. Assuming anything is left of the place by then...
Tuesday, December 07, 2010
in your car of baby poop gold
You had to pass on the right -
racing the other moron - mid-flight
I saw you coming, my mirrors in use
That right lane ended, and you nearly in my caboose
The gentle sway of my wheels `cross that lane
Did nothing to get your attention, just disdain
I looked ahead, I had a plan
The pit maneuver, oh man!
I watched the hill rise, saw the silvery glint of the rail
If I accidentally kill you, how long am I in jail?
What they say of Volvo drivers is true:
Non-driving motherfuckers, all of you.
I know you cared naught for me on that road
Racing along, just a flash of baby poop gold.
This place is a haven of girly stuff. Yes, it's mostly frou-frou. But some of it is quite darling and not found elsewhere. And their wrapping? It is overdone - gorgeous. They have a calligrapher on staff to write your tender greeting. If you need to have a gift sent, this place will do it and very well, indeed. Some ideas? Do you know someone who does beadwork? This contains them nicely! A fine chef? Get the perfect apron. Kids? How about these blackboard placemats? They can draw while you dine in relative peace.
J. Peterman - who hasn't loved the mockery on Seinfeld? The clothes are actually quite nice. And, today only, there is a terrific sale on outerwear. Yes, including the original item that made him famous - that long ranch coat - the Duster. When I was a lass, there was a young man in a western bar who strode in wearing that thing. I dropped a note by his glass on my way out indicating my appreciation. Most females would love a frock coat - romantic, yes but practical in a nice cotton corduroy.
Perhaps these will help knock a few gifts off your list!
Monday, December 06, 2010
Sunday, December 05, 2010
Saturday, December 04, 2010
So every season I listen again to the music that stirred me so and kept me moving through what were dark waters.
I miss, sometimes, those simpler days when I had very little, indeed, around me. A cat, a tiny apartment, and spartan treasures held to year after year. That music rang when a knock came to the door and a tree stood there, because it was necessary to have one for the gift boxes to be placed under it. Two matching boxes in gold foil paper.
The candles flickered as lights were strung in a companionable silence. Not the first tree he'd bought, no. But I liked to think it meant near as much to him as it did me. I told myself similar things for years about him. "Open it - open one, at least..." he taunted. They were all I had under it, that lovely tree. I hesitated but then gave in, my childish desire overwhelming my adult sense of frugality. He sat and watched.
Crystal - a goblet of Irish extraction - to hold the wine of life. A set, he noted, his chin lifted to the other golden box.
I asked him to have the band play that song on one of the last times we knew each other. Unfamiliar with it, the clouds rolled across his eyes as my mouth twisted, knowing it was all over, all over, but holding to it tightly to wring every moment from it.
It played again, years later, loss upon loss so that I walked in a baffled stupor. The crystal fell from drunk hands and shattered on the floor, a kind of requiem and a final goodbye to all that.
Its mate remains in the cabinet yet, unfilled for years, now, a relic...when I was quite mad I thought of it that way - of burying it somewhere with the whole tale wrapped around it like a shroud. So that perhaps one day someone would know.
But I think, now, that sometimes we are given these stories to keep us alive. To make us stronger. So that we can, later, say, "And then I know I can bear anything."
Our own Troubles are coming. A part of me is glad that I need not worry about him, that perhaps he can offer - from his vantage - graces when needed.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
Update: Go here to see the details - center fire, law enforcement, 10 precision carbine (click on the little ? icon for the Accustock for even more info that you don't need). Has the bipod and a scope whose details I am unfamiliar with - told him to see if another Leatherwood will fit...those things rock.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
At any rate, if you are in the market for one of the best made packs at a fairly decent price (and are happy with it in black or ARPAT), get to LA Police Gear. I haven't seen them even on ebay at that price and new...
I'm a fan of their closeout section, also. Some really decent gear at nice holiday prices.
Friday, November 19, 2010
And there it was - a familiar face, disguised with exhaustion and paint, but the full mouth catching my eye. A group of three in that small photo, he noted the one in the middle who looked skeletal was dead, lost in a different skirmish in a different part of the world...
I scanned that section of the book the other day, reading details that he would never give, understanding a bit more behind his only confession of months back about an airport and no cover with nothing left to do but go forward with high aggression. A mowing down, it seems, of men intent on removing them from that terrain.
I can see him allowing those memories to flow back to mind, so many years gone, and remembering the gory glory days when his body and mind were immortal. How much harder it must be to deal with the petty bullshit his supervisor is dealing out, knowing that once he roared life and death in turn. How to hold ones hand against that kind of insult? I find it nigh unto impossible myself and I've nothing like that iron in my spine.
I return to that page, that photo, and feel a deep admiration that the damned petty fool still breathes. That lion is not defanged, after all. Older, yes. But the skills are just as sharp, the claws just as capable of rending soul from flesh. A line repeats in my head when I think of that bastard: "My God, but you are brave."
Thursday, November 18, 2010
"As luck would have it, there were five experienced pilots — including three captains — aboard the plane. The flight's captain, Richard de Crespigny, was being given his annual check ride — a test of his piloting skills — by another captain. That man was himself being evaluated by a third captain. There were also first and second officers, part of the normal three-pilot team.
