hectic week

This past week has been very hectic and lots of things have been happening - so much, in fact, that I've been putting off my blog posts to make room for other, more boring things, such as cleaning the house and being annoyed at my neighbors.

On Monday we got a notice that our neighbors had complained about the 'constant barking' from our apartment, which pissed me off to no end for several reasons:

Firstly, because we are aware of the fact that Abby barks when we are gone, and, if we can't take her with us, crate her when we're out - in the center room which is furthest from all the neighbors, in a crate covered with wool blankets where she has toys to play with and food to chew on. We even leave the television on for her, which doesn't seem to make much difference.

Secondly, because this supposedly 'constant' barking only takes place when we're not home - which is very much limited to Saturday evenings and Sunday afternoons. That is, if we're going somewhere we can't take her to - she's so much fun to take along because she gets excited about riding in the car, even if we're just going to the store, and she doesn't mind waiting in the car either. Regardless, I'm of the firm belief that neighbors have no right to complain about something that happens once a week, and that stops at a reasonable hour. And particularly, that they shouldn't be calling the landlord without trying to resolve the problem first with their neighbors.

I later found out that the complaint was called in by our next-door neighbor. The same neighbor who has been telling me to my face for the past three weeks that the barking doesn't bother her, and that we don't need to crate her or put a no-bark collar on her because she's just doing her job and protecting the house. They even told me they were looking for a good dog like her and want to get one just as soon as the baby is a little older.

If there's one thing I cannot stand it is when people are two-faced and tell me lies to my face, then complain about me behind my back. I think that is very low, and disgusting, and as far as I'm concerned, I want absolutely nothing to do with that woman. I thought she was nice when they moved in, but the more I see and hear of her, the more I am convinced that we're better off not associating with that sort of person.

On Thursday, Trueman finally managed to put someone into the Army again and because of that, he was able to get off work a little early on Friday for us to go shooting. As usual, it was pretty fun and I shot the last of my Mauser ammo. I haven't fired it in some time, but my shooting apparently hasn't suffered because of it. I'm really beginning to enjoy pistol shooting more than rifle shooting, though, which probably has to do with the fact that I'm learning all those new things and that I really can't do them with a rifle.

One thing that scared me about the range was the couple on the next lane. We see them at the range very often, they shoot frequently - maybe more frequently than we do - and they seem to really get into it. Both have nice leather belts with pistol and magazine holsters that they use. Both have very nice pistols, range bags, and they even reload their own ammunition. These people very obviously love shooting.

The problem is that they're not very good at it, which is surprising considering the amount of time they spend practicing. I don't consider myself a good shot by any means, but when I can hold a better group doing the Sykes-Fairbairn method with no sights, than they can in a perfect stance, using their sights and taking their time, there's something to be said for that.

trip to occoquan

Sunday a week ago, Trueman, Abby and I drove to the little town of Occoquan, which isn't very far from where we live. It's a lovely historic town that has been around since the Doeg Indians lived on the land prior to the arrival of settlers from Europe. As a matter of fact, the word Occoquan is a Doeg Indian word meaning, "at the end of the water", which is very fitting since the town is located at the end of the river.

The main street of Occoquan consists mainly of old houses, most of which were built between 1736 and the late Nineteenth Century. At one point the town was home to a large mill, which burnt down in a fire in 1924, with the exception of the miller's office, which is now the Mill House Museum. You can read a little more about the town's history online at this link, and see a map of the old town here.

We had a very good time during our visit - but of course, me being me, I didn't remember to bring the camera until after we arrived in Occoquan, and by then it was too late! Abby enjoyed sniffing all the strange new people, and she was positively thrilled when we took her to the little shopping center at the end of the road. This was more recently built but it was designed to fit the style of the old homes in order to blend in with the historic town. It has some neat shops in it - one store selling glaswares, another with Irish wool clothing, and upstairs, a bakery that specializes in natural, home-made dog treats. They're expensive, but it's one of the few stores that allow animals and the lady was giving Abby free dog treats!

Because we didn't get any photos that day, Trueman and I went back to Occoquan this past Saturday evening to get some nice photos. We didn't leave until it was fairly late in the afternoon and the sun was just going down. While we were on our way there, we ran across this cool 1960's Airstream RV by the side of the road.

We found out that the Airstream belongs to the Beat Museum on Wheels, which is making its way from Monterey, California, all across the United States to teach kids at high schools and colleges about Jack Kerouac and the Beat Generation. Unfortunately they were in a hurry to grab dinner and head on to Richmond, VA for their next presentation.

By the time we got to Occoquan and had parked the car, the light was starting to fade fast, and I knew I probably wouldn't get a whole lot of really good photos - but better bad ones than none at all, I figured. We first stopped in at a small tea shop or some tea, where we just happened to meet Mike Johnson, country music's number one black yodeler (yes, Americans yodel - cowboys do, anyway) and inductee to the Old-Time Country Music Hall of Fame. It turned out that Mike had served in the Navy and on the same ship than Trueman's dad during the Vietnam War, and he gave us one of his CDs and signed it to Trueman's dad. You don't meet people like that very often.


This is the old town hall of Occoquan, which is just as small as it looks. The pixels on the front step are me and Abby - I removed us since I don't want to show my photo on my blog. The town hall is also home to Occoquan's one and only law enforcement professional, the Sheriff, who only works during the normal work day. After hours, Occoquan is under the control of the county police force. I thought that was funny, especially since the sheriff's office is located in the basement of the town hall.


The home on 416 Mill Street, the very end of the street before one reaches the water treatment plant, is my favorite building in Occoquan because of it's very unusual architecture. The building now holds a wine shop in the bottom floor, and the owners' living space in the upper stories. The timbers used in the construction, as well as the large, beveled window on the bottom story came originally from old ships.

Once you reach the end of Mill Street, a foot bridge leads across the Occoquan River, and we took Abby across to allow her to run a little off-leash (her first time since we've had her - and yes, she came back), and also to see the little waterfall on the opposite side. While crossing the bridge, I took this lovely photo of the sunset above the Occoquan River.

lack of updates

I've gotten a couple of emails from people wondering why I haven't been updating. My apologies - I haven't fallen off the earth, I haven't been sick, or anything like that. I've just been fairly busy this week and too lazy to write.

Here's an article that Trueman sent to me today, which just pisses me off to no end.

I may not agree with this man's opinion - however, he has a right to think what he wants. If he says on an Internet forum, "I don't think 6 million Jews died in the Holocaust", then that is his opinion. I hardly think that this is a crime. Even putting it on the Internet isn't a crime - at least not in most countries.

But apparently, the German government can now go after people living outside of Germany who are not bound by German laws and imprison them. What the hell? Makes me very happy not to be living in Europe.

Belgian revisionist to be extradited to Germany

A Dutch court on Tuesday authorised the extradition to Germany of a Belgian man who faces charges of racism and xenophobia and publicly expressing doubts about the Holocaust.

Siegfried Verbeke was arrested at Amsterdam's Schiphol airport on August 5 at the request of German authorities, who had issued one month earlier an international arrest warrant after Verbeke expressed doubts on an Internet site about the genocide of six million Jews during WWII. Verbeke faces two charges; one of racism and xenophobia and a second of spreading his revisionist opinions on the Internet, which constitutes a "computer crime" in Germany.

