Road Trip Souvenirs

TINY DOGS. In biggest news, after a three-week road trip, I brought back a tiny Dachshund puppy for a souvenir. Of course, she is more than just a souvenir. She is now a distinguished, important member of our family and household. Anyway, we adopted her from the same breeder as Otto… and four of my mom’s Dachshunds. Say no to puppy mills! She has disapproving eyebrows and a tiny bark.

Speaking of road trip, I packed up the PT Cruiser and headed to Pensacola to visit my friend, Devin. I stayed there a week, then headed to my parents’ place near Asheville, North Carolina. Devin’s condo is half way through to their house, which is pretty convenient. We plan to come back right before Christmas, but this time we are renting a condo down the street from my family. You know what? There was the cabin next door to them for sale and they didn’t let us know. Could have had a sweet mountain cabin. My cousin Marjorie also just moved to Asheville, so it was great to see her. She is pursuing her masters in Social Work.

MSCP. As for my masters, I am signed up for four more classes starting next Tuesday. The first class I took for summer was only a month long… which left me with a sweet two-month break. Also got most of May off. I know it’s starting to be time for me to go back to school when I consider putting on a bra and washing my hair an accomplishment for the day. Anyway, learning about Statistics, Ethics, Counseling Theories, and some other class I forgot. Then, next semester I start my thesis! I AM AN ADULT.

SOCIALLY WILLING.

My Rotary Club has named me the social media manager. And by named me, I mean “Hey, you guys need to be on social media to attract new members. I got you a Twitter and Instagram. Oh, and your website looks 2001.” So, follow us. Better yet, join your local Rotary Community Service Club. Meet people, share experiences, yada yada. I’ve never been a huge fan of social media. I have an Instagram (I just got it two years ago), and I deleted Facebook in 2012. I think we have a huge problem with oversharing every detail… as I sit and type on my 15-years strong (well, hasn’t had significant gains) blog. It’s a way to connect, I get it, and it’s fun. But wow, it is time consuming! Oh, and here is a photo of me speaking to three Rotary clubs about the benefits of sending 10th graders to RYLA camp in the summer. I went a million years ago. It’s a confidence booster. Just look at those briefing hands.

MEDALING KIDS.

Lastly, the Air Force ball is next month. I’m no longer active duty, but Larry is. As an officer, he feels it’s his duty to attend these sorts of things to network, and I totally agree. So, I found a dress… it was the last one and in my size. It fits perfectly, and my medals will look awesome on them. No bling needed; it’s built-in with years of service. & for fuck’s sake, ladies: no sateen, rhinestone-embellished prom dresses. Tacky as hay-ell. I’m ready to move away from the South. & where are the people my age? So odd. It’s like a black hole around here.

Went to Starbuck’s yesterday. Tried to contain the excitement that in a month I will have sugar-free PSL in my life again.

Take a Napa & Go to Napa.

PEN&INK. You know, writing is always in the back of my mind. Updating. How could it not be? I’ve been doing it seventeen years. Most of my life. I like to write to explain things. I like to write to understand things. I like to write to have a chronicle of life. “What did I do in 2004? What did I feel? What did I learn?” and I can pull up a digital index of everything. Things I’ve forgotten. Things I maybe wanted to forget, and had… but my digital brain doesn’t forget.

So I am updating when I can, when I want to. So many good things are happening all at once; or maybe my outlook has changed on how I approach everything that happens. I think it’s the latter. I guess most people can recreate the years with a Facebook page, or a Twitter feed. That’s fine, but very limited… you physically can’t type more than 140 characters at a time on Twitter: fragmented thoughts. And who has ultimate control over a Facebook or Twitter? I am proud to own my writings in my own online space and archives.

Pfft, let’s be real. Haven’t updated lately because of Witcher 3 & a replay of Dragon Age: Inquisition. It happens.


Geralt, you magnificent bastard.