One concentrated on flying the plane, while the others dealt with the computer alarms and made announcements to the giant planeload of passengers, some of whom said they were frantically pointing to flames streaming from the engine. Working flat out, it took 50 minutes for the pilots to prioritize and work through each of the messages — necessary steps to determine the status of the plane."
I wonder if/when they'll release those tapes - it'd be an intriguing set of comms.
Monday, November 15, 2010
There are times, dear friends, when that feral thing that survived a sharp Chicago youth aches to skirt those dark ways again and give a lesson to those who need one so very much. I sometimes cannot comprehend the thing that walks in heels and silk and faces me in the mirror, so different is she from that person I was. Clean, now, and kind. But he scratches at that veneer like the fool that he is, touching on that which I care for very much.
Perhaps his truths should be laid out? Perhaps his veneer of gentility needs to be...burnished. A liar, a cheater, a small-minded thing that thinks he can out-run his age. Run, yes, little man. Run all those miles. And if wishes have wings my own will caress you, darkest yet, that littlest twinge in a heart so small...too small, surely, for what you demand it give you.
Oh, how my fingers itch to see his own clutching.
Instead, I turn the music up quite loud and tell that shady thing to settle down. Time enough for all that. Options, you see...sane and reasonable options yet remain. Paperwork and forms, letters and the like can flutter around high offices. So be still, I tell her, be patient. It's that whole escalation of force thing. Two can play at that game.
S0 she turns around with an irritated smirk. And the lifted brow that illustrates her doubt. Always the pessimist...
Turn it up, she says. Time enough. Play on, Sass, and show the people how it's done.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
I say it depends on if it's YOUR ass in the pilot seat.
Semi-relatedly, a very good friend notes...word is the thing has hit a very large number of important desks all around...good for him!
It is also a reason for Trooper to go back to school and get his pilot's license.
There is NO WAY to ensure your safety in that tin can. None. A thousand tiny errors are possible. One small - very small - amount of a certain something can turn it into cinders. So all of this intrusive nonsense is for naught - it isn't to protect you. It is to ensure you cannot protect yourself.
We choose to not play along. Besides, there is a great deal to be said for seeing your country at 65 mph. It's lovely out there...
Sunday, November 07, 2010
I look at the supplies laid in and think, "Not enough..." - even having started early and working hard at it, not enough. Still, I spent Election Day doing what I ought: getting a lot of wheat, flour, and other foodstuffs. We put it all up in the tin cans the next night, the lids cranking shut with a firm and reassuring finality.
I don't believe it will take much to start a run on the stores. I won't be surprised to see a lot of things in short supply very soon. I won't pretend to tell you how to live your life but...it you do the calculations, you will see that those 3 or 4 pounds of flour in your pantry aren't going to cut it.
I averaged out some basic notes:
2 cups (about 13 1/8 oz.) of wheat turns = 3 cups of flour
Single loaf bread recipes = 3 or 4 cups of flour.
A 25 lb bag of wheat = about a dozen loaves of bread
So how long do you think your family would like to have bread with their beans? A few weeks? Maybe a few months if you are very conservative? Get your ass over to the Mormons' food store and get all you can at a very reasonable price. For now. They don't care who you are. They just ask that you get the stock for yourself - not for resale. If they have a canner for loan, take them up on it.
Don't you have one or two things you might like to store in a tin can away from prying eyes?
I think of you guys, you rare few, as good friends. I hope you'll take advantage of this tremendous opportunity to be ready. To not have to line up for a bowl of soup, to not look at a rat as an entree. Be ready.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Oh, I do dislike the non-costumed greedy bastages...I give them a ration of shit - and a ration of crappy little Dum Dums since they suit.
But I also retain a few extra large fancy chocolate bars for those who went above and beyond. I reward excellence. It surprises the recipients and it makes me happy, too.
Amusingly, the local PD pal visited a time, whipping open the door and surprising the kids. I cracked up. Too, he thought my own gaudy trappings were amazing. I don't know why more adults don't get rigged up. Fun, fun...of course, we ran out of candy before we ran out to ToTs. They bus them in here.
Speaking of rigged up...Jayne, here...makes me laugh everytime.
But then there is this - well done and just the thing to cap an evening.
I hope it has been just the spooky break you needed.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Fucking Around With Badge Whores: Lord knows I was a `ho for that damned motor unit uniform but it was HOT! My little jack booted thug...anyway, the skanks are out there and anyone who doesn't see it is a fool. If you choose to marry a guy with less sense and fewer morals this is merely the first mistake he'll make.
Not Able To Be Alone - A LOT: If you are the type that has to have attention, that lives all a-feared until Daddy gets home then this sort of life will leave you a wreck. If you can't kill that bug, investigate that suspicious noise, take that shower alone, then you will not make it. They are gone ALL THE TIME. If the salary is shit, as it is in DPS, then you can be assured that even those two off days during the week (when you are likely working and unable to enjoy with him)and the one weekend a month he has off will be spent - in part - on another job. You'd better enjoy your own company, too, because even though it's a "family", it has that same set of dysfunctional bullshit.