An Amsterdam court on Tuesday authorised Verbeke's extradition on the first charge after the German authorities failed to provide the court with a copy of the law regarding the computer crime.

A co-founder of the extreme-right Vlaams Blok party (now called Vlaams Belang), in the Flemish-speaking part of Belgium, Verbeke has run for more than 25 years the Antwerp-based Free Historical Research organisation, active in spreading books and leaflets negating the Holocaust. Prior to this, he led a paramilitary neo-nazi organization, called "Vlaamse Militanten Orde" (or Flemish Militant Order).

Convicted in Belgium in 2003, together with his brother Herbert, by an Antwerp court for Holocaust denial and racism, an appeal court toughened a previous sentence and condemned Verbeke to one year imprisonment. His civil and political rights were withdrawn for a 10-year period. The Belgian authorities refused the extradition of Verbeke to Germany.

The court stressed the Verbeke's "contempt towards the enormous suffering provoked by the Nazi crimes which he tries to minimize in a pseudo-scientific way." The man also faced similar charges in the Netherlands for having questioned the veracity of the Anne Frank memories book. However, proceedings were suspended by the Dutch Justice Minister Piet Hein Donner on the condition that Verbeke faced the charges in Germany.

Verbeke will be transferred to a German jail within ten days.

how many dogs

How many dogs does it take to change a lightbulb?

Golden Retriever: The sun is shining, the day is young, we've got our whole lives ahead of us, and you're inside worrying about a stupid burned out bulb?

Border Collie: Just one. And then I'll replace any wiring that's not up to code.

Dachshund: You know I can't reach that stupid lamp!

Rottweiler: Make me.

Boxer: Who cares? I can still play with my squeaky toys in the dark.

Lab: Oh, me, me!!!!! Pleeeeeeeeeze let me change the light bulb! Can I? Can I? Huh? Huh? Huh? ! Can I? Pleeeeeeeeeze, please, please, please!

German Shepherd: I'll change it as soon as I've led these people from the dark, check to make sure I haven't missed any, and make just one more perimeter patrol to see that no one has tried to take advantage of the situation.

Jack Russell Terrier: I'll just pop it in while I'm bouncing off the walls and furniture.

Old English Sheep Dog: Light bulb? I'm sorry, but I don't see a light bulb!

Cocker Spaniel: Why change it? I can still pee on the carpet in the dark.

Chihuahua: Yo quiero Taco Bulb.

Greyhound: It isn't moving. Who cares?

Australian Shepherd: First, I'll put all the light bulbs in a little circle...

Poodle: I'll just blow in the Border Collie's ear and he'll do it. By the time he finishes rewiring the house, my nails will be dry.

How many cats does it take to change a light bulb?

The Cat's Answer: Cats do not change light bulbs. People change light bulbs. So, the real question is: "How long will it be before I can expect some light, some dinner, and a massage?"

growl

I snapped this picture of Abby yesterday, and I would love to put it into a little frame, and add the words "Beware of Dog" to it to hang it from the front door. I think that would do well keeping people away - people selling things, for example. She looks so mean. *giggle* She is actually yawning, though, not snarling.

People in our neighborhood have begun asking me whether Abby is a police dog or not. The ones that ask me this question are generally the ones who look like they're up to something that they shouldn't be doing in the first place, and ironically, they are also the ones she generally barks at. I like to think that Abby is very small and the reason that she barks at them is that she knows they're up to no good.

Lately I've taken to answer that question with, "Nope. We had her tested once to see if she would be good as a police dog, but during the bite work, she just wouldn't release. We had to use a cattle prod to get her off the guy." *snicker* I'm evil. But I'd rather have them think that she is vicious and leave her alone than otherwise.

afghan adventures

Afghanistan, Oct. 21, 2005 - The airdrop of supplies in the morning had fallen far from the mark, leaving water bottles and boxes of food strewn for hundreds of yards across the mountain. The paratroopers had spent the afternoon carrying box after box down from the ridgeline, but several large loads still needed to be transported. With daylight rapidly disappearing, the company seemed to have run out of options.

Luckily, that is when "donkey man" showed up.

Army Spc. Daniel Boyle spotted the old man leading a team of donkeys up a hill in the distance. With a flash of inspiration, Boyle realized the donkeys might be the solution to the unit's transportation problem, on this mission earlier in October. He beckoned the man over and began to negotiate. They quickly reached an agreement, and before long, each donkey was loaded up with an enormous bundle of supplies and ready to move out.

Army Staff Sgt. Matthew Sheppard mounted the lead donkey. He slung his weapon on his back and gave a gentle jab with his heels to spur the animal forward. As the donkey started trotting off, a sudden thought occurred to Sheppard. "Hey, how do I make it stop?" he hollered. But by that time the unlikely convoy was already on the move.

As the incident with the donkeys shows, "adapt and overcome" was the strategy on display when paratroopers from Company A, 1st Battalion, 325th Airborne Infantry Regiment, and counterparts from the Afghan National Army conducted a five-day operation in Afghanistan's Mianashin region, north of Kandahar, in early October. The operation resulted in the detention of three Taliban leaders and the destruction of two enemy safe houses.

"On a mission like that, you never know what situation you're going to find yourself in. That's why we just try to stay flexible and make the most out of whatever breaks we get," said Capt. Michael Shaw, Company A commander.

The operation began with a pre-dawn air assault into the town of Lwar Kowndalan Oct. 1. Two Chinook helicopters, with an Apache gunship for support, delivered the paratroopers in a clearing just outside the village. The paratroopers flung themselves out of the Chinooks into a wall of dirt and dust kicked up by the propeller blades. The helicopters took off seconds later. As the dust settled, the paratroopers could see they had landed in a graveyard.

They moved out quickly and encircled the town by squads. Their objective was to capture several high-ranking Taliban operatives known to live in the village. With the Afghan soldiers leading the way, the troops searched several houses and in no time had taken three enemy fighters captive. The soldiers were also on the lookout for a safe house used by Taliban forces in the area. After several hours, Shaw decided to set up a patrol base from which to continue the search. He chose a high-walled, fortress-like compound surrounded by orchards. Ironically, soon after occupying the building, the paratroopers realized it was actually the safe house they were looking for.

The next day, after loading the three detained enemy fighters onto a Chinook for transport to a secure location, the company moved out on a punishing hike through the mountains to the town of Gardeneh. The sun beat down mercilessly as they trudged along, sliding on the shale-covered hillsides and getting snagged in tangled thorn thickets. It was only a two-mile hike, but with the heat and the altitude, it felt more like 20.

The village lay on top of a hill and at the foot of a cluster of immense boulders. A search of the homes failed to turn up any evidence of Taliban presence, but one old man informed the paratroopers that approximately 50 Taliban fighters had recently moved through the area. Shaw had his men set up an observation point at the old man's house in hopes that the enemy might pass by again that night. While they waited for night to fall, another problem presented itself: The paratroopers were almost entirely out of food and water. They would have to live off the land. They paid the old man to butcher one of his goats and drank water from his well after purifying it with iodine tablets.

Late that night they sat around the fire eating broiled goat meat with their hands and drinking sweet Chai tea. "What part is this?" asked one paratrooper warily as he fished a hunk of goat meat out of the pot. "Don't ask. Just eat," someone answered.

