I'm Right Here ...

Where I like to eat in Hanford, CA.
OAFS Photo

I am easing back into posting something everyday. Juvat was concerned that his Medal of Honor posts were not generating enough "hits" as the blog has seen in the past. I told him not to worry. This blog has never been about pleasing the masses in order to generate more "hits."

After all, the vagaries of how Google/Blogger counts visits to these parts is suspect at best. When the daily post gets less than 300 hits (average seems to run around 200) I find it hard to believe that the following graph represents anything approaching reality -

Under the hood screenshot

Sure, a hundred thousand hits one day, under ten thousand the next? Sure, I believe that.

I know there's about a hundred hard core readers out there, you all seem to be here every day, you don't always comment, but I know you're there. Might be another hundred or so casual readers, but it's all grist for the mill. I know you folks like the Medal of Honor posts. apparently the spambots do not. Which is a bonus in my estimation.

So, what am I going to be writing about in the near future? I honestly don't know. I'm going to let the Medal of Honor posts go on, there are six left, with my own offerings interspersed with those.

I have a lot of things on my plate right now. Not things I have (or need) to do, but things I want to do. After all, I am retired.

I did have an idea for a new series the other day, after a sleepless night of trying to put the elements of the story together, I dumped the idea. Hey, it felt like work, I don't do that anymore.

I've acquired a new boardgame or three over the past few months, got another one Tuesday. This was truly an impulse buy. I liked the concept, so I put my money where my mouth is and pulled the trigger. 

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The game is slightly outside of the norm for me, as it is, to some extent, card-driven¹. Which means that another element of chance has been added, outside of the dice rolls of course. I've played other card-driven games which were actually fun. So I thought I'd give it a try. It also comes with a system for solitaire play. Which I need, as I tend to play these for their historical insight as opposed to being competitive.

As I once told my step granddaughter, I'm no longer a very competitive guy. The Air Force broke me of that habit.

"Wanna get promoted?"

"Well, sure, I just have to be the best at my job right?"

"Uh, yeah, sure. You also need to be better than Sergeant Schmuckatelli over there who is the squadron voting officer, volunteers at the local orphanage, and scores very high on the tests."

"Uh, Schmuckatelli is always off doing his additional duties, we never see him around the shop. How does that make any sense, Lieutenant?"

Never did get a good answer on that one. So competitive I'm not, unless it involves chasing a ball around on a field. And I'm far too old for that sort of thing anymore. (I'm 73, my knees act like they're over a hundred, and don't get me started on my back ...)

Anyhoo, I do play games against other humans, usually my family. Which can be fun.

"Uh, honey, are you sure you want to land there and attack Berlin? You'll need to roll eleven or better for that to ..."

"Yay! I rolled a twelve!"

"Why yes, yes you did. Wanna watch TV or something?"

She's exceptional at boardgames, but we used to have a Mattel Intellivision, think early video game, at which I constantly beat her, badly. Funny how we don't play that anymore ...

Ah well, back atcha soon, I promise.

¹ One draws, or is dealt, cards which dictate what you can or cannot do. Want to invade the Philippines? Better have the right card in your hand. Things of that nature.

Wait, What?

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Had a lazy day Wednesday, thought seriously about another one on Thursday, but dontcha know, that front lawn needed cutting, needed it bad.

So I did that, after a brief pause to let said lawn dry off after a wee passing shower.

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Now when I finally got off my ass resolved to cut the grass I noticed a lot of sketchy looking clouds hanging about. Checked my weather app, which said rain likely at 1600 and 1700. Note, it was 1530 when I was set to go mow.

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I decided, after a little voice in my head yelled "Hey Sarge, they're called weather guessers for a reason," that I would head out and if it started raining, well, then I'd get wet. Unlike past days where I would keep going unless it started up with lightning and thunder, I'd have to call it off if it started raining again. Hey, water wouldn't stall my mower, just clog it. These days though, the electric mower might actually sustain damage.

Well, I'd do what I could, if it rained, well, like Little Orphan Annie sang, "there's always tomorrow." I mean, what the hey, I'm retired, ain't I? I've got the time, don't I?

Anyhoo. Got it done. Then thought about blogging. Took some photos outside, did some reading inside, was looking for inspiration. Couldn't find it.

Life has been passing strange lately. Losing a buddy at 55 still freaks me out. It shouldn't, after all, I've lost friends and colleagues in the military at much younger ages, but still, when you can see the end of things not that far off, it's rattling to see someone else get there first.