Dysfunctional Bullshit: You know how life is during the holidays when family gets together and crazy Aunt Barbara loses her shit or Uncle Joe smokes in the bathroom or the dog poops on the sofa to make its own point about company? Same, same...I'll be honest right here: I do not associate with any of the "wives" in his area. Used to...but they are all a couple decades younger than we are, still in their "acquire at any cost" mindset of the youth today. Be that babies (lovely little competition with - what? - 3 now changing diapers?), homes, furniture or cars. Regardless, none of them are comfy with an evening at home with the dogs and not drinking. Or just getting a cheap burger and talking hours over one iced tea after another. Hell, we LOVE beer - but it isn't required at every get together and assuredly not when one is driving - talk about a career ender. AND being a hypocrite. So, no. I've no time for that nonsense. Get back to me in about 10 years, assuming your marriage has survived.
Not Interested in Guns, Shooting, Hunting, Getting Out in Da Woods: Holy crap. How many times have I met a spouse who simply doesn't care about guns or doesn't know how to enjoy a night in the woods with a shovel for a latrine. I guess much the same can be said for military spouses. If you don't know the lingo, don't know the tools of the job, don't want to decompress well away from the people that they deal with every hour of every day...well, you might be surprised if your mate doesn't spend much time at home. They may enjoy an evening on the sofa, watching a goofy chick flick with you, quietly texting a pal about the latest SWAT callout. But you will eventually find yourself left out of, or lost in, a lot of conversations...
Listening More Than Talking: They have to deal with the most moronic and skank nasty people you can imagine all day while consistently watching to ensure they don't intend to KILL them. Now, mine has some break from that compared to the duty in Atlanta. Out here it isn't nearly as nasty. But most do work in the city and that is some bad duty. When they get home, they will - if they handle it well - want to just have some quiet time and talk through the day, relate the high or low points, get a laugh out of it and then proceed into their off-duty persona and life. It is not the time to bring up the broken shower fixture, the dirty diapers, the garbage that needs to go out or how you need a new dress. In short, it is not about you. If you cannot STFU for 30 minutes at a stretch then please subject yourself to a different kind of person.
Accept That You Will Not Always Be Happy: Well, this is a tough one. People are told so often that they deserve to be happy, it's not right that someone harshes their divine mellow because they are SPECIAL. If answered truthfully, many of the guys (and gals, yes) will admit that they love their work possibly more than they love their homelife. You may just come in second to the job. I'll be the first to admit that there are many times that I get angry because I cannot plan a simple holiday - one day a year - and KNOW that he'll be off. I can't even plan for his long weekend because the schedule is issued about a week before the start of the month and several constraints (like maternity leave and training) can impact it with little notice. I get angry, yes. I am a planner. I need to know, in advance, where we will be so I can tell others of the plans. This means that I am often disappointed. Vacations? Are you nuts? My coworkers can look at a July and know they will be off for a particular set of days. We have to wait until the schedule comes out, look for the 4-day weekend, and hope like hell the budget permits something. It hasn't in a few years. So you settle for those cheap burgers and long chats with good friends. Hell, you might even live large and have a beer at home since you won't be on-call. Yes, you will be angry. You will often be disappointed. Your spouse won't be able to do a goddamned thing about it. You will have to work doubly hard to not blame them.
Homelife? What homelife?: All that segues nicely into the basic fact that some forces are not on a set schedule. I have to look at a damned spreadsheet everyday to know when to make dinner. His schedule moves from pre-dawn duty to post-dinner duty throughout the month. If he has an FTO, I might not see him at all unless we have the trainee in for dinner. And not all of them are the kind you want to entertain. We've been pretty fortunate in that regard so I've set a table for 3 fairly often. When he is home he sleeps. If he isn't sleeping or getting ready to go on, he is trying to fit in a workout so he can stay in decent shape to fight off the bad guys. Fitting in any home maintenance or chores or shopping trips is difficult. You will be on-call for all that sort of thing 90% of the time. They mean well, I assure you. They want to get that light fixture mounted for you. But it isn't a priority. Which means that if it is something you really need to have done you'll have to make that clear to them, or do it yourself - or hire someone else to do it. That last can also be problematic...
Secured Access: Not just anyone is let into the sanctum sanctorum. Even if you have the funds for a maid service, good luck getting that approved...strangers are simply not a good idea. We all want to think that you can trust most people but the truth is that each Trooper has a bounty on their badge. Access to their home, their schedule, their whereabouts and peccadillos is verboten. You may want to have that Book Club meeting at your home but unless you are all "family" you may receive the Eyebrow Of Doubt. Add in that you will likely have a weapon in every room when at home and you will find that people who are not "squirrel friendly" will have something to say about it. And they may say it to someone who won't be against trying to get at the supply line.
Kids? You're kidding, right?: Get a big dog first. Try that out for about a year. Please.