Later, when most of his men were in their sleeping bags or on guard, Shaw went to sit by the old man's side to thank him for the hospitality. Knowing the Taliban would harm the old man if they knew he had helped U.S. forces, Shaw asked the man for a strange favor. "I want you to lie to them. Don't tell them you helped us," he said.

In the morning the company hiked several miles further out to search another compound, then circled back and made the journey all the way back to their base in Lwar Kowndalan to await resupply. From the roof of their compound, the paratroopers saw the C-130 fly over, and crates of food and water attached to green parachutes came tumbling out of the plane's hold. Sheppard's squad was dispatched to retrieve the supplies. Hours later, he rode back into the compound on the back of a donkey, leading the rest of his improvised convoy behind him. "Cool! War donkeys!" exclaimed Pvt. Adam Richter.

The re-supply had also included humanitarian aid supplies for the local people. All afternoon and into the evening the villagers filed into the compound one by one to receive rice, beans, sugar, tools, radios, and other supplies. The paratroopers did their best to distribute the material according to need, but everyone seemed to be equally needy.

"Ask him how many people are in his family," 1st Lt. Sean McDonough, the company's executive officer, told his interpreter as one boy approached to receive his portion of the supplies. "He says he has five brothers and five sisters," the interpreter said. "Oh brother," sighed McDonough.

Operations continued the next day as the platoon discovered another abandoned safe house and several caves that had been used as shelters or staging points for ambushes. Using mortar fire, M136 anti-tank missiles, and hand grenades, the paratroopers destroyed them all.

Company A was due to be "exfiltrated" by Chinook helicopters just after sunrise Oct. 5. But before they could leave, there was one last piece of unfinished business -- the compound they had been living in. Rather than leave it intact for the Taliban to use, Shaw gave the order to destroy the building and the remaining supplies in it with claymore mines.

Staff Sgt. Richard Eldridge emplaced the mines, setting one inside a room in which someone had scrawled some fitting graffiti: "Up Yours Taliban," it read. When everything was set, Eldridge crouched down just outside the gates of the compound and detonated the mines. There was a tremendous blast and then a cloud of smoke, and dust came drifting out of the gates. Poking his head inside, Eldridge saw that the explosion had split the main building straight down the middle. The compound's days as a safe haven for Taliban fighters were over.

The paratroopers moved out to the pickup zone. Soon they heard the "WHUPWHUPWHUP" of the incoming Chinook helicopters, and less than 45 minutes later they were back at Kandahar Airfield, looking forward to a well-earned day of hot chow, hot showers, and sleep on comfortable mattresses. And no more donkeys.

mil blogs

Sometimes I feel like I'm way behind the power curve on pretty much anything. Case in point would be that I only log into the Army's website, AKO, when I have trouble with my password in my pop mail, to see whether it's a site-wide problem or an email-only problem. I really ought to go there more often and read the stuff I'm subscribed to as well as the announcements. And I don't mean the lame announcements like the ad for Military Idol (the armed forces version of American Idol). I mean the good stuff, like the mandatory OPSEC training link.

I scuttled over to that one. Why does it require you to re-enter your password? It's part of AKO, isn't it? Geez. These passwords will be the death of me one day, I swear. "Pick a new password. It must be at least x spaces long and include every damn letter, number, and symbol on your keyboard." How do they expect people to remember them?

Anyway, I'm getting off topic.

I clicked the OPSEC tool kit link and found it to be mostly about the one subject that all of us talk about on our blogs - mil blogs and OPSEC as it relates to them. I'm just glad that I never write anything that could have me end up in their lists, because that would likely be a very bad thing indeed. Armor Geddon's blog is actually listed as the very top, as a site that gives away critical information through his video clips, and his entries (with examples - but I bet those cited are no longer on his site).

Black Five gets a mention for the video of an IED exploding. I'm a little torn here, because, seriously, a video of an IED exploding? All the insurgents have to do to see that is watch CNN. I don't see how a blog would make a difference in that respect. Just me, though.

People with positive OPSEC habits were also named, for a change. It's nice to hear something other than "you people are doing it wrong, shut down your blogs!" They were Major K., A Female Soldier, and Boots in Baghdad. Linked so you can go check them out. Because you should.

There's some other neat stuff in the OPSEC section, such as Power Point presentations and such. Check them out, too, if you can get on AKO. My favorite was OPSEC in the Blogosphere. Oy. They're gettin' hip with the lingo, now. And honestly, I just want to be a VADer. VAD being the Vulnerability Assessment Detachment which made those pretty, pretty slide shows. But how cool would it be to be a VADer. That's possibly the best acronym ever.

visit to landstuhl

Something different than mainstream press.

LANDSTUHL, Germany, Oct. 19, 2005 - A group of civilians on a worldwide tour to see the military works took time out today to thank young troops who have been injured in Iraq. Participants in the Joint Civilian Orientation Conference visited Landstuhl Regional Medical Center here and donated thousands of phone cards and dozens of DVDs and CDs to patients who had recently returned from Iraq. The phone cards totaled more than 25,000 minutes.

Some JCOC members visited several troops in the orthopedic medical surgical ward to hand deliver the gifts. They said they were very impressed with the young servicemembers. "They have such good spirits," said Kevin Bernzott, whose company, Bernzott Capital Advisors, donated about 2,000 phone cards to the troops. "Both of the ones that I talked to are great young Americans. If we ever lose the ability to recruit kids like that, the game's over; we lost."

Bernzott visited with Marine Sgt. Ray Mortimer and Army Sgt. Emmanuel Espinoza. Mortimer was on his third deployment with the 3rd Battalion, 6th Marines, in Iraq when he was wounded by mortar fire. He is being treated for shrapnel wounds to the inner thigh. Espinoza was with Company B, 3rd Battalion, 20th Field Artillery, from Fort Campbell, Ky., when he was wounded in a roadside-bomb attack. He said he had just gone through his third surgery and planned to return to the U.S. soon.

Both Mortimer and Espinoza said they were thankful for the phone cards and for the visit.

Bill Beesting, assistant dean of Florida International University in Miami, said that he was worried the visit would be hard for him to deal with, but the upbeat attitude of the soldier he visited helped him. "Because he was in such good spirits, I kept in good spirits too," he said. Beesting added that the importance of this visit wasn't really the material gifts to the troops. "I don't know if it's the gifts so much as showing that we do care about them," he said. "I think we could've given them anything and they would've been just as happy."

The phone cards, CDs and DVDs will be distributed throughout four medical surgical units in the hospital. Some DVDs were also given to the Fisher House here. Family members and loved ones visiting wounded servicemembers stay at Fisher Houses around the world.

black & white

I've had the same roll of film in my camera for quite some time and finished it up recently at a recruiting event. A lot of the photos turned out nicely, and I thought it would be something different if I shared a bit of my photography on my blog. Click the photos to see them at full size.

These two girls live in our neighborhood. They are Marine Corps brats and were outside playing with their black Lab puppy. They were more than happy to pose for a photo together. I also got a photo with the puppy, but it turned out blurry. I promised one of the girls' dads to give him a copy when I had them developed, but I lost his email address and while I know the building they live in, I don't know what their apartment number is. :(

This one was taken outside the recruiting station during a recruiting event some time ago. I have no idea who these people are, they don't work at Trueman's station, but this is kind of a nice photo, so I figured I'd share it. No name tags shown. See... I am careful about those things.

usarec update

Some of you may remember the trouble Truenman has been having with some of his chain of command. I don't think I ever posted an update about that, so here it is -

Since all the trouble happened, the First Sergeant in question was sent to another chain of command. SFC Snorkle, who added to the problem, was given an instructor slot at recruiter school. And they are looking at Trueman's current station commander to replace the First Sergeant.