I've seen death up close and personal, not a fan, I can tell you, but ...

Enough of that. Miss you, Doug.

Anyhoo. Had an exceptionally bizarre dream the other day, I mean really bizarre.

The Missus Herself sent me to the store, so I went. When I stepped outside, I was no longer in Little Rhody, but had somehow managed to get transported to Paris, yes, the one in France. And the City of Lights was an awful mess.

All the bridges over the Seine were down, but you could get to the other side via tunnels under the river. As I approached the entrance to one tunnel, I noted that I was wearing naught but my skivvies. Odd that. But no one seemed to care.

Entered the tunnel which, for some reason, was being painted. I complimented the two chaps actually doing the painted. Didn't strike me until much later that the two painters were dressed like Mario and Luigi. Yes, that Mario and Luigi. (Probably because I watched the original Mario Brothers movie, and the second one as well in the theater, a couple of weeks ago with my youngest grandsons. FWIW, I liked the first one better, why is it that sequels always seem to fall short?)

Just about the time I got to the other side of the Seine, finding myself near the Eifel Tower, I realized that none of the people in the dream were actually, ya know, speaking French. Then I woke up.

What the actual fire truck?

Don't remember what I ate that night.

Like I said, life has been a little strange lately.

It'll get better ...

Right?

I'm binge-listening to Puddle of Mudd as I try to remember where I was in the story I was telling. You know, that war thing. It ain't helping, but damn, that's an excellent band.

I shall return, most likely.

Hopefully far less pensive and a lot more motivated

Please Standby ...

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I have a story idea banging around inside my head, it wants to come out, but it ain't ready yet. I know better than to try and force it, it's in there and may, or may not, present itself soon. We shall see.

I feel like I'm hibernating, simply putting myself "on hold" until the next scheduled event comes to pass. It's not like I'm sitting, staring at the wall, or just eating and sleeping. Nope, I read, I watch movies and certain television shows, all streaming, I don't do the dish thing anymore. I listen to music, lots of music, and bang on the drum kit from time to time. I really need to get my six-string repaired and dust off my bass guitar as well. Music is in me, I'm not good at it, but I like the attempt.

Oh and games, I play games on the computer and I have a bunch of new board games I need to break out. I'll write about those later. When I get there.

Still I'm waiting, circling the field, and, well, just waiting.

Next big event is Finnegan's third birthday near the end of the month. I'm looking forward to going to Maryland again but this will be a shorter stay. With the kids in school and Tuttle and The Nuke both working there's not much to do during the day, so it wouldn't be much different to being home. Other than getting to see everybody in the evening.

We'll see, it's a long drive but I do enjoy it. Especially as I don't go through Moscow on the Hudson anymore. The drive up over the Tappan Zee adds twenty miles to the trip but the scenery in that area is lovely and it's not like I'm in an all-fired hurry to get places these days.

With all the travel lately I had an email from our pastor wondering if anything was wrong as they don't see us as much as they used to. I pointed out that now that I'm retired I can pull pitch and travel whenever I feel like it, so I do.

Freedom is awesome.

Rumor has it that there is the possibility of snow this coming weekend. Temperatures right now are in the mid to upper 40s so it needs to get colder. Other than a few parking lots, all vestiges of our last snow have vanished. I don't mind the snow as long as it isn't excessive, which here on the coast is seldom, and the larder is well-stocked.

Always amusing to go to the store just before a predicted snowstorm and seeing people buying enough supplies for a month. What's their plan if the power goes out? I'm not sure that five gallons of milk and twelve loaves of bread will keep for that long. I guess you could put the stuff in the yard, in the snow, and hope it doesn't freeze.

I once thought that anything with alcohol wouldn't freeze if left outside in the winter. Did you know that beer will definitely freeze? Don't ask me how I know.

Anyhoo, that's it for now.

Don't mean to be boring but hey, sometimes I am. (Some of you who know me well are probably rolling their eyes right now and saying "Sometimes?" Heh.)

Tschüss!

Random Thoughts on a Rainy Monday¹

Fair Use

In the photo above, we see USS Zumwalt (DDG 1000) coming down the Kennebec River from Bath Iron Works, heading towards the Atlantic Ocean. According to my sources, the event above occurred on September 7, 2016.

Source

The map above (and below) depicts part of the Kennebec River, that above shows where Bath Iron Works sits in relation to where the opening photo was shot. On the map below you can see the distinctive curve of the waterway flowing into the Kennebec as USS Zumwalt is about to pass down the river with Fiddler Ledge on her starboard side.