Even if I could have children I would still have to give it deep thought. Admittedly, I am a "have kids, stay home and raise them, please" type. I don't care which one of you does - I simply detest the packing up of ones precious minds and handing them over to people who make minimum wage. So assuming you have to work...are you ready to do everything? Caring for the house, the cars, the pets, AND the kids? After a full day at work? Because you will. Oh, they'll try to help. But go ahead and look at that Homelife topic. Those that do make it work are absolute gods. And likely exhausted. Make them a lasagna, won't you? I cannot even imagine...anyway, it'll all be on you so suck it up, do the job and don't complain or don't have kids. Yeah, I'm a bitch like that. Sorry.
Well, there you have it - my gentle advice for anyone thinking about entering into the society. And all this assumes that your beloved is a REALLY DECENT sort and not one of those off-kilter power mongers who can't wait to tell YOU what to do, too. The job can attract a lot of bad people. We see them in the news all the time. The odds of finding the sincere and decent members are moderate.
And if they are already married? Please - don't feed into that. Send them home to deal with it - either with honest appraisals of themselves or divorce papers. Because there is a spouse hoping they will get home safe, not even thinking that they might be looking for a reason to not go home just yet.
Jesu - I almost forgot. LEOs need to be just as cautious in their choice of mate. Good LORD, how many times have I seen them pick the worst possible option - "she doesn't like guns or talking about my job and that's a relief!" - uh, yeah. I think the real relief is that she's young, pretty, and thinks you are all-powerful. That will wear off for both of you in short order.
Be wise. Know that a marriage is often just like a job - it requires work, respect for each other, kindness and politeness when you really want to throw a stapler at their head, as well as an ability to accept disappointment. Sometimes you won't even like each other. And sometimes even the love you had at the start has to be sanded down and refinished, having tarnished over the years. Sometimes you will have to be the cheerleader, bringing low spirits up when you know that there is a reason for low spirits and you'd just as soon wallow in them, too. And if you happen to have that cheerleader outfit already? Hey, win-win, my friend...now, I wonder where he put those motor boots?....
Friday, October 22, 2010
I drove back from the grocery in the dusk, slowly passing the cattle moving slowly to the fenceline to get the grass that is surely greener just on that other side. Yes, in a year that view will be gone, replaced by another building that no one really needs but which this small town will accept. Perhaps our property value will rise enough to let us leave...still...there are benefits to this small stop on the main road.
There you can see the view that greets me on the commute to the office, the fabulous tollway striking a clean line through the once-pastureland.
When we were away all we could talk about was how we missed the wide skies of home. And this admittedly horrid cell shot while moving can hardly convey its beauty. I am fortunate, I know, to have this before me. I miss not at all those 8 lanes of 75 South.
It was a difficult day, though, as the puppies were full of themselves and troublesome. Rain came briefly at dawn, settling me back into dreams of underwater sheep, grazing and walking around as though they'd always been amphibious. Some were bare of fleece, glistening like sharkskin, and others retained their wool and it moved like mermaid hair in the currents.
Suffice to say, I woke late and confused, with no time to do more than shove a breakfast sandwich at Trooper and settle in to the day.
Kota was the one most unhappy with the situation. No matter how much time outside I gave her, this was the result.
The window shows the evidence of her frustrations. But it is that face that gets me. Intense in moments. Intent clear. And sometimes a bit too feral to the eye though not in act. Most amusing is the cock of the white brow when she is puzzled. So perfect in execution that you can hardly keep from smiling.
She is smart...too damned smart in some ways. But as much as Ranger is delicate and cautious - so is she heavy-pawed and coarse. Even her gait is different, all stiff-legged and stomping compared to his prancing trot.
It has taken a lot of time and patience to get her in hand and it will take more, still, to keep it that way. She does not like strangers in the house so we've work to do on that front. Still a lot of wolf in her, the man said. And I have to agree. Yes, that piece of her remains and likely always will. But it also gives her that need of me, her pack, and her now-gentler pawing at me for attention. She dislikes an unexpected touch, flinching with surprised nerves, but craves it when she is able to control it, see it coming. A darling girl - but she does have a flaw.
She ate two sticks in the course of a week when I'd neglected to comprehend her size and reach. I have a stick set out nearly every day for cooking so it was something I never considered. Ranger doesn't counter surf, after all. I wasn't prepared for her to assault it.
I do wonder, sometimes, if it is simply a need for more fat in her diet. Perhaps she needs the content for her wolf side and cannot help but desire it. I gave her a few pieces today after she kindly waited for the photo. You can almost see that madness gleaming in her eye, though, can't you?
Well, there is all that...and then there is this - morale patches received in a crap shoot order. Mystery patches, you see, you have to take your chances to get the one you want. I, of course, gamed the system and got them all in order to get the one I wanted. This leaves me with two that I don't really need. And yet...they aren't exactly the kind of thing that everyone enjoys...
If you happen to know someone that can use them, email me and one or both can come your way for that - er - deserving person. Perhaps it is just the stocking stuffer you were hoping to find.
And that nearly gets us up to date. Now, I hear that old Ford pulling up so...good night...
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Early bird (7:30-8:30a CT Friday) gets 20% off everything in the store. Other hours offer deep discounts and their clearance stuff is not to be missed, either.
We're trying to attend...
(This sale not avail at the Rossville, GA site!)