MSCP & SANFRAN. Get this: I’m six months into my Masters of Science in Counseling Psychology. When did that happen? I also went to San Francisco last month to attend the Couples Conference, a professional conference for those practicing counseling or psychology. It was also a thinly-veiled excuse to get over to the West Coast and tour Napa Valley. Which we did. Highlights of the trip include a really lovely wine-tasting and tour at ZD Wines, and lunch at Auberge du Soleil. We stayed at the historic Ledson Hotel while in Napa, right in the heart of downtown Sonoma. We spent a few days in San Francisco while I attended the conference, and also hoofed it around the city. FitBit says 20,000+ steps and 90+ floors climbed & I believe it. Good thing I wore a fancy jacket to dinner at Gary Danko so you couldn’t see my armpit sweat stains after a 45-minute hike.

The counseling conference was pretty stellar. Many different workshops and speakers were offered… and because it was San Francisco, it ranged from “Crystals & Auras” to actual Neuroscience. Most of the attendees were older and looked like this. That’s from Meet the Fockers for the uninitiated. They were even selling those kinds of clothes there. I thought I was smart and looked smart in my Hillary-esque pant suit, but I kinda stuck out. Anyway, Esther Perel regulated on modern relationships and not expecting your partner to fulfill every role in your life. Preach. Anyway, it was enlightening to see a West Coast Party. Bet the East Coast Party would include information on Freud, prescribing Dyziplen, and how to embrace being miserable. I jest. I think.

When this masters brouhaha is all said and done, I’m probably going to round robin right into the VA or on-base mental health clinics. B-52 Radar Navigator… instant rapport. I know how the military works, I know what it can put families through, and I know how to sift the story from the chaff. I had a hard time relating to the mental health clinic I went to before my first deployment: The clinician looked no older than 24. What did she know about deployments, or what I was experiencing? She went to college, got her masters, and here she is. What experiences has she had? I was so angry and frustrated that she couldn’t possibly understand. Now I know how to help. Frame that Honorable Discharge on the wall and we good.

ROTARY. I’ve joined my local Rotary Club; I think I’m the youngest member. No shame. It’s a small club, rather than the large Shreveport one. I figure I can make more of a difference and develop closer friends in a smaller club for the time I have left here… about two years (until I finish my degree and can leave this area). Anyway, I noticed the web site needs an update (very circa 2002), and there were no social outlets besides a Facebook that isn’t updated regularly. So, naturally, I took over the social media job. I made a Twitter and Instagram, and the Facebook is connected in to receive updates. Take that, Millenials… I do know how to use Twitter! But I still don’t see the point besides news agencies to distribute news fast. Oh well. We are in the game now.

I am still disappointing my piano teacher, but it’s always great fun going to lessons. Still visiting my elderly friends each Saturday, too. I had an idea to maybe do something like “painting with a twist,” but with a patriotic eagle or something. I asked one of the residents if they would enjoy a painting workshop and she said no. Welp, there’s that. Lastly, I baked “Lavender Honey Cupcakes with Lemon Buttercream Icing” from this hippie dippy book Larry bought. I almost followed the recipe but I got bored and improvised. My birthday is tomorrow and I’m gonna be 31. Eating this cupcake.

Stay Strong.

PRIDE. My thoughts are with those affected by the act of terror in Orlando at the Pulse club. I was a proud member and supporter of the LGBT community during my years in Orlando and these people were my family; I remember this night club was a diverse place for everyone to feel safe and accepted. I know this amazing, dynamic community will become stronger and closer than ever as a result of this difficult time.

It’s Thursday.

GALA. I am getting pretty pumped for this 1940’s fundraising gala next weekend. It’s all for a good cause to support the local Shreveport Symphony. There’s going to be live entertainment from the ladies of the New Orleans WWII museum and era music. I talked to the event coordinator yesterday and she wants to put together a slideshow tribute to those who have served in the military, and/or their family members. I also sent her some links on YouTube to the fabulous Parov Stelar in case she hadn’t heard of him; the music is great for “retro parties” when you don’t always want all period music. Even as a huge collector of vintage music, I get weary of back to back Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey at “theme parties”. Plus, as I stress to people who ask me about how to obtain that perfect party atmosphere, I share that you and your guests are really only going to hear the bass and beat, and just snippets of the brass or vocals every now and then. So, the Parov Stelar does the trick, for sure.