It's a lovely photo of the Maine countryside with the mist upon the waterways. By the angle of the sun, I'd guess it was early morning. (Also one of the more likely times to see fog upon the water.)

I can't find the original source of the photo, I got it from a buddy at work, but it's an awfully pretty picture, innit?

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I have mixed feelings about the three ships which make up the Zumwalt class. Though they have provided me with gainful employment for the last twenty plus years, the fact that it's been twenty plus years kinda sticks in my craw. Should it really take that long to design, build, test, and deploy a modern warship?

My gut says, "No, it should not." But having been in on this project from the ground floor, I've seen a lot of changes made over the life of this contract (multiple contracts really) not all of which made sense. Let's just say, if you ask the Navy what they want, they'll tell you. They might change their minds eighty-eight times, but at least you should have a pretty good idea of what they want.

Thing is, too many decisions were made by folks who won't ever be on those ships. Too many decisions were made by people who have never been on a warship. Nor had any of them ever worked on, operated, or seen an actual combat system.

You read that right.

When you read, or hear, of a government project going off the rails, there's a reason. Usually it's letting incompetent/inexperienced people (sometimes both) make critical decisions.

But hey, throw another billion dollars at it, that'll fix things.

Sigh ...

Retirement beckons.

¹ Written on Monday, published on Tuesday.

Worn Down to a Nub ...

Winchendon, MA
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I grew up in New England, so I'm kinda partial to the place.

Now I've lived in Japan, Korea, Colorado, Nebraska, Mississippi, and Germany. I've also spent lots of time in Texas, California, Virginia, Louisiana, and Maryland.

Texas doesn't really count though, all my time there was spent in Air Force training. Didn't get out much but traveling through Texas I had some awesome BBQ at a roadside place in Junction City.

But I, being born and raised in New England, expect to spend my twilight years here as well. If I can pull that off and The Missus Herself doesn't veto that plan. Oh well.

Clyde, The Rocking Horse
Winchendon, MA
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That rocking horse above, yclept Clyde, no really, has been a fixture of Winchendon, Massachusetts since I were nobbut a wee lad. The original was getting kinda weathered, so rather than lose that singular attraction, the town fathers had a new one built, the spitting image of the original, which still exists in storage, somewhere.

Now I've been driving past that attraction for 25 years now, it's on the way to the Homeland of Vermont/New Hampshire. I hope I'll be seeing it for a few years to come.

We shall see.

Damn, that's all I've got? Yup, didn't sleep well this week, allergies are acting up, got a low grade sinus thing going on as well.

So sorry folks, short rations today. Anyone care to ID those two guns in the opening photo?

Anyone?

Bueller?

How the Week Goes ...

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I cannot begin to describe the dislike I have for being on my own with The Missus Herself out in California. I like having somebody around to talk with, or not talk with, as the mood strikes either of us. With no more felines on station, I don't even have that going for me.

I know, I know, I could get another cat or two, were it something not absolutely banned by my better half. Her reasoning is sound, it's tough to lose them and she'd rather spare herself having to go through that again. Together we've weathered the loss of four of our feline companions. While the first was particularly rough, as Tiger was so young, it did not get easier.

At my age I view it as similar to what would I do if, heaven forbid, something were to happen to The Missus Herself? I would not remarry, nothing could replace her. Absolutely nothing.

We had our last cat, Anya, for nearly twenty years. We got to know each other's idiosyncrasies, moods, likes and dislikes, and all manner of things. Some have mentioned adopting a senior cat, a feline who perhaps lost his/her humans and is stuck at the shelter. As much as the idea appeals to me, The Missus Herself has said, in no uncertain terms, "No more."

So yeah, it gets lonely at Chez Sarge, especially as the days grow short and the temperature begins to venture into those numbers which are somewhat uncomfortable. While it ain't cold yet, the late nights and early mornings are a bit brisk. I'm not ready for that, not quite yet.

But, she returns next week and all (hopefully) will be well.

I have grandchildren, eight in fact. They range in age from twenty-two months old to sixteen years old. Three boys, five girls, and yes, the granddaughters have me wrapped around their little fingers, they know grandpa is a sucker for a cute smile.