Monday, October 18, 2010
The author of the quote later noted this.
I may use Facebook but it isn't an accurate rendering. And the friends are few enough to not reveal more than I'd like. But even this commentary, posting on any site, is a revelation to any and all who care to look deeper.
Which reminds me of this find (Bell System Technical Journal, 1922-1983) that may one day be handy for a more...antiquated communication option.
Friday, October 15, 2010
I was thinkinf this evening, as he makes his rounds again but wound round with thick leather instead, of how the seasons here are so forgiving.
October always had leaves, it's true, even in the city. I loved to crunch the dried ones, wet leaves being not much fun at all. And if there was a sycamore, you could be assured of shin-high piles to kick through. But October also always had a sharpness to it in that cold place. Halloween was the best day of the year but it was tiresome to wear a heavy coat over your carefully crafted disguise.
At least in this tender place one can get away with a light jacket that you can make a parent carry so that your costume can be appreciated fully. Still...that princess will shiver as her bucket fills and that superhero will think twice about the comfort a skin tight shirt lends.
Cold it was in my memory of those days...hands chilled on the swinging handle of the jackolantern pail, watching your breath fly away on the wind. I do not have many memories of the summers there at all. Only the tightly bundeled woolened days of winter remain...
I was built for that cold. I love feeling that chill wind, having it swirl off the beloved as they sweep through the door. This movie gives me a dose that cuts my jonesin'...
I've not heard the snow under my boots nor struggled for air in the thin aether in a few years now. I miss it fiercely sometimes.
I know, I know - it's no place to hold out against an onslaught. But my feet have been coddled and warm for so long...it would be good to have them complain with that dull ache of a chilled earth. Snow, this season. Somehow, I must get back to it just for a little while...
Thursday, October 14, 2010
On the premise, then my answer is: "You take your time, in a hurry, and blow the little monster away right there where he stands, without a second thought."
It isn't up for debate, my life and my right to continue breathing in it.
Look here for more reason to stop considering these creatures to be "children". They have more in common with rabid animals than human...
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
One can see the hesitant pride in the faces of the workers, so happy to have a success for their efforts but knowing that a great deal more work lies ahead and a too-large pebble could halt it all.
But the wheel keeps spinning - the wheel sending the cable down, down to a stygian darkness and bringing them up to a rebirth of sorts in light, pure sweet light. It cannot help but remind me of a spinning wheel, weaving that cable into fate, a thin strand of hope moving into and out of a kind of purgatory.
Fate, bringing them to their lives from a stasis with a clanging like a farrier, forging their future.
What man can do...it is humbling.
Monday, October 11, 2010
We woke Saturday morning, taking our time and assuming we would leave Sunday for a funeral on Monday. He placed a call from the bed to his mother and received word that no, not Monday - Sunday. Sunday...we were already 4 hours behind.
My irritation ebbed and flowed as everything was readjusted. My sister was an absolute lifesaver, stepping in to fetch my father from 2 hrs away, saving us the loss of another 4 hours. Trooper packed his suit, standing up and taking a moment to realize his loss all over again.
I threw together some items in a cooler, sandwiches and snacks to get us through the drive with as few stops as possible. The dogs were all in a stir, uncertain why there was so much hastening about. The truck was loaded and we were underway, taking the southerly route across the country to those enclosed rolling hills of his home.
I required a coffee stop in Baton Rouge, stepping in to the Starbucks (carrying, yes). I did not know that Trooper was listening to the football game on the radio. Huh...LSU just up the street...game in 4th qtr, just minutes left...I strolled out the door to see him making motions to move it move move it. We were just a few miles down the road and safe when they won that game. It seemed our luck was still good.
We approached the easterly border of Alabama, moving nearer to our goal and had made amazing time...and we had no sooner said as much, perhaps a mile from our exit, when everything came to a halt. A wreck - overturned vehicles, injuries and whatnot. And us - just a dozen feet beyond the last exit to avoid it all. We settled in for the long wait, people watching...
It was then we saw movement to the left - a couple, exiting a car that was in the fast lane. He ran to a truck ahead of us, a small dog in his arms. Conversations took place and the dog was thrust into the cab of the truck. He ran back to the car, shouting to his female companion. "Keep an eye on that truck! They got Baby in there!" Her head swiveled to and fro - "but what about the car?!" "It's DONE. Leave it!" he announced, opening the trunk and grabbing a 12-pack and some other things from it, trailing the debris of a fool behind him. He tossed it into the back of the truck and they both climbed in.
Trooper looked at me and dialed his cell phone. Long story short, the local PD was unable to find the vehicle - yes, abandoned and unmoving in the fast lane of a 1 mile backup parking lot. We shrugged and drove on, Baby, her caretakers and the 12-pack a car ahead of us.
We arrived at our friends' home not long after, getting a reasonable night's sleep and rising in time to have some breakfast at the beloved QT on the way to the church. I dreaded the march up the aisle to the casket. She was not there. Just that rouged husk that somehow once contained her amazing spirit. I performed my duty, the remaining ettiquette arcane and unknown to me. I took a seat in the front of the church, preferring its view of trees to anything behind me. Trooper did his duty, escorting the older women, helping others...