Larry’s wearing his Air Force blue service dress, and I’m wearing 1940’s styling: dress, shoes, makeup, hair, back-seam stockings. It should be a blast and we get to meet new people who also love & support the arts in our community. I still have to dig out the shoes (I wore ’em for prom! The linked photos are out of the archives to show you. An ancient blog has its perks; any photo you can think of is stored somewhere on my server. Nice.

SKILLS. A big goal of mine since having a little more time on my hands has been to work on my updo game. In the past few months, I’ve taught myself how to French Braid, work with foam hair “rats” to create serious volume, finagle a sock bun, and tweak/clean up styles I’ve previously rocked. I’ve been taking some photos to share; I apologize that the quality isn’t top notch. Anyway, here are my styles: I am pretty proud of my handiwork! Which do you like best?

The new season of House of Cards premiers on Netflix this weekend. We already watch Vikings, so I’m glad that’s back again. Lagertha is my life inspiration.

Dr. PowerPoint

“What is a week-end?” HAPPY LEAP DAY! Which means it’s an election year. Phooey. And spring break is in less than two weeks. What’s spring break? I haven’t had one of those in nine years. Spring break. Ha. Working people don’t care about your fabled “spring break.”

Further down the line, for the break between spring and summer semesters, we’re jetting to San Francisco. I’m attending a Professional’s Couples Conference for career development; gotta get an endorsement letter from the University. The fabulous Esther Perel will be joining a panel and lecturing. Something about her accent makes her that much more credible about relationships and intimacy. She’s pretty baller; check out her TED Talks if you haven’t already. She takes a realistic, mature approach to intimacy and love; no “soul mate” idealism. Just how people can strengthen themselves and their partner.

After the weekend conference, we plan to drive (more like bike or stumble) through Napa Valley, stopping at wineries along the way. Amie (whose in-laws own a winery in Napa) is going to hook me up with suggestions. Anyway, that’s what I have to look forward to after my first semester as a master’s student. Seems good enough to me.

Class is going well, I’m making fine grades and I have the lock down on presentations and public speaking. Thanks, Air Force! I was talking to one of my classmates about PowerPoint (I have gathered Millenials don’t know how to use Powerpoint. Just smartphones.), and how my dad has a Ph.D. in Organizational Leadership. aka. Powerpoint. She asked, “so, does that make him Dr. Powerpoint?” YES. Yes it does.

Rad Dates. On Saturday, Larry and I went to the Shreveport Symphony to see three tenors sing Broadway’s Best. On the particularly smooth, jazzy numbers, we kept saying how it sounded like “Family Guy”. Seth MacFarlane insists that each episode of “Family Guy” is recorded with a full orchestra. It was pretty great, especially the lovely tenors and their charisma. Chutzpuh. Zazz.

For Valentine’s Day, I baked cookies and played a “love themed” music collection for my war vets.

Larry sneakily bought me one of my favorite albums on vinyl, Cugi’s Cocktails (1963). It is just about the most supreme cocktail party music. I mean, it even has it in the title. How could you go wrong? Each track is the name of a popular cocktail of the time. I always seem to play it when I am getting ready to go out. Somehow it makes my hair bigger and my winged eyeliner on point. Like the photo up there. That was from Valentine’s Day. So is this goofy photo of Otto being absolutely nuts.

Well, I’m off to, as I always say, “disappoint my piano teacher.” Until next time…

It’s Gone Viral.

I READ IT. I posted in a community in Reddit about the “Facebook Mom Challenge,” a ridiculous Facebook viral “challenge” where you post five photos of what represents your “lifestyle” as a mom. I don’t have Facebook… for this exact reason. I guess people posted tons of photos of their kids (without proper security settings, too). In response, and as a social commentary, there was a Reddit thread about a “Non-Mom Challenge” and what we enjoyed about choosing a child-free lifestyle. I posted my “Top 5″… although I could have posted a lot more. Lots to be thankful for.

The UK Telegraph got wind of it and posted an article about this “Mom Challenge” and the backlash online. You guessed it, they found me. Thank god they didn’t directly link to Reddit. Blessings. I only hope others can consider that there are many different life paths, and don’t have to be locked into one. It’s what you make of it.