I guess it worked out alright.

sykes & fairbairn

As my frequent readers already know, I enjoy going to the range and putting holes into paper with either my pistol or rifle. Which is nice and great, but if you're going to own a pistol, you should be ready to use it in self-defense should you ever have to. And in a situation like that, you definitely won't get the chance to square up your stance, or aim using the sights - particularly since the average engagement range in pistol self-defense is somewhere between ten and twenty feet.

Trueman suggested that, if I wanted to seriously learn combat pistolcraft, I should start with a little bit of history and pick up Sykes' and Fairbairn's book, "Shooting to Live", which was a revolutionary book in the combat and defense use of pistols when it was written, and it still is today. I would highly recommend this book to anyone.

To give a little background.

Captains Fairbairn and Sykes were in charge of the Shanghai Municipal Police in the 1920s and 1930s, and during that time period, Shanghai was one of the most violent places in the world - gang wars, murder, rape, and general violence and mayhem were the order of the day. The book, "Shooting to Live" is based on their twenty-something year experiences in Shanghai, and their methods were later used with the British Special Operations Executive in World War II, and then adapted for use with the Office of Strategic Services by Colonel Rex Applegate. Colonel Applegate later went on to write his own book, "Kill or Get Killed" (he also wrote other good books that are worth reading, particularly on unarmed and knife combat).

Anyway.

When I first picked up the book, I didn't think I would see eye-to-eye with the Captains, because their very first chapter starts out to explain that by pistol they mean any one-hand gun. Just from personal experience, I can think of a great number of pistols that I would never even attempt to fire one-handed, and the thought of shooting my M9 one handed left me a little uneasy as well (though it turned out to be less difficult than I thought).

Aside from my initial reaction to the first chapter, I liked what they have to say. Obviously, what they're saying is based on years of personal experience, which is more than most manuals and their writers can claim these days. And secondly, what they're saying makes sense. Their whole combat shooting system is based on speed and instinctive aim. For most shooters, the instinctive aim bit is going to be the harder of the two, but it can be done, and it turned out to be not quite as hard as it sounds.

The target on the left here, which is approximately 11 inches by 25 inches in size, shows my shot pattern at about fifteen feet. All rounds were fired using only instinctive aim - bringing the pistol up to about eye level from the preliminary ready position, and firing when the pistol was surrounded by the target, for lack of a better description.

I'd never done this before, of course. I was a little nervous about it because I'd definitely never done it with my M9. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get a good grip on my pistol when shooting it one-handed because I have very small hands and the grips on the M9 are fairly beefy. But I did okay. (Sykes and Fairbairn had their recruits start out on 8 x 8 targets with a man-shaped silhouette in the center, at four yards' distance. I still think even a blind man could hit that.)

As I get further into this and have more practice, I'll be learning to shoot from different positions, such as the "three-quarter hip" and "half-hip" positions, where I won't bring the pistol up to eye level. I expect those to be some pretty entertaining days at the range. Well, for those watching me, anyway.

The Captains have some good advice on weapons safety as well - they don't like safety devices. "We have an inveterate dislike of the profusion of safety devices with which all automatics are regularly equipped. We believe them to be the cause of more accidents than anything else. (...) It is better, we think, to make the pistol permanently "unsafe" and then to devise such methods of handling it that there will be no accidents." (Incidentally, in the twenty years they served with Shanghai police, there wasn't a single instance of injury or death due to accident. Which says something for their training, if you ask me.)

And lastly, some advice on private gun ownership from the Captains that holds very true - "We are often asked what is the best weapon to have in your house for purely protective purposes. Most of the people who make this enquiry know little of fire-arms and say so quite frankly. It usually happens, too, that they have neither the intention nor the opportunity to make themselves efficient with any kind of one-hand gun. If they are of this type, we are convinced that they would be better off with a good watch-dog, or even a police-whistle.

"There are, however, many men whose knowledge of fire-arms is limited to the shot-gun, in the use of which they are both proficient and reliable. If this type of man insists on possessing some kind of weapon "to keep in the house" we would recommend him to acquire a "sawn-off" shot gun, with external hammers of the re-bounding type and barrels of about 18 inches in length. The ease with which it can be manipulated, the accuracy with which it can be aimed, either from the shoulder or the hip, and the spread of the shot charge combine to make it a much safer and more efficient weapon than any kind of one-hand gun in the use of which he is not proficient."

Bottom line - if you don't want to spend the time to learn how to use a handgun properly and safely, don't buy one for self-defense because it will be absolutely useless. Advice that a lot of American gun-owners who buy them purely for "self defense" and never get any practice with them, should heed.

vicious dog

As you can tell, Abby is such a vicious attack dog. *grins* Sharing the bed with Trueman and Murphy (Murphy is the fuzzy one).

bad dog

Abby is turning out to be a wonderful dog to have around the house. She lets me sleep in when I want to, she doesn't feel the need to bother me all the time to play with her, and she leaves the cats alone. She's also been acting as a four-legged, furry exercise machine for me, and I'm enjoying the additional sports and my time out with her - the weather's perfect for it right now!

On Saturday, Abby visited the vet. Being the mean, vicious attack dog that she is, she promptly peed on herself when the thermometer went up her behind. She wasn't very thrilled about the rabies shot, either, but took it generally well. By well I mean, of course, that she didn't bite the vet or even growl at her.

She is very badly behaved around other dogs, though. Many German Shepherds, especially those who weren't raised with a lot of other dogs for socialization, tend to be very protective of their humans, and also tend to want to be in charge of other dogs. In Abby's case, it's mostly when other dogs get excited, that she gets mean - barking and snarling. Ironically, when the other dog, such as the upstair's neighbors' Lab puppies, just sort of toddles up to her, she doesn't mind. She may even lick them. But get an excited dog - and it's all over.

My solution to the problem is, of course, training. I'm training her to focus on me by means of making her sit-stay when a dog is across the street, so that she won't focus on the other dog. Beyond that, I'm keeping my eyes open and avoiding large dogs when I'm out on walks.

People, on the other hand, she doesn't mind at all. While she certainly barks at some, it seems that this is mostly caused by the fact that she gets startled by people. The first time she met the mail man, he'd walked out from behind his car. I think this caught her by surprise. Another time, two guys were sitting in the trunk of their SUV with the trunk being open, and she was snarling and lunging at them. I'll give her that one as good judgement because on our way back from the walk, we encountered five cop cars in the street and those two guys, along with some other people, were being arrested for possession of drugs and an illegal handgun.

It's hard, though - encouraging her to bark at some people (those who deserve it), but not barking at others.

Today I was very proud of her because she met a number of new people and did wonderfully with all of them. First she met two guys throwing out garbage bags full of leaves they'd been raking, which I thought would probably scare Abby. But she sit-stayed and let them come up and pet her.