I get to talk with my grandson Roberto a lot. His Mom, The Nuke, likes to stay in touch and her boys like seeing and talking to their grandparents. Grandson Finnegan, the youngest of the grandsons (in fact the youngest of them all), is just starting to talk. So while he will chatter away, he's not really communicating yet. That is, when Grandpa tries to employ his subtle wit, Finnegan will just stare at me.

Hhmm, come to think of it, I get that from a lot of people, not just Finnegan.

Anyhoo, Roberto loves to roughhouse. If I'm not paying attention, he will try a flying body block on me, knocking me ass over teakettle if I'm not prepared for it. Of course, he finds that hysterical. As do I, as long as the fall wasn't too painful. (I am getting up there ya know.)

Now thing is, Roberto has two sets of grandparents, Tuttle's dad apparently is not a big fan of being tackled, abused, or beaten on by his four year old grandson. Something I "enjoy," to a certain extent. So guess who has to make up for that when he visits?

Yup, Your Humble Scribe. Not that I mind, much. But visits to Maryland are starting to remind me of my very brief involvement in college football ...

I went out for the team as a walk-on, practices were rather fun until we had tackling drill. I was a rather smallish linebacker. More of a speed bump really.

The running back was a rather big fellow, bit bigger than me as a matter of fact. When the coach blew his whistle, the big fella started running at me. My brain registered the size disparity and I realized that my chances of bringing him down with a standard tackle were rather akin to trying to stop a rhinoceros with a .22 short round.

But if you hit them in just the right place ...

I kinda threw myself at his feet, figured I'd get tangled up in his wheels, so to speak, and at least make him stumble.

Well, I managed to hit the rhino just right, he went down in a heap. He popped up and said, "Nice tackle!"

I sort of groaned, nodded, and hobbled off to the locker room to turn in my equipment.

Visits to Roberto's house can be kinda like that, leaving me bruised and battered. Fortunately, his parents will get him to stop beating me up from time to time. Allows me to recover a bit before heading back into the lists.

But man, do I love wrestling with my grandsons. Now that there are two of 'em down in Maryland, I think I need to start getting sneakier! Soon they will be able to coordinate their attacks (or be-tacks as Roberto calls them) and I won't stand a chance.

But it's better'n being alone, innit?

Not Feeling It ...

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Just don't feel like being creative today. Suffered through an annoying stomach bug over the weekend, a short one mind you as I had to work Friday last, and Monday was, well, it was Monday, wasn't it?

I may have kicked off The Revolution series a bit early, thought I was ready, turns out I'm not. I really need to reread John Galvin's The Minute Men: The First Fight: Myths and Realities of the American Revolution before I get deeper into the events of 1768 up to 1775. Thought I had that still in local memory, turns out it isn't.

I might even read David Hackett Fischer's Paul Revere's Ride before I continue. I'm just not in the right frame of mind to really go crazy with this story yet. But I have sketched out a few characters to begin with. So I've got that going for me.

Ah well, enough of that ...

Something that often surprises me is the amount of hatred I see for President Abraham Lincoln out and about the world wide web. Tuna left a link to a YouTube video on Sunday which I only watched part way before turning it off in disgust.

Lot of hatred for Old Abe in that video. I get the fact that the man did a lot of things that a lot of people back then (and now) didn't (don't) like. Now the way I see it, he saw his job as preserving the Union. He did that job. Did he do it well? As I see it, the Nation is still a going concern although there are a great many (some holding office in DC) who would like to tear the place down. So in that light, he did his job and he did it well.

It was the aftermath that didn't go so well and you can't blame Abe for that. After all, he was assassinated just six days after Lee's surrender at Appomattox. So Reconstruction wasn't his fault, any number of malodorous politicians can take "credit" for that fiasco.

Lincoln wanted to "let 'em up easy," he knew that in order for the United States to recover in all its parts that the North couldn't be lording it over the South. Which is exactly what happened. The effects of which can still be seen and felt 159 years after Lincoln's death.

So why such hatred for the man?

Enlighten me. (Remember, be nice and have your sources available for examination.)

I Got Nothing ...

My head is empty, without thought, without ideas, without content ...

A void ...

It feels like what it must have been like before Creation occurred.

The end of the year approaches, time off looms upon the horizon, much needed time off I might add.

I'm tired of politics, tired of war, tired of people bitching about shit on Facebook, just plain tired.

Today is the end of the last long week of my career. I have been working what's called a 9/80 schedule for the better part of a decade. Nine hours on Monday through Thursday, then eight hours every other Friday. Basically you work nine days for a total of 80 hours, hence the "9/80" designation. The more traditional forty hour week is referred to (at least where I work) as 5/40.