“An imgur user showed off her pristine white sofa…” Fuck yes I did. I love me some pristine white sofa. I’m heading to Pensacola to visit Devin tomorrow! Nothing like some bestie and Florida time to cheer me. Larry’s in Hawaii this week, so I deserve some sunshine and ocean air, too.

Hello (again), world!

I am writing this on a perfect Friday afternoon. 70° and sunny. I have a lot of good things to share with the world.

NEW TITLES. I updated twice last year; that is pathetic. However, with everything going on — you know how it is… the busier you are and the more great things you’re doing, the less you have time or thought to write it all down. Funny how that works. I did change the title of the blog to a “there’s no dress rehearsal” mentality to life. Drafting Present means your only “rough draft” is what we are doing right now, presently. There’s no final, polished result unless you live it that way. So, it changed to Drafting Present from my aviation theme, which I no longer have an active role in…

NEW BEGINNINGS. For big mentions, I have officially changed careers from a B-52H weapons systems officer to a full-time Masters student. As I write this, a B-52 is flying overhead at 1,000 ft over my house. Do I miss it? Nope. It was a good run, folks. I got to travel all over the world, and even land in some awesome places. Most notable were Guam, Alaska, and Las Vegas. If I told you about all the cool places I flew over, well, I’d probably have to kill you. Ha. No, seriously. Ha!

Overall, the military was good to me. I paid off student loans with a great career right out of college, lived in interesting places (San Antonio, TX; North Dakota…), got a husband out of it, earned Veteran’s status, and they pay you to return to school for more education. Speaking of which, I am enrolled in the Masters of Science program at Louisiana State University to gain my certification as a Counselor. I think “Life Coach” or “Life Consultant” would be looking pretty good on a business card once it’s all said and done. I am just a couple weeks into the program and they really like us to “give presentations.” The Air Force helped with that, too. Overall, the military said, “What do you want to do? You can be anything now that you’re done and we will pay for it.” So here I am. Turned in my military ID last week for a “dependent ID”. It’s a transition to deal with no longer having that sweet officer title. Now people assume I have five kids and stay at home eating candy when I am introduced as my husband’s spouse. But one day I will have a P.h.D. and won’t care anymore. Dr. and Major. Feels good.

Next weekend I am heading over to visit Devin in Pensacola, Florida. He teaches brand new Lieutenants how to survive in the aircraft. There were rumblings of a cocktail party at this place: he knows how much I love parties! And, he has a sweet bachelor pad and is just minutes from the beach. And speaking of beach, Larry is heading to Hawaii tomorrow for a business trip. For his birthday. He has all the luck. Didn’t get him a gift. Sorry not sorry.

NEW SKILLS. During my two months of “down time” between separating from the military and beginning school full time, I’ve been working on a few skills. I can bake bread like a professional, and I’m pretty good with beautiful hair creations (up do’s) now, too. I am also taking piano lessons from the best teacher ever! He is helping me with theory. I am still visiting my elderly folks at the rest home on Saturdays. Last week I learned one gentleman was in the Battle of the Bulge. You never know who you are talking to.

I have a feeling these two years will fly by. I hope I can hang on and enjoy the ride, and the impending move that is sure to follow, if not sooner. For now, I’ll drink lots of coffee, sport my white girl yoga pants, and enjoy this opportunity to focus on school. Oh, and the trip to San Francisco/Napa Valley to attend to a Counseling conference. These people have the right idea.

Personal Halloway

Realized my bra and my toenail polish matched today. So that’s something I have going for me.

JOBS JOBS JOBS. Apparently my back is pretty jacked up. This means I haven’t flown since February. This means I get anywhere from two to four hours of sleep each night. This means I’m moving squadrons. This means I’m getting a new job (or two) less than five months before I separate from Active Duty in December. I mean, sure, there are reasons not to keep a brokeass has-been weapons officer around your squadron, I get the numbers issue. It is a lot better to fill that spot I’m hogging with someone capable. But… less than five months? Close to a month of that time I will be out-processing or on leave. I’m going to be a squadron executive officer (secretary) again. When I was an exec previously, I liked making the bosses look good. I liked my bosses. Best bosses I ever had. So that makes a difference. We shall see how things go in the next couple weeks. To train the guy taking over my job (new lieutenant), my shop chief lobbied for me to have two weeks of on-the-job training. I had to fight to get one damn day. This poor guy is not set up for success, and neither is the 94 people whose security clearances and training he has to manage. It’s okay though, because I get two days to learn my new jobs… yes, job with an -s… including executive officer… which is usually two weeks or longer of changeover. I feel like no one has my back right now.

