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.

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