Later on, we met some even more trying strangers - a group of three young boys who screamed, "DOOOOOGGGGIE!" and ran up to her. I made Abby sit-stay and told the boys that they should never run up to a strange dog because it may get scared and bite them. When they slowed down and approached her slowly, I let them pet her. She was being very nice about it, licking them, but she was a little antsy to get out of there and kept trying to back up behind me.

The one big problem we are still facing is the fact that she barks when we're gone, as my wonderful neighbor keeps pointing out. ("Screw the bitch," says Trueman. I guess he has a point - the woman doesn't like animals, and she should probably mind her own business, anyway.)

We did get a crate for Abby and are now training her to be comfortable in it so that she'll know that, just because she is in there and we are not around, we will not abandon her. I crate her for hour intervals throughout the day, and give her treats when she goes in the crate and when I take her out. This morning she stayed in for four hours without a fuss. I'm sure it'll be a whole night soon. Until then, the crate is in the center room, furthest away from all neighbors, and the only thing you hear in the hallway is what sounds vaguely like a whining puppy.

She'll get there. Maybe I can crate-train the neighbor to keep her from playing loud rap music or making rude comments?

food for thought

I've been watching the "race riot" footage coming out of Toledo, Ohio, and one question begs to be asked - why was the looting, ransacking, and burning of property going on even though the neo-Nazi march was cancelled?

I think this says something about this country.

Firstly, everyone has the right to a protest march, just as long as they have a permit. We may not agree with their purpose or message, but certainly the American Nazi Party has the same right to march than the black supremists or Nation of Islam, or war protesters, or anti-war protesters. For any of those occasions, a permit needs to be issued, and police needs to be ready to deal with counter-demonstrations.

The neo-Nazi "crowd" at this planned event was comprised of a whole two dozen members. That would be twenty-four people, for those who haven't paid attention in school and don't know what a dozen is. They met at the park and then cancelled their march because of the counter-demonstration. They went home.

After they had left, the counter-demonstration turned on police. Would someone explain to me how this works? If they'd honestly gathered there to counter-protest this march by neo-Nazis, having the Nazis leave would have given them what they wanted. They should have either continued to protest peacefully against the presense of any neo-Nazis, or gone home as well. Instead, they chose to attack police, vandalize vehicles and stores, and set fire to a neighborhood bar. (sarcasm) What nice people. (/sarcasm) The fact that a lot of the people who were violent at this were also gang members probably helped things along.

And the final irony? The reason the neo-Nazis chose that neighborhood to protest was that one of the white residents had complained to police about the gang violence taking place there.

The point is - this is one of those stories where you have a really hard time figuring out who the bad guys are. Of course we don't like Nazis. Nobody likes Nazis. But, honestly, they were not the ones throwing rocks at police, vandalizing cars, and setting things on fire. And if it were up to me, I'd rather have a group of neo-Nazis march about with their flags, than a group of people burning and vandalizing other peoples' property. But maybe that's just me.

And, of course, saying that makes me a racist. Pthhh. See if I care.

the fat lady sings

While watching TV and surfing the web at the same time the other day, which is the original meaning of multitasking, I overheard a short report explaining one of the origins of the saying "It's not over until the fat lady sings".

Meet the "fat lady" - Kate Smith. Kate, who was born in Virginia, was a singer who recorded a number of hits prior to World War II but made her most famous records during the war, among them being "The White Cliffs of Dover".

In 1938, Irving Berlin wrote a song for her - God Bless America - which is now widely considered to be the "second national anthem". It was that song that people liked so much, radio stations began playing it every night before closing their program. Hence, "it's not over until the fat lady sings." Although I'm not sure Kate liked being called the fat lady.

tagged

Does anyone here know how you can tell that people maybe aren't reading your blog regularly? Sure... I can - by finding out two days after the fact that you've been tagged. Maybe I need to read the blogs on my reading list a little more carefully at times...

Seven things I want to do before I die:

1. Finish my book about the BDM
2. Get a degree in history
3. Own my own home
4. Have a job that I thoroughly enjoy
5. Have good credit
6. See my neighbors move out
7. Lose 20 lbs.

Seven things I can do:

1. Teach obedience to a dog
2. Design websites
3. Draw / paint
4. Play the guitar
5. Hold a decent shot group with my pistol
6. Fire a .50 AR-15 and enjoy it
7. Put my leg behind my head

Seven things I cannot do:

1. Play the piano
2. Sing (I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket)
3. Fly a helicopter
4. Stand on the points of my toes
5. Speak Russian
6. Do a handstand
7. Chose my neighbors

Seven things I say a lot :

1. "..., so ..."
2. "like"
3. "There were / was / are"
4. "Abby did..."
5. "You need to call DFAS."
6. "Murphy!!!"
7. "I was watching ... on TV..."

Seven things I find attractive in a male:

1. A twisted sense of humor
2. A nice smile
3. A nice smell
4. Intelligence
5. Well dressed (as in, appropriate to the event)
6. Nice abs
7. A tight squeezable butt

Seven celebrity crushes?
(these being past crushes, not present!)

1. Tom Berenger
2. Jeb Stewart Adams
3. Terence Hill
4. Franco Nero
5. Angelina Jolie (not really a crush)
6. Colin Farrell
7.

Seven people who have nothing better to do than to get tagged:

1. Jaeger Stephan
2. Diana Kennedy
3. Recruiter Confessions
4. Jimmy B
5. Adrian T
6. Life on Earth
7. Desert Ramblings

Try as I might, I just couldn't come up with seven celebrity crushes. And the list that's there now is already pretty pathetic. I'm sure half of you are going, "Who are those people?" I'm a child of the 80s, watching bad 70s television - what can I say. And I will not publicly announce that I ever, ever liked David Hasselhoff. The day that name enters a list of "celebrity crushes" will be a very dark day indeed.

making a mess

Maybe it's just me, but I feel that the Army Reserve is setting itself up for a big mess to get the Army Reserve Medical Command up and running. The last thing we need are more commands, particularly more medical commands, since the army medical system is already screwed up enough.

The fact that hospitals are in the mids of switching to the CHCHSII computer program isn't helping any, either. The old program sucked ass to begin with, because, sure, it was in the computer, but you still had to print it if it was needed at another facility. Now with the new program, it's all computerized, but if you enter something wrong, it takes an act of congress to fix it. Trueman's last hospital stay, which would've been pretty routine, illustrated almost every problem AMEDD has with its computer system and communicating between departments and units.

I shudder to think how this new Army Reserve Medical Command will foul things up. It'll definitely take some time to get things working as it should. Nothing in the Army is ever done quickly and efficiently. At least not when it comes to a command level. Most of the time not even when it's down to an individual unit.

I do like the idea of placing more importance onto soldier skills. I think that a lot of Reservists get so hung up in their high-speed MOS and the fact that they do hardly anything at drill - paperwork, cleaning weapons, going to the range at most - they forget they are soldiers. The girl who brought her purse to the range, for one. *rolls eyes* That was something else. And the fact that they expected us to run a range with medical support consisting of two ambulances and a plastic bag with IVs (but no needles)...

Maybe command level isn't where they need to start improving Reserve medicine.

WASHINGTON, Oct. 14, 2005 - A new Army Reserve command that streamlines the way medical forces are trained and managed is slated to stand up this weekend in Pinellas Park, Fla.