Larry’s gone for a while on his duty overseas. I think it’s perfectly normal to make up songs and sing them to your dog. Or carry on entire conversations with his responses in a Scooby Doo-like voice, debating politics, fashion, and the pro’s and con’s of ingesting questionable culinary choices from the very back of the fridge. I’m okay guys, really! See… I go out and do things with friends. At casinos. Classy.

MUSIC TUNES NOTES. All my gentlemen pals at the Louisiana  War Veteran’s Home are doing really well. I go visit with them each Saturday and play piano. It’s pretty neat how different homes like different genres. The assisted living facility in Minot, North Dakota requested mostly Lutheran hymns. This also goes for the center I was playing for in town here (I’ve since haven’t returned after begging for months to be placed on their entertainment schedule). The War Vets home likes country music, like Hank Williams and Slim Whitman jams (Slim’s my jam, I’m a big collector)… but they also appreciate honky tonky show tunes. Very interesting. Anyway, I get over there once a week or more if I have the time. There’s nothing I’d rather be doing than doling out weekly hugs to handsome elderly vets. ♥

SHAME. Oh man, I’m thirty now, by the way. I like it. The first thing that happened to me when I got up after turning thirty was drive down the highway & get propositioned for freeway exit sex with obscene gestures. Shame on you, Missouri drivers. SHAME. Speaking of which, I can play Rains of Castamere on the piano. Don’t all you brides-to-be be blowin’ up my phone for me to play at your receptions. Well, if I ever answered my phone.

ANSISTERY. Lastly, I did a fancy DNA spit cup test at Ancestry.com to find out my ethnicity. Oh before all you freedom fighters get all crazy, the military already has my DNA on file. So it’s a non-issue. Anyway! I got this eyeopening look at what makes me, ME… from a ’round the world standpoint. I was always told I was “Half Italian (speak it third best), German, and Irish.” Well, I am just as much Irish as I am Middle Eastern! How cool is that? I even have DNA from PAPUA NEW GUINEA! So baller I can’t even handle it! Anyway here are the actual results:


Larry got 100% European. Figures.

Where the Fun Ain’t Got No End…

WE RUN THIS. So. Hafa Adai, Guam. We need to talk! In retrospect, this deployment was a whirlwind of amazing people, truly rewarding flying with top aviators, copious amounts of booze, & more than a few bad decisions… & I mean that in the nicest way possible. A few of us carved out a nice group, adopting each other as a dysfunctional little family. And, oh, a family it was, with everyone watching each others’ backs and taking care of one another. It’s so important when you’re seven thousand miles from home to have friends that care about you. Not to mention awesome wingmen to go to the clubs with, and get in trouble with; that’s the important shit! Here’s our official squadron photo; let me highlight the fact Wrecker is throwing a too-sassy hip, and Lucky & Mike are the only cool guys with their sleeves rolled up. Red Devils, the Air Force’s finest.

Anyway, there were so many fun nights out, and a pilot in our squadron actually brought his DJ gear and played some gigs in the clubs downtown. How baller is that? Get deployed and DJ, which is his favorite thing in the world to do. It made me super happy to see him in his chill zone, especially when resident DJs recognized him at other events, like a huge New Year’s Eve party we went to at the Sheraton hotel in Tumon. Speaking of NYE, it was pretty much the best ever. Rustic, Wrecker, and I were on a serious mission the day after Christmas to scour Guam for the party dresses and shoes this bitch had to offer. Not passing up an opportunity to hang out with the squadron’s most fun ladies, Mike tagged along to give second opinions on party attire. He even got a dress shirt and red tie to wear to the party. A TIE. So fucking baller; looked more swank than any of the dudes there. Anyway, the ladies were successful and we all got “personality dresses”. I saw Wrecker’s in the window at Guess? and it just screamed “Red Devil”. I strong armed her into trying it on, and it looked like it was made for her. Rustic found a pinup style retro dress, and I found a short dress that was completely covered in gold sequins. I’ll say it once, I’ll say it again. For me personally, it takes a lot of money to look this cheap. My sister said our lives were like a Ke$ha song. I’m not totally sure whether to be really flattered or really ashamed. The fact I’m not sure which says it all… Lost ten pounds on Guam due to me & Wrecker’s um, liquid diet. This is how we do.