Soon enough it was all said, all done, and we moved on to the cemetery where his final duty to her was performed. It was a gentle matter, that final farewell. Everyone looked to their feet - as much to ensure they were away from fireants as in deference to the grieving. We returned to her home, built by hand ages ago and added on in haphazard fashion so that room connected to room and the warren could be run from one gathered group to another.
Eventually, the food was put away, and the looky lou's were all gone. I watched the sun setting too early in the hilly landscape, and said my own goodbye - farewell to the cedar tree that we trimmed last I was here...farewell to the potted amaryllis, just now showing its lime green shoot...farewell to that hill once all their own and all this valley once theirs...dismantled piece by piece over the years.
We moved on to mundane life, changing into more comfortable attire. Off with the mourning and on with the living...so it has always been. We are none of us so important that the world stops long at our leaving it.
It was the next night, I suppose, that the proper wake was held. A small one, true, but we did what we could. Trooper did even more...seems that the corner was the safest place - back to a wall as well as having something to lean on. His best friend was still able to torment him.
We left a few days later, taking that southerly route again. Louisiana came, and the CD played the Cajun tunes. Good food had, we moved on. But we didn't think about the good time we were making...so good that we hit Houston at 5p. (I did tell him to take the toll road...too far around he said...hmph.)
Home again, finally, the dogs were spinning and leaping with joy. We left the unloading for later, letting them get their fill of us. And us of them, yes.
So much catching up to be done at work...it is almost never worth the leaving but this time...I think this road trip was just what we needed. Thanks, Grandma...we miss you so!
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
She noted on her feed something akin to, "...was a silenced sniper rifle, didnt ask much about it, weighs 38 pounds Hot 500 yard range."
He also was told later that this fellow was present. Not that Trooper would have known. Familiar face, he said of a few people, but I just figured I'd stopped them before. That's my man...no one is famous to him.
He did mention that someone related to this movie was rather...intense. Seems she was enthralled with giving the targets the denigrating term for women - in her mind a specific woman, it would seem, that had done her wrong. She really like Trooper.
At any rate, it was a long day but the group was kind and gave the team a real gift - they got to shoot the hell out of a Nazi flag from the movie Inglourious Basterds. The team lined up, "Contact Front!" was called out and they all moved forward, letting loose. Impressive even to him, he said.
A lot of fun but it was bookended with a call that his grandma has had a massive stroke. It's off to the Apalachian homeland soon as she isn't expected to hold on very long, darling thing. What a blessing that he just saw her a few weeks ago, visited long hours...not much else to say, is there? Pleasures and sadness...life itself, distilled.
But it was one hell of a time.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
No more children.
Give those women - hell, sorry - any girl over 10 - the choice to stop this bullshit instantly. You could call it an aphrodisiac and those disgusting fools would be all for it, handing you their dandled child with glee. Plug it in and give this whole damn thing a generation to unwind.
No progeny, no volunteers for murder, no children to become brides themselves.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Honey, that doubled-salary and choice of duty in CCPD is looking better every fucking day.
Hmmm...I guess integrity isn't really what DPS is looking for.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
You really think he's going to just waltz right in a few weeks prior and get his usual premier lovin'? I have spent nearly a week getting the details from this utterly useless fool, and being given the run around by the guy about his registration. I finally just threw my hands in the air and logged in as him - yes, I'll be there to host my little speech. No, I haven't a clue if we are "global partners" of your database hegemony. Click this, that, update bio, blah blah. Done. I don't want to hear a damned complaint when his inbox starts filling up with spam he doesn't need.
Add to this someone who operates from PAPER. PAPER! We have the technology...we can build it...it's called an Outlook Contact. For the love of hamsters and jam, people! She was scratching out old codes and handwriting new ones down in her little binder. Her binder...
Okay, okay - so, there's been that. But the other lying whore is the vet who never even intimated that the worming agent would turn my dog's ass into a damned shit fountain with randomly timed shows. WTF?! How is that stuff even legal?! Trooper joked that we could use her as a weapon, pointing her ass to the front and squeezing her belly. Oh, I can't tell you how FOUL it has been. I now know why people with new babies sometimes just go sit in the car, alone. Every hour, all night long I rose to let her out to relieve her poor soul. After the 3a trip I decided Fuck It and let her stay out of her kennel. Really bad idea come about 4a.
There is a last one - though this bitch is the male variety...a good man passed away the other day...his power out, he thought to take a nap in his car - his giant slurpee at hand. He didn't think, I guess, to open the garage. Perhaps he didn't intend to fall asleep at all but he works 14 hour days and I suppose he was just so very tired. Within 24 hours of his death his only relative came and cleaned out his house of everything - his beloved cats we are unsure of - but has yet to call the funeral home to claim the body. Trooper used to play a game with him - sneak up on the little stop and shop gas station he worked at...he'd coast in blacked out, waiting for the guy to notice. He always won, too.