The new Army Reserve Medical Command, to activate during Oct. 16 ceremonies, will provide command and control for more than 28,000 soldiers in 258 medical units across the United States and Puerto Rico, its commander, Army Maj. Gen. Kenneth Herbst, said during an interview with the Pentagon Channel and the American Forces Press Service. The new command represents part of the transformation effort under way in the Army Reserve, with a move toward managing forces by function, not just geography, he said.

The standup dovetails with an Armywide transformation to a modular force, and aims to prepare Army Reserve medical practitioners to deploy more quickly and in smaller, more precisely organized units better adapted to a specific mission. With its headquarters at the new C.W. Bill Young Armed Forces Reserve Center, the command will centrally manage all Army Reserve medical units and soldiers and ensure they're fully trained to carry out their missions, Herbst explained. This includes not just medical expertise, he said, but also the soldier skills required to survive in a combat environment and carry apply that expertise.

"Most Army Reserve soldiers in the medical field (practice their specialties) on a day-to-day basis, but you also have to be able to perform your warrior skills, the collective unit skills," Herbst said. "And that's absolutely critical." So critical, in fact, that the motto of the new Army Reserve Medical Command is "warrior medics," he said.

In addition to headquarters operations, the new headquarters facility will house a clinical operational equipment set, a readily deployable 44-bed combat support hospital, which its 196 members will be prepared to deploy within 24 to 72 hours, as needed, Herbst said.

Consolidating the Army Reserve's medical expertise in one command will help short-circuit the mobilization timelines required to bring these reservists onto active duty and reduce the bureaucracy required to tap reservists with specific skills, he said. It also will encourage the training of reservists as teams, not just as individuals, so they're better prepared to carry out their missions when deployed, particularly in a hostile environment.

Operations in both Iraq and Afghanistan have sent a clear message about the tremendous capabilities reserve medical professionals bring to the force, Herbst said, noting that many reservists are leaders in the civilian medical field. "Our surgeons are very often the surgeons who are directing the trauma training programs at the best institutions in this country," he said. While bringing these high-level skills to the military medical system, these medical practitioners also enrich the civilian medical community by sharing the expertise they gain through military medicine, Herbst said. "So it's a dual enriching environment" for both medical communities, he said. This enrichment helps ensure that the military upholds its long tradition of taking care of its troops.

"George Washington said that the obligation of every commander is to provide for the health of the soldiers," Herbst said. "And I think that's what makes our Army such a great Army-supporting our soldiers. Every soldier knows that the finest medical care available is available right up to the front lines."

target

This is proof that, with practice, even I can start hitting a target with the M9 pistol. I'll admit that I really didn't like it at first because it's so different from the M1911 I had before; and I've had some really bad gun days. But I'm finally starting to get used to it. This grouping I shot on Monday at Shooter's - four magazines, rapid fire. I was doing well up until the point I got my finger caught between the magazine and the pistol while reloading. ^^* How embarrassing.

We hung out for a bit after shooting and found out that they have a box with ID cards that people have left at the range. When you go shoot there, you have to give them your membership card or your ID card, and they put it into the box that they keep the staplers in. Each stapler has a number that corresponds to a lane, and when you're done, you turn in the stapler and get your ID back. Apparently a lot of people forget to take their ID back, they just place the stapler on the front desk and walk out. I can see forgetting your driver's license, but if you're leaving your military ID, it should occur to you at least by the time you get back to base that you don't have it. Yet there's a stack of unclaimed ones. Some are pretty scary looking people, too.

Our Abby is adjusting nicely to our household and she is beeing a very good puppy, although a little strange - she likes sleeping under our bed! Her paw - whatever was wrong with it - doesn't give her trouble anymore, which is great news. But we did find out that when we leave her home alone, she barks at the door when there are people in the hallway. I was very surprised to hear about that because she doesn't as much as woof when we're in the house with her. She doesn't even bark at the cats!

The neighbors across the hall were the ones who told me. The younger neighbor, who is a Lieutenant in the Army, thought we had puppies from the sounds Abby was making, but said that it didn't bother her that she barked, because she is "doing her job", protecting the house. The older lady, her mother, was being a bitch about it. "So, that's the dog that's barking all the time," she said. Considering we've left Abby maybe three hours each time, all the time is a bit of an overstatement. Never mind that she probably wouldn't be barking at the door if the woman didn't stand in the hallway to smoke, anyway. Which she shouldn't even be doing.

It pissed me off, though. I know she doesn't like animals; she's made that very clear when we still had Blondi and when we introduced the cats. But you know, we never complained about her smoking in the hallway, or storing stuff on their patio, or their kid screaming, or their music being loud. Compared to them, we are very good neighbors. She has no reason to be rude to my face about the dog barking!

Abby has a vet appointment on Saturday to get her checkup and shots so that we can register her with the city at the beginning of the week. We're going to take her to Occoquan Animal Hospital, which is less than a mile from where we live, and hopefully it's a nice place. I want to ask them whether they can shave the inside of her right ear so that we can make out the full number of her tattoo, because it may help us find out whether she came from a breeder.

Lea from the local Shepherd Rescue told me that they've been getting some dogs that originated at Haus Juris, which is a northern Virginia breeder. They tattoo their dogs, and Lea said that all their dogs have a specific look that Abby has. It would be nice to find out more about her, I'm very curious!

Anyway... tomorrow is finally payday and we already have a big list of things we need. Now that we have a dog again, we've decided to buy one of those little steam cleaners, and we're also going to get her a crate to keep her in when we travel, go to events, and maybe when we're going to be gone for a few hours. I need a new pair of running shoes - already picked out the ones I like, but I bet by the time we get there on Saturday or Sunday they won't have the color I want in my size anymore (that's the way it usually goes).

I'm meeting with a guy and his wife tomorrow about pet sitting his two cats for the next two weeks while he's gone. He lives in our neighborhood, which means I'll be checking in on his kitties once a day, cleaning their litter box, and feeding them. It's a nice little way to earn some additional money - $250 for two weeks. I hope they're nice people, but I guess it doesn't really matter since they're not going to be there...

the other white meat

Cat - the other white meat?

I've got two choices now - I can let this blog degenerate into being about a little bit of everything and a lot of dog, or I can start a separate Dog Blog. But if I do that, I will join the ranks of those annoying bloggers who have one blog for simply everything -- A blog for writing. A blog for photos. A blog for stupid photos of their children. A blog for each one of their boring hobbies. Et cetera. I would likely do better not to become that sort of person.

Abby is doing well thus far. I wonder about her, of course. Someone obviously loved her once and took care of her. She has a tattoo in her ear, which means someone cared enough to register her in case she got lost. Or it was done by the breeder, in which case someone paid good money for her, much more than the $20 we paid yesterday. I just wish I knew more about her; I'd love to ask the owner who took her to a kill shelter a few questions. Such as, why did you let her nails get this long? And, why did you let her get so skinny? And, why not ask a breed rescue to find her a home?

She's been a very good pup since we've brought her home. We left her alone with the kitties for a couple of hours last night to drive to Washington, DC in search of a place called Club Midnight - which we didn't find in the end. The address was wrong, and so were the directions. But when we got home, house and kitties were still present and in once piece. A couple of things that were on dog-tail level got knocked over, but nothing that could've been broken. She certainly didn't dig or chew, or worse yet, go potty indoors.

