Sunday, September 6, 2015


The hedge along the northern perimeter of Chez Sarge.
While I'm writing this on Saturday evening, you all will be reading this on Sunday, for that is when it will be published. If I make mistakes with my tenses, that will be my excuse. (Note that I didn't say "y'all" in that first sentence. As I'm not from the South I felt it would be pretentious of me to use "y'all." That's an observation, not a judgement. Uncle Sam's Aim High Society taught me to write like I speak. Well, how I'd speak if my Mother is listening, otherwise this here blog would no doubt score an "R" rating for adult language.)

Today is the day that The Missus Herself heads out West to California to await the birth of grandchild number four. We already know that the baby is a girl through the wonders of modern medicine.

So of course the Navy, in their infinite wisdom, made sure that Big Time would not be at home for the birth of his and The WSO's second child. Rush, rush, rush, it's off to Sandy Eggo you must go so that you may accompany your mighty flattop out to sea.

Except of course that the boat is broken and won't be going to sea just yet. Can Big Time head back to the ranch? Nope, it is forbidden, the furthest they can travel is 200 miles, one of those "just in case" we need you measures. As you may have already guessed, Chez Big Time et WSO lies much further off than 200 miles.

The WSO informed me that she was entertaining the idea of heading down to Point Mugu, where there is a naval installation, for to meet up with hubby, Point Mugu lies just at the outer range of travel from Sandy Eggo.

I asked her if she planned on keeping the CHP informed that they would need an obstetrician standing by for to deliver the newest addition to the tribe. She informed me that "it was just an idea Dad, don't panic." As the apple falls not far from the tree it was not so much panic I felt but a sinking feeling that it sounded like something I would have done in my youth. Therefore I had a feeling she might actually try that.

But no, in matters of common sense The WSO takes after her Mom. Thank the Lord!

So today (tomorrow from my perspective) I must arise at the butt crack of dawn and transport my better half to the local airport for a flight which will take a long time. The way I look at it is, of course, that I will need to take care of myself while she's away. Instructions have been left, food has been prepared and placed in cryostorage for later use and I am mentally prepared to have little human contact over the next week or so.

So if my blog posts next week seem to consist of hissing, meowing and purring, that's not me, it just means that I let the cats have at the computer. I'm sure Google Translate can handle the feline dialect.

Anya has registered her objections.

Then again, I think I can retain my English by watching Netflix and interacting with the folks at Dunkin' Donuts and the grocery store.

We shall see.


  1. Parallel universes... PHG leaves in the morning for a week in Michigan.

    1. Cue Twilight Zone music!

      I see your luggage has finally rejoined!

  2. "The Missus" sound like my better half. When she has one of her conventions coming up, she spends a week
    fixing meals and putting them in cryostorage because apparently this doddering old fool is incapable of taking
    care of himself. At least you'll have the cats to keep you company and boss you around. Praying for WSO to
    have an easy delivery and a healthy little one. "Ya'll have a good time now, ya hear?"

  3. Sounds like the missus takes very good care of you. If not, drive to Berlin or Plantsville to visit dream dinners for your daily intake. Easy prep and great meals.

    1. Oh she does indeed. Berlin, Plantsville? What / where are these places of which you speak?

  4. I realize that an old Air Force Sarge wouldn't be aware of some Naval traditions. Having been raised in a Navy family and having a son who is currently the fourth generation to serve at sea, I am happy to inform you that, at least according to my mother, that it is a tradition of the service that Naval officers are REQUIRED to be absent for the arrival of movers for each PCS, and for the arrival of children. As a commanding officer once told a young ensign who asked for leave to be there when his child was to born; Son, you are crucial for the laying of the keel, but you are entirely superfluous for the launch.

    1. I suspected as much. But in all fairness to the Navy, for their first child he was able to come back from the boat. Then flew back out the day after.

      He had a sympathetic CAG IIRC.

  5. Hoping all goes well and the Misses returns to find an intact Chez Sarge.

  6. Thoughts and prayers that everything goes well... And it's a Navy rule, you can be there for conception or delivery, but not both... sigh

    1. Thanks Cajun.

      Yup, one or the other, not both. (One always hopes that it's the former!)


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