Beginning in 2023 I have elected to become a "part-timer," or, as I like to think of it, "semi-retired." I will no longer work Fridays, unless I want to or need to make up time. I have elected to work 36 hours a week, four 9-hour days, Monday through Thursday. Kinda like 9/80 but without the 9, or the 80,

A 36 hour work week will be a ten percent cut in pay, which will still mean more filthy lucre in my pocket than if I out and out retired. Though on paper it is also a ten percent cut in Paid Time Off (a topic I was going to write about but quickly got sick of) from 200 hours a year to 180 hours per year. (200 / 10 = 20, 200 - 20 = 180. Didn't want to make you do the math in your head.) Now I've always looked at that 200 hours in terms of how many days off does that give me?

If you're working a 9/80 schedule, a week off might be 44 hours of PTO needed, or 36, depending on which of your two weeks you want to take off. But in real terms I always viewed that 200 hours as being the rough equivalent of 25 working days off, or five weeks, if you will.

Now do the math for 180 hours of PTO based on a nine-hour day. That's the equivalent of 20 days. "Wait, what? Sarge, you're losing an entire week off!"

Nope, because my weeks are now four days long, 20 / 4 = 5. Yup, I still get the rough equivalent of five weeks off. Plus I don't have to work Friday, ever, unless I want to.

I envision 2023 being a more relaxed year compared to those in the past.

Which probably means World War III will kick off, or Xiden finally hands the keys to the Red Chinese. On the bright side, I'll have more time to learn the language of our new overlords ...

And I'm an optimist.

Maybe I'll be inspired to write something better for Saturday. Who knows?

Be seeing you.

How My Week is Going ...

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I was working on the next installment in the series when I completely ran out of gas ...

The Missus Herself is temporarily deployed to The Nuke's house, but she's back today ...

In the middle of the night ...

Of course ...

On the bright side I get to help clean the pond!

Oh. Wait.

That's work.

I gave the Muse the rest of the day off, even she was tired of my "getting too old for this" schtick.

I'll be back ...

I need a nap.

(Source)

Uh, sure, that'll work.

Until next time ...

April, the Longest Month (Or so it feels ...)

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Actually, I did sign up for this.

April, longest month, ever.

So far it feels like it's about 90 days in, and it ain't finished, not hardly.

The Missus Herself went out to California back in early March, she returned after three weeks. It wasn't even a week before I was flying out to California myself. I think I was out there for ten years.

What?

Thirteen days?

Preposterous, lemme check my calendar ...

Well damn, so it was.

Flew back to Little Rhody last Saturday, slept fully twelve hours on Easter Sunday. I awakened to realize that I had no idea where I was, what day it was, or even what time it might have been.

Took Monday off to go see an eye surgeon (yes, surgical things might be on the horizon). Took Tuesday off, just because I could, then returned to work on Wednesday.

I worked Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday, Wednesday, then Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday, Thursday ... (You get the picture.)

Lawn looks like crap, I think there are gazelles out there, so I called my lawn guys.

"Uh, sorry, left you a message, damn, wrong number. Sorry Sarge but our truck broke, we can't afford to buy a new one, or even a used one (gee, thanks Brandon) so we're out of the lawn care business."

Well yes, that sucked.

In the market for a new lawn team, they're available for double what I was paying before. Again, let's go Brandon.

So either I cut it myself ...

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.. or I suck it up and pay the extra shekels. Yes, that's going to hurt.

(For those who might be wondering, I despise yard work, in all its many forms, the smell of fresh cut grass, while not really bad, makes me want to hurl. Too many lawns mowed as an impressionable young lad made me "dislike" the cutting of the grass.)

Then I had to fill out the expense report from Hell. The hotel sent me a weird looking receipt which didn't quite add up, then our expense report software had two entries for hotel charges. That alone took me over an hour to decipher. What did they use, an Enigma machine to do this crap?

Anyhoo, got it done, then sat down to write another gripping tale of World War II, which, I must confess, not many of you seem to read.

Sigh ...

I doth perhaps protest too much, what I'm writing ain't exactly Tom Clancy.

So you get this post, more whinging on my part, more suffering through it on your part.

Oh well, I have Friday off (when I'm not interviewing prospective lawn care specialists), perhaps my Muse will return to the fold and stop meandering off on her own.

One can only hope.

Again, sigh ...