NYE2014. The New Year’s Eve started with our very handsome, very pilot-y, very platonic dates coming by a little early to pregame. And what did these courteous and polite young Air Force officers bring? Why, a bigass bottle of Veuve Clicquot Champagne, of course. After pouring the ladies each a glass, we continued getting our fancy on, departing the base in an eight passenger van (which was aptly named the Vomit Comet. I don’t know who could have bestowed such a name on it). Super baller. So we ate at Ban Thai, my last dinner out on the island before heading to the hotel party. The party itself was full of well-dressed ladies, which made me really happy that somewhere, sometime people get fancy. Really, it can be related to a party rocker prom with booze. In keeping with the circus theme, there were open bar little tents set up with different libations, a dance floor in the middle, and couches to lounge on. Wrecker and I, who are always joined at the hip when we go out, pinged back and forth all over the place, managing a couple Fireball shots before they were completely out. The guys were running to catch up with us; they said they just looked for the super tall hair to track us down. They also were running super stealthy creeper interference; it was a thing of legend. It was such a good time with good drinks, dancing, music, with fireworks at midnight. Including the release of the film The Interview, it’s safe to say fireworks were the theme of the night. Helluva sendoff. Red Devils closed that place down.

GOING HOME. The morning of my departure to return to The States, Wrecker, Mike and Rustic went with me to the airport, which was so kind of them since we had to leave the house at 0500. Mike was a total gentleman & hefted all my bags for me (they each weighed more than fifty pounds. Think I need to pack lighter next time) into the Vomit Comet. Rustic kept her music going because it’s always the best. I hugged everyone goodbye, which just about the worst thing ever. I just pushed it out of my mind and got through the airport schlock as soon as I could. It was my first time flying in first class; I upgraded my ticket because I actually saved a lot of money while on Guam. The Japanese businessman sitting next to me was also getting hammered at 0830, so my rife and unabashed alcoholism was swept under the rug. I felt so out of place at first, being that I didn’t even know how the seats worked! They’re super complicated for someone who’s kind of a bubblehead like me. Go figure, I can use an ejection seat and parachute, but this shit perplexes me. So I was totally creepin’ on Japanesey dude, to see how he did his seat, then I did mine. Demo/Do. The flights were nice, and I was able to chat with friends online the whole time, when I wasn’t passed out on Ambient. They were so good to keep me company when I needed a friend most.

It’s been kind of a difficult transition for me back here, honestly. It’s been raining almost constantly since I arrived, and the highs are about 38F. The time change has been brutal (Guam’s time zone is 16 hours ahead). I still have been only sleeping 4 hours a night (Guam party standard). I’m trying to stay busy at home, working out and eating right. And by eating right, I mean forgetting to eat. I miss all my friends so much; it’s really hard. It’s super difficult to go from having good conversations, scuba diving, flying exciting missions all over the world, partying constantly at your house & at the Guam clubs with your best friends, talking about everything and anything all the time, shopping, beautiful beach-going in Tumon every weekend… I told everyone to enjoy their last couple months there. Since this was my last deployment, ever, I spent the last day at the beach with everyone I care about most.

TMI. Last week, I went to drop off my medical records at the Flight Medicine clinic, and they had an appointment available for a ladies’ annual ob/gyn checkup. So, I go into the exam room in flight med, and the 20th Bomb Squadron’s Flight Doc talks to me about my request for a Nexplanon implant birth control startup, suuuuper awkwardly. The guy’s the same age as me, for reference, sporting a flight suit. Both Captains. Okay, so after this excruciatingly odd conversation about my sexual health and the obligatory question, “Do you feel safe at home?”… He does the breast exam and the lady parts exam. Side story: Every damn time I get this done, there’s always an entourage of trainees in the room. I had FIVE extra people in the room once, taking notes. Baller lady parts, for real.