Today we've found our first worry - she's limping on what appears to be her right front paw. But she doesn't mind putting weight on it, she's playing, eating normally, and walking on it. Dogs are prone to getting infections between their toes, and she'll have a bath tonight, which means if there are any cuts on her pads, we will find them. There's a good chance that she may have cut her pads on the chain-link fence at the shelter, or else stepped onto a sharp rock and bruised her pads. If it's something serious they'll find it at the vet's this upcoming week - we have to get her a checkup and a Rabies booster shot; and after that we also have to register her with the city. All of which will take place in the next 10 days.

Keep your fingers crossed that there's nothing wrong with her.

thought of the day

Government officials fear that as many as 20,000 to 30,000 people were killed in the earthquake in India and Pakistan. Do you think they've found a way to blame Bush for it yet? I'm sure they can connect it to the signing of the Kyoto agreement, if they try hard enough.

meet abby

Trueman and I are horrible hypocrites - we said we wouldn't get another dog because we didn't have the time, and a plethora of other reasons, such as "but we're at re-enactments every weekend and not all of them allow us to bring dogs", etc. Eh. Well. Truth be told, we have no events until January. We have family nearby who have rescue doggies and probably wouldn't mind taking ours for a weekend, and there's also a boarding kennel 5 miles away. And loads of events let us bring dogs. On top of that, we now have an SUV with space for a dog to ride in the back.

You see, originally we were supposed to go to an air show this weekend, which was cancelled last night due to the torrential rains we've been getting. Instead, we went to the Fairfax County Animal Shelter to look at doggies. Just to look. But it happens that Fairfax is a kill shelter and only keeps animals up to 11 days, 7 if they have no tags or other identification. And there we met Abby who was on her last day.

Abby is a purebred German Shepherd, but a small one - she's only slightly bigger than our Blondi, who was a Shepherd mix and now lives on a farm in Connecticut. And she is a sweetie. All licks and kisses. The only concern we had was - is she going to eat the cats?! (The shelter employees laughed at that one and assured us that, if she did eat the cat, we could bring her back.)

Thus far, both cats are still in one piece, and Abby's doing fine - she actually couldn't care less about them, unless they move, and then she wants to play. That is, until the kitties frizz up and growl at her, then she walks away. Heh. She's also turning out to be pretty smart. She knows how to open a door by sticking her nose in it. ^^ And she already helped the leasing office people catch a girl who was going around soliciting for cleaning services - by being a big mean protection dog and barking at her.

The funny thing is, we took her to Petsmart before registering her at the leasing office, and she didn't bark at anyone there. She didn't bark at anyone in the shelter. She only barked at the girl soliciting on the property we live on! This is going to sound very racist, but I think the reason was that the girl was African American. All the other people Abby's met today were Caucasian, Hispanic, or Asian. This kind of makes me wonder...

fatso

If you had children, would you send them to a school that includes their Body Mass Index, or BMI, on their report cards to let you know if they're "too fat"? If not, you may want to consider moving anywhere other than Pennsylvania, California, Florida, Arkansas, or Missouri.

This is riduculous. Since when is it the school's, or the state's business how fat people are? But who is to say what is "too fat", anyway. Should that standard be set by the fashion magazine editors whose models average a size 0 and are, on top of that, heavily airbrushed to hide any "flaws" they might have. Or how about the nice people in Hollywood, such as Lindsay Lohan who went from being a normal teenage girl to a sick-looking stick figure over the past year? And why do we even care, anyway?

Here's an article about it from the Big Fat Blog.

taboo topics

Trueman and I occasionally rent very obscure foreign films just for the heck of it. That's how we came to see Russian Ark, which isn't so much exciting, but amazing for the simple fact they did it with 2000 actors, 3 live orchestras and in a single take. Last Saturday we got the French movie Amen, which, I might add, is worth your time. But that's not really the point here.

The point is, Amen got me to thinking about religion.

I was born into a household that was Roman Catholic on my mother's side, and Lutheran on my father's. My father's side of the family, which consists of him, a maiden aunt, and a third cousin whom I've met once not counting the time I was an infant, were not exactly religious people. Except for my grandmother, they did not believe that going to church was the path to salvation, and particularly my aunt would only attend church community functions if the flyer included the words "free wine" in clearly legible print.

My mother's side of the family, however, was religious. I would not call them deeply religious because they didn't spend the majority of their free time praying for the souls of others, but they did spend a fair amount of their time in church activities such as committees, choirs, and such. As a matter of fact, my grandmother Amalie sang in the same church choir for over fifty years. She was singing in her choir before the last pope, John Paul II, was ordained as a priest in 1946.

Since my father cared little about religion, and Catholicism requires parents who are of different religions to raise their children as Catholics, my mom insisted that I follow in the footsteps of herself and my grandmother and become a good Christian woman.

That's where things started to go quite wrong, because I soon realized that this wasn't for me.

I have somewhat of a hunch that my First Communion played a huge part in this, because I was forced to take the required catechism classes. The classes in question were held at my neighbor's house, which would have been a plus were it not for the fact that their family was insanely religious and incredibly strict. Any sort of wandering thoughts or not paying attention in class, and an ass-chewing was sure to follow. I never understood how someone can preach about God's love and yell at a little child for not listening in the same breath.

The Catholic Church and I soon parted ways afterward when I started to become very interested in ancient Roman beliefs - I was a nerd and as interested in the Romans as any one girl can get. I wasn't screaming after New Kids on the Block (don't laugh, they were big back then), I was going after biographies of Caesar. I wish I were kidding, but alas, the truth is out. I stopped going to church with my family with the exception of the larger holidays when I wanted to keep the peace. Easter, however, was always a fight since Easter mass is very, very early in the morning and I was of the ardent belief that no human being should be awake that early if they could help it.

Needless to say, when the time for my Confirmation neared, I was less than thrilled when my mother informed me of that fact. Confirmation is supposed to represent a conscious and personal choice to be Catholic (age fourteen being perfect to make a decision of that magnitude) , although, in my family, it was more of a family tradition. I whined and griped about it at length and, in the end, agreed to do it. Not for a noble cause, mind you. Not even to please my elderly grandparents. Nope. I did it for a scanner. I should probably add that this was back when not everyone owned one and they were still very expensive.

I guess my mom decided she didn't want to give up on this religion thing quite yet and hoped to be able to redeem me yet, chalking my unwillingness to cooperate with Christianity off to being a teenager and rebelling, or some such entirely unrelated nonsense. Therefore, she sent me to a Catholic high school, albeit a fairly progressive one in that it had a co-ed student body. Girls still outnumbered boys about five to one, though.

I think it's high school where I really stopped seeing the sense in Catholicism, and the quote from Dogma really holds true that "Catholics don't celebrate their religion, they mourn it." Anyone who's ever been to a Catholic church with its high ceiling, stone floors, and butt-numbing wooden pews may sympathize with the feeling that Catholic church is many things, but cheerful is not one of them. I attribute a great deal of my knee problems to the slab of two-by-four that passes as a kneeler in Catholic church. Nowadays, both pews and kneelers tend to be cushioned. Where were those in the churchs I had to endure? And heaven help you if you snickered, or smiled in church. Heaven forbid you enjoyed any of it...

But what got to me most was not the fact that church was an uncomfortable ordeal at best, or even that I had religious studies for my last two periods on a Friday; it was the fact that most supposedly "religious" people are also huge, flaming hypocrites, and Sister Whatever-her-name-was who taught religious studies, was heading the bunch.