So there was a kind of 21 gun salute for the man - 21 stops that night and all of them made into fun experiences. One was an attractive female pathologist - he mulled that over and they looked at each other, "Dead People" they said. Dark humor took over as he prep'd the warning, jokes to and fro and her sharp intellect keeping up with ease. Another was a car full of older women, all dressed up and full makeup - seems there was to be a meeting of the minds with other good friends in town. But there was one lone 15 year old boy stuck in the back with the matrons. "How did you get stuck with all these women?" The boy smiled and shrugged. "You want to come with me for the night?" He declined the offer. "All right, then. You know your numbers, right? Well, I am putting YOU in charge of these women tonight. You keep them at the speed limit - 65. Not 65 in a 55." By this time the womenfolk were all laughing hysterically, makeup ruined. The young man was grinning and as he left them with their warning, they were still parked there cackling and crying.
We'll do what we can to get the man a decent funeral this weekend if his brother does nothing. The local banks can usually be relied upon to donate to good causes and we can cremate him if nothing else. I told Trooper that his ashes should be scattered as he drives down that highway that he watched every day. A kind of Trooper For A Day...
So it's been a pretty shitty weekend all around and a crappy day thus far. About the only cure I have is some hard cider and a hard shower. It's a crazy fucked up life in these parts, sometimes. There's nothing for it but to find what joy you can, brief as it might be.
What the hell else can you do?
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
I've had a rough week and am in no mood for the foolishness in the world.
The Ghosty has it right.
"If burning a book endangers the troops, the troops should not be there in the first place. We should just nuke the site from orbit."
(It's the only way to be sure.)
It's a BOOK. People burn all manner of things to make their point. People play in feces to make a point. Crosses in urine, bibles in shit, burning books, and bras...
It doesn't matter. What does matter is how those neanderthals cannot live with any kind of upset or insult. But we are all supposed to look aside as they throw ROCKS at WOMEN to KILL them. Or fuck little boys. Or throw acid on little girls. Or stab pregnant women in the belly.
No, no - never mind all that because that's their culture, you ignorant rednecks. But don't you dare set fire to a piece of illiterate mental masturbation.
Damn - I kind of feel better already. Huh...
Now, I know there are many who are doing this whole "turn the other cheek" or "pray for them" thing - good for ya. Glad you can. Hope that works out for ya. Meanwhile, they cackle at your manners. They consider just how easy it will be to stop your whole fucking world - a single school bus - with a primetime bomb threat.
Believe what you like, be offended by whatever you choose. Time is flying by and your deadline for all that looms. Maybe they'll even let you choose - food or your children into slavery. Starve together or eat alone. But I think they've no such mercy in them. No mercy at all.
Show them any and you will regret it.
Meanwhile, watch this to understand the truth of that book. And their Janus faced lies.
Thursday, September 09, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
It began with this post which indicated he hadn't heard of Glenn Beck until recently - a thing which baffles me but I know the man is good and sincere so it must be true. He writes, "...We sometimes forget how great this nation is, today..." Bullshit! It most assuredly is NOT great - not in any sense of the word. Perhaps in great danger, yes. Can he seriously be so far out of touch with the matters of today that he cannot see the truth? I do not consider myself to be "fringe". Rather, I am quite driven by fact and truth - what IS. Not what seems to be.
Billy hits this one straight and true re: the targeting of Glenn Beck, "...Of course, it wouldn't do to simply offer to have him killed, which would be most un-civilized, and nevermind about all that "remove from the public eye forever" jazz: get your mind out of those concrete overshoes. No. It would suffice to have the witch burned metaphorically..."
You can see in that single action that what you are and what you prize are nothing to these people. Nothing. And do not think for a moment that Friedlander wouldn't have Glenn's ass up against a wall if he thought he could get someone else to pull the trigger for him. One only hopes that in this act Friedlander has forever blown his cover and he is now known far and wide for what he truly is.
Last night I was thinking on much - so many concerns these days and how to manage them all. I took refuge in this piece - a bit of stark beauty.
Lovely...it contrasted completely with the images I'd looked at earlier. Images that, even in their day, were considered too much to air. So much like the images of 9/11, no? Too much for the little people to deal with, we'll just shunt it off into an archive. Or maybe just toss a mosque up - that'll distract `em from all the nasty war dead.
A great deal of the history that you and I know is being erased from human memory. It will be as though it never happened. It is necessary in order for it all to take place once again without the initial feints being detectable, before that rotting scent is identified. Would that all children 13-18 were made to watch that - made to see the truth of what happens when ones desire to perfect a world is wrought against the will of those who do not make the cut. I would not be surprised to find several children in that grouping that are unaware that the event even took place.
Precursors...indicators...links within links...the sort of thing in this - admittedly lengthy - video is how I put things together. For no end, really. It is more of a scrap book of truths laid bare so that I can nod and say, "Yes, yes - I see..."
At approximately 1:05 you can see the "revolving door" from corporation to governmental leadership role and back again. You think you can vote your way out of this wreckage. In that slender space of 15 minutes you are able to see why it ain't necessarily so. Would you have thought that people could move through a decade, looking ahead that far and moving their pieces on the chessboard to manage that future, maintain those contacts through one administration and another? It takes a special kind of liar to manage it. You have to be utterly without scruple. Because you have to either not care in the least or lie to yourself every day that you are doing the right thing.
