After all the snow, the ice, and the messy roads of last Thursday, everything in these parts now has that old "Winter Wonderland" look. Which is lovely and picturesque around Christmas but the rest of the year is just a reminder that "baby, it's cold outside."
Well, one could actually check the temperature I suppose but all that white stuff will give one a clue that it might be wise to bundle up and, oh yeah, don't forget your galoshes.
And does anyone still call rubber boots that one wears over ones normal shoes "galoshes"? For those who need to know such things, the word "galoshes," (plural for "galosh") comes from Middle English (denoting a type of clog): via Old French from late Latin gallicula, diminutive of Latin gallica (solea) ‘Gallic (shoe).’ En français the word is galoche. All this so my sources (aka the Internet) tell me.
The arrival of this latest batch of frozen precipitation (which, as I mentioned, commenced on Thursday, had a bit more on Saturday, then a bit more on Sunday) coincided with the latest recurrence of a little thing I like to call the "Cold From Hell." (Yes, each word is intentionally capitalized to give the concept a bit of gravitas.)
I received this gift from The Missus Herself who had received it from someone else. Who you might ask? Well, could be one of my better half's Korean friends. Perhaps someone at the grocery store. Hhmm, she did have a doctor's appointment last week, lots of sick people go there. Or it might have been someone from church. Nah, unlikely. I'm going with "someone at the doctor's office." I mean if I feel totally like crap and can't shake it, where would I go?
Nope, doctor's office was the answer we were looking for. Oh sorry, do I need to pose that in the form of a question? As in, "What is the doctor's office?" (For all the Jeopardy fans in the audience, come on, I know there are a few.)
At any rate, The Missus Herself claims to be on the upswing vis-à-vis the whole rhinovirus thing, as do I when I'm talking to others. But in actual reality we both still feel like crap, while she wouldn't say it, I will. "I feel like a blivet. I feel like five miles of bad road. I feel like I've been rode hard and put away wet."
You mean you'd say one of those things, right Sarge? Nope, I tend to go with all three sometimes, or any combination of those, one or more as the case may be. Then again, I might just go with the classic, "I feel like crap." With certain not-so-subtle variations on the word "crap" often employed. Depending on who I'm talking to and whether or not The Missus Herself is listening. And if she's in aural range, she's always listening. If'n you catch my meaning.
Anyhoo, snow on the ground, feel like crap, and yes, I too am starting to wonder where I'm going with today's post. Perhaps, as Half-Colonel Juvat might put it, it's due to me being "the oldest Sergeant known to exist." While I will confess to being "old" I can't say for certain that I'm the "oldest to exist." After all, long time reader and frequent commenter Ron was also in the Air Force, was also a Sergeant and, I'm pretty sure, is a year (or so) older than Your Humble Scribe. Perhaps the age thing is just due to his air of wisdom and such. I dunno. (On those grounds I am naught but a babe in arms!)
Back to Juvat, now Half-Colonel (as opposed to Diet Colonel, a term of mine own devising) is British slang (IIRC) for a Lieutenant Colonel. Other terms for an officer in the Army, Marines or Air Force at the pay grade of O-5 are (according to the pedia of wiki) :
Slang terms for the rank historically used by the U.S. military include "light colonel", "short colonel", "light bird", "half colonel", "bottlecap colonel" (referring to the silver oak leaf insignia), and "telephone colonel" (from self-reference as "colonel" when using a telephone).My favorite is "telephone colonel," never heard that one before, though I did have a Senior Airman (pay grade E-4) who would always answer the phone "Sergeant So and So." (At the time a Sergeant in the Air Force was also an E-4, long story there which I'm not going to get into at this time.) So my airman was passing himself off as a "telephone sergeant."
When I chastised the young man for doing that he said, "Sarge, if I answer the phone as Airman So and So, the caller wants to speak to a sergeant. If I answer as Sergeant So and So, then maybe I can answer their question or address their complaint."
Well, as this chap, though a perfectly decent fellow, wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, I didn't really want him "answering questions or addressing complaints." So yeah, he and I came to an agreement that he would stop doing that. Forthwith.
Heh, like he had a choice.
But I digress.
No, actually that was the point of today's post. Such as it is.
For one period in my life, I was the man, I got to call the shots. As long as my captain was okay with it. Everyone has a boss. Even Master Sergeants. Old or otherwise.