During the whole thing, especially the exam, he seemed super nervous (should have maybe bought him a drink first?). Turns out afterwards, he said they typically send us flyer ladies up to the Women’s Clinic, and asked why I requested to stay in Flight Medicine for it, instead of seeing a specialist. I hadn’t been told about the choice when I checked in at the front desk. The Flight Doc, surprised, said it was “Good to do one of these once in a while.” (For training). Lucky SOB. Got a good one to re-hack on. So, yeah, it was a day of firsts. Not that I care that much, but first male doctor for this type of exam (and he was kinda cute too, damn) and first time a general Flight Doc did a women’s exam for me. So awkward! But at least I get that birth control, son.

THE END. When I got back to the squadron last week, I wanted to hug everyone, including the newbs. I am so used to being around amazing people all the time that I just miss everyone, including the constant people being around my house, roosting in my living room, and the constant din of people having a good time or talking enthusiastically. But I AM happy I am back to my Steinway piano. My numba one playa. Get it? Play… Yep. For you Oglaf fans, BEST AT PUNS!

Hocus Pocus! Abracadbra.

BACK TO BACK. Adventure around every corner. Adventure being a tropical storm swirled towards Guam, so I got to spend a few days in Alaska (again) to escape from its forty knot wind speed clutches. When I first saw the satellite imagery of tropical storm Vongfong, I remarked it was not very well organized and lacked a central eye for the clouds to form around, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. Being from Florida, I am somewhat of a friggin’ expert on storms and hurricanes, since I lived through twenty-three years of them. Anyway, they made us get out and what a letdown that storm was for the island. Let down meaning we get more rolling brownouts from the shitty infrastructure here than any power outages during this “deadly typhoon”. Now, don’t get me wrong, it turned into a super typhoon a few days later as it became much more formed up and gained that central eye. Some pilot who is chronically full of shit (standard) tried to tell me it was super deadly and destructive because it wasn’t compact and its eye was off-center to the north, asymmetric and shit. Yeah, right. So I spent a couple nights in Alaska. Sadly enough, they hardly let us go anywhere out, so the highlight was catching the “good parts” of Magic Mike on TV. So. lame. as is driving to bars forty minutes away in blizzards.

BA BC. This past few weekend I’ve been scuba diving with my new gear. FYI, I purchased an Aqua Lung setup, with the new travel Zuma BC & mikron regulator. It weighs four pounds, so it’s good for packing for trips (and for me & Larry’s upcoming Caribbean cruise). It has integrated weights, and I added ten (although I needed eleven with my rental gear before, which was also heavier). Definitely not enough weight. Luckily, I was only about fifty feet down (bad visibility anyway) before shooting to the surface. The chicks out here only need like, seven pounds. Guess I’m full of hot air, it’s official. Or that thing about being an airhead. One of those. Need 13 lbs. Lucky 13. But the awesome thing is, one dive was an hour long and I still had 1200psi left in my tank. The next was an hour, with 1600psi left. Lastly, a shallow dive (39 feet) left me with 1400psi after 88 minutes. Comatose diver FTW… and snorkeler. You can’t see my lobster-like sunburn in this photo, mostly because I found it after coming home from a couple days in a row of roasting. Skin cancer pain train. Anyway, saw the sea turtle, lion fish, barracuda, star fish, and clown fish in an anemone.

KABOOM. I dropped twenty-seven M117s (750 lbs. bombs) last week, shacking target practice. This Friday is my check ride. My crew is full of very senior people, including my “nav”, who has over nine-thousand hours in the B-52. In case you’re confused, that’s 375 days in a B-52. That’s 54 weeks; over a year. So, he’s pretty good at what he does. Pretty nifty.

“Wednesday, do you think that maybe someday you might want to get married and have kids?”
“No.”
“But what if you met the right man, who worshiped and adored you? Who’d do anything for you? Who’d be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?”
“I’d pity him.”