Win Some, Lose Some.

ON A JET PLANE. — Since it’s been a while since my last update, I’ve learned I am deploying soon. Breaker’s Bar and Grill will be in full swing again. My proposed move to Louisiana in the late summer, that I was really looking forward to, is pretty much forgotten about at this time. I don’t know where I’ll be in six or seven months, or how I will sell my house from thousands of miles away. Because of this, Larry and I are considering just letting him move to any Air Force base he wants in the world, and I’d finish my two more years here in Minot. If I don’t move by 18 December, this is the plan that most likely will occur. What’s another two years apart, right? We’ve already done that once…

LAME. KNEE. — Yesterday was rated to be a pretty awful day. Of course, it started with me running a few minutes late for work. I had my Air Force physical training test to take (and in equally dorky a uniform) and it seemed I couldn’t make it out of the house without forgetting something. Lunch, tea, gym bag, wallet, keys, etc… I fell and ate shit on an extra slippery 6″ of solid ice near my garage. My knee broke the fall, of course, with a 1.5 mile run to do in an hour. I considered going back inside and calling off the test, but I told myself to stop being so lame and just do it. And I did.

So, the results were that I cut 1+30 minutes off my 1.5 mile run time, 1/2″ off my waist measurement, lost ten pounds (5’8.5″/143 lbs/BMI 21.4), all since six months ago. I performed 38 pushups in one minute and 31 sit-ups in one minute.

However, I had to achieve 38 sit-ups (and only 17 pushups) to make minimums to pass the test. So I failed on inability to perform seven more sit-ups. Whoops. Now I have to take a three hour class on nutrition, healthy lifestyles, and fitness. So, Air Force, you are telling me that an organic, plant-based diet (vegetarian/vegan) advocate who runs a 12+30 minute 1.5 mile run, a 112/62 blood pressure and a 28″ waist (size 6) has to attend a class on diet and lifestyle changes. Oh, the irony. They’ll probably tell me to “curb my fast food intake” or “watch the energy drinks and sodas”. Gross on both accounts.

After that hideous time at the gym, I went straight to a doctor’s appointment to get six vials of blood drawn for the usual tests. Vampirism, really. Needless to say, I was pretty bummed. I feel like it’s damned if you do, damned if you don’t with the whole physical fitness test. I eat extremely healthily, and work out with weight training and cardio three times a week. I take a lot of great natural supplements to improve my focus and outlook. I have never felt so clear minded, fit, and alert, ever. But I feel pretty awful about the assessment. There’s really no way around that for a type-a personality. We don’t really like to fail at anything — it’s extremely personal for us. So yeah, sucks.

RUNAWAY HOUND. — In other news, our German Pinscher, Cammie, chased a rabbit out of the yard on 26 January. It was -4°F outside and the windchill was in the -20°Fs. We spent hours in the dark and snow searching for her, to no avail. We did the same the next night. I contracted a terrible cold from being so cold for that long. Saturday was spent searching as well. The temperature sank to -18° with -45°F wind chills. No sign of her. We put up flyers — nobody called.

I came across a community online, where a member had mentioned they had a black and tan dog at their house that looked thin. We checked it out, but it wasn’t Cammie. It had a totally different face. C’mon people, really.

Three and a half weeks later, we received a telephone call from Animal Control. They saw the flyers and had a call about a dog matching that description two weeks earlier, but was unable to coax the dog out. It was a mere four streets north of our house, so we jumped in the car to check it out. Cammie was under an out building, in the dirt and rubble, deathly thin. She was growling at everyone, and retreating further back under the shed in fear. The guy who lived at the house brought out some Milkbone treats, and Larry and I tried to get her to sniff the goodie. I jingled food in her bowl. After about five minutes, she came out and immediately starting wagging her tail and jumping all over us. She was so thin you could see every bone; she easily would have died after another week.

What I can’t understand is why the dude living at the house didn’t set out food for her. “I thought she had pups under there…” Then why would you not feed her? Would you like to sleep outside on the frozen ground in -20°F weather and slowly starve to death? What a cruel person…

We brought her home, gave her our homemade dog food (hamburger, brown rice, carrots, green beans, tuna, and eggs) and she ate like a champ. She settled into her big, cushiony bed and relaxed and rested. She is doing just fine, and in one week, has completely filled out: no more bones. However, she doesn’t have the muscle definition she did. It’s a miracle she survived almost a month of sub-zero temperatures with so little meat on her. She has a little bit of frostbite on the end of her stubby tail, and on her ear tips. She is in great spirits, and just loves being with us and little Otto dog again. This story had a happy ending.

— I know this post seemed like a lot of gloom and doom, but that’s just the ebb and flow of life. I’m at a lower spot right now, but I suppose it could always be worse (or better). I see my co-worker, a civilian working at the desk next to mine, getting a $600/month cut in her pay due to sequestration. These congressional fat cat do-nothings get so much money per year and keep voting themselves a raise — and they get a salary for life. The good people I know are having a really hard time and it’s just so disappointing. I am losing a lot of faith in a lot of things for now. I need a change of everything.Here is the back of a shirt I designed for my squadron:

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