At the time, I lived down the road from a Mormon Community Center that let even us non-Mormons come down, hang out, and have a nice time. Their Community Center was carpeted, friendly, and had a big screen TV on which we watched movies, as well as ping-pong tables where we played until late in the evening each Friday. When I casually mentioned in class how much I enjoyed going there and how similar Mormon beliefs were to Christian beliefs, the Sister turned into Hypocrite-zilla. I would not have been surprised had her head swiveled around backward and flames shot from her eyes. I presume it's only a matter of luck that at no point my infidel self had been struck by divine lightning going to the Mormon community center. At least if you heard her tell it. This, of course, was the same woman who taught that Catholics are tolerant and respectful of the beliefs of others.

Wanna buy a bridge?

And so it came that, eventually, I began considering myself a pagan. Not a pagan in the Christian sense of being a non-Christian - which, by the way, always made me wonder if Christians think of Jews and Muslims as pagans as well - but a pagan in the sense of more ancient, nature-centered beliefs.

Of course I won't actually flatter myself to think that nowadays we have a thorough understanding of what any of these ancient beliefs actually were and how their rituals took place - we don't, because there isn't enough written about it. Much of it was probably lost when the last Bards passed away, since most pagan peoples, such as the Gauls (that is, the ancient French) did not keep written records. And that which is written, by good folks such as Julius Caesar, was ever so slightly tinged with a bit of propaganda - after all, the Gauls were the barbarians the Romans were fighting at the time. And therefore, what we have these days are communities of people with neo-pagan beliefs, some of which are based on what little sources there are, and some of which are only limited to the imagination of their sometimes rather strange followers.

The biggest problem I have found with paganism, aside from a lack of ancient sources, is Wicca. It's not that I have a problem with Wicca per se, it seems nice in principle and on paper; it's rather that I have a problem with the people it attracts. As much as I hate to generalize, Wicca seems to attract more than its fair share of weirdos and even more interestingly, religious zealots who never miss a chance to point out how mainstream religion persecutes them, and how horrible their lives are because they are "witches" and have "special powers." I have found that the large majority of Wiccans I've met are the ones who feel a constant need to push their religion onto others, whether it is by means of jewelry (I mean, isn't one pentacle enough?), by means of bumper stickers, or by means of rethoric. But if others do the same for their religion, it's discrimination and they're going to get the ACLU to sue that horrible, discriminating coworker who has a copy of the Lord's Prayer on their cubicle desk.

I have met some wonderful pagan people who loved their religion, loved themselves, and didn't bug the rest of the world with constant "look at me, I'm special" rhetoric. To me, this is what paganism should be - an understanding and celebration of oneself and the world around oneself. But even that, which was one of the very few things I've ever had in common with my sister, at some point stopped working for me.

It would be nice to arrive at a conclusion other than the fact that I am a devout agnostic these days, which is someone who refuses to be an atheist because there may just be a God out there in some form or another, but who also thinks that pretty much every religion gets it wrong with the undenying belief that there definitely is a God because they might just be wrong.

I also believe that there is a fundamental flaw in most religions, particularly Christianity, Islam, and Judaism, and that flaw is that humans are involved. As much as I hate to say it, any religion can have the greatest intentions of brotherly love and understanding, eternal life, and a loving bearded fellow looking down on us as we go about our day, but when it comes down to it, most of the humans are out for themselves. Even if they're out under the banner of religion, it's still down to the size of one's land. Or the number of one's followers. Or whatever.

Count me out.

a mother's letter

I wish Blogger let me upload .pdf files, but alas, it doesn't, so I have to copy the whole thing. I got this from my friend Harry who is a Major with AMEDD where he does neat stuff like developing portable devices to detect biological warfare agents.

September 17, 2005

Dear Casualty Notification Officer,

Almost a year ago you came to my door with the devastating news of the death of my son, SPC Bradley S. Beard. You waited at the curb with your fellow officer in the predawn stillness of an October morning until you saw the lights come on in the house. My clock read 6:38 A.M. when you pressed the doorbell.

I don't know how you found the courage to walk up our front steps. Maybe that is why the Army assignes two soldiers to the mission: So they can't back out. I can't imagine how you were able to steel yourself, and resolve in your mind to say the words that would break my heart and shred my soul. Surely there cannot be a worse mission given to a soldier.

I cannot fathom how a soldier is able to complete even one mission of this type. It isn't a warrior task for which anyone could truly become trained and proficient... and yet you were given this task and expected to perform the job with dignity and compassion. And you did just that. It must have something to do with the instilling of the Army values of loyalty, duty, respect, selfless service, honor, integrity, and personal courage. That is the only explanation I have been able to come up with.

It bothers me all these months later, that I was unable to treat you with the respect and honor that you deserved for taking on such a horrible and thankless task: our notification. I remember yelling at my husband not to open the door, and then begging him not to let you inside the house. You were the last person I wanted to see standing on my porch, and I think I conveyed that to you. I would not speak to you or look at you or shake your hand when you offered it. I guess all my goodwill and courtesy just drained away and bled out of my heart in those few moments I saw you standing in the doorway.

I know that I cannot go back and rewrite the past so as not to be rude to you. God knows I would rewrite history if I could, but my rewrite would include Bradley still living. In my version, you and I would never meet. But we did meet, badly. The only thing I can do is make amends for that, if you are willing to give me the chance. I would be honored if you could visit us again. This time I would open the door. I would invite you in. I would look at you directly. I would speak to you civilly. I would offer you a cup of coffee. And most importantly, I would shake your hand, and thank you for your service to our country.

Sincerely,
Elisabeth A. Beard
Mom of SPC Bradley S. Beard, redeployed to heaven October 14, 2004

weekend fun

Trueman and I got paid on Friday since the first fell on a Saturday, so I headed up to the leasing office to drop off the rent check on Friday afternoon. Better to get it done early, you know. I took along my cat, Murphy, who likes to go outside and I want her to get used to being around more people. She fussed a little because she'd rather be on the ground than being carried, but overall she did just fine. The girls at the leasing office thought she was the most adorable little kitty.

In the evening, Trueman and I went to another football game at one of the local high schools, which is located very close to his office. We met two of the other recruiters there and happened to run into one of the Marine Corps recruiters as well.

The more I get to talk to the Marines, the more I'm becoming convinved that they have much better ways to go about recruiting than those found within USAREC. Their whole mission is about putting people in boots, and they don't receive the same amount of micromanaging than the Army recruiters do with the relentless ass-chewings about not making lead line, even if they enlist people. The Marines go about it right, in my opinion. Or at least better than the Army does.

The school the game was at is very nice and so new that this is the first year they actually have seniors. The teachers and staff are all very nice, but good grief, their football team sucks big time. Their team was playing the team that lost so badly to the Bulldogs last week, and they were getting creamed. It was almost painful to watch. At one point, a player from the guest team had the ball and I swear, there were five kids from the hometeam hanging on to him, and he just kept going as if they weren't even there. Yikes.


The photo is from the halftime show. The school has a pretty good marching band that did a medley of 1970s music, which was nice. The girls in black are the flag twirlers and the ones in skirts are cheerleaders, obviously. I've always wondered what the requirements were to become flag-twirlers. I guess you have to have a heartbeat and no other