And in the meanwhile the world keeps turning and we just keep on hoping that we have enough to eat and the internet stays up. Like that "thin blue line" there is another line - between those who are seriously considering what we face as a nation and those who figure they can tough it out and just reboot it in 2012. As if that will change a thing. As if there aren't another set who've moved their pawns around for a decade, waiting for their turn.
None of it so important...none of it - not until it becomes your skin in the game, your pretty, precious living and breathing self against that wall. Just that by the time you find yourself there your options are winnowed down to one: dying well.
Good luck with that.
Monday, August 30, 2010
I think tomorrow they'll have this in mind - wonder how the Electra Glide will run through it (real fun starts at 4:00m).
And then...egads, I dread how much I'll have to hear about it later...the KISS concert, front and center. No, I am not a fan. I am quite ambivalent.
Most of my time is spent going outside with the dogs to permit them space for this activity. Ranger has finally figured out which end is which when is comes to his...romantic affections. I suspect he hasn't been a complete success (not that it matters since he is "fixed") but it is amusing to see him being so "manly".
As you can see, they play their wolfy dominance games and it looks (and sounds) ferocious but it very rarely gets out of hand - usually when Kota has had enough and snaps back at him with sincere warning.
She remains my constant companion and is learning that she cannot paw at me with full strength (enough to slice a tiny bit off my lip recently - which found me launching full on her, hands in ruff and teeth on neck to make clear who is the queen bitch in this pack). We mash her giant paw in our hand with firmness - enough to get the point across. It has worked wonders.
Nicknamed the Giant Leaper, she can easily - flat footed - jump nearly 5 foot high with hardly any effort. It is stunning, really, to see her be suddenly at eye height without warning. And it is a reminder of what she is under that pretty Husky coat. (BTW, this pic is how I think of her when my back is turned...)
And so we three wait for Trooper's return, caring for things neglected rather than being restless. The time will pass soon enough. Absence making the heart grow fonder and all that..
Thursday, August 26, 2010
I happen to be fond of the Bacon! shirt, myself...
Ah, yes, the heady early days of the internet...my favs on the list? Impossible to pick but...
33. Not allowed to chew gum at formation, unless I brought enough for everybody.
34. (Next day) Not allowed to chew gum at formation even if I *did* bring enough for everybody.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
More disturbing is this snippet:
"...Representatives from the Gallup Organization governance index pioneer, Dr. Robert Rotberg, joined the discussion by phone on the second day. Following these conversations with rating and indexing specialists, the scholars worked to finalize the index, including its methodology and measurable indicators [ie, Shariah Index 4.0]. ...After the formal meetings concluded, Cordoba staff worked one-on-one with a number of the scholars, soliciting additional information requested by the ratings experts prior to their formal work on the Index as well about the Indexing methodology and the book, with significant work with Gallup and Dr. Rotberg"
Interestingly, it appears that the same good doctor worked on a little symposium for this . And guess who else is involved in same? Sara Sewall who just happened to be, "...one of candidate Barack Obama's foreign policy advisers and subsequently worked for the Obama transition, overseeing program review in the national security area, including the Department of State, DoD, DHS, foreign assistance, and Intelligence Community agencies; founder and Faculty Director of the Mass Atrocity Response Operations (MARO) Project, a collaborative effort between the Carr Center for Human Rights Policy, and the U.S. Army Peacekeeping and Stability Operations Institute..."
An interesting dive into that PKSOI site revealed this paper, drafted by these guys about Transitional Law Enforcement. Now, for it being couched in terms of international relations and support of Mass Atrocity Response, it sure does seem to reference the use of U.S. Military (or Federal forces) to enforce U.S. civilian law (see pgs 9 and 14+) an awful lot. If I were to draft a paper on how to halt a rebellion in the United States, I would probably try to disguise it a bit, too. (Yes, of course Noetic managed to get a huge crumb of the future Carbon Capture/Credit con. Why do you ask?)
Motivations...intentions...peel away the covers and look deeper. Strand after strand in the web that covers this madness. You will see that the emperor has no clothes. There is nothing to stand economies in the world upon. They must come up with something and thus far the need for oil holds firm. But the commodity is held in the hands of mad fools so they will bargain with them.
"Whatever you like, Sahib - build as you wish. While they look over there, we'll put these outlets in over here, and ensure that this venture moves along. After all, we've nearly paid off all those union pensions. Well, the taxpayers have. It was a nice slush fund while it lasted, no?" And that - just that smallest little piece - doesn't even begin to touch the thing. Connections - they have always intrigued me. And they are now so safe that they feel no need to hide them.
Expect horrible things if we try too hard to be free. They are making plans, you see. Have been for a very long time. Ignore the magicians waggling hand and look to the one he has tucked away as it holds the truth. Misdirection is a sign.
Many of us are keeping a vigil on the Republic. We may not be able to do more than that. We may only find the smallest of chances to do so - to give that cover to the others in the field.
Thus, this. Note the hoo-ah when things get a bit too tight in the chest and that arm just a bit too heavy, bless him.
Leave it to the Marines to do it so smartly, so quietly, with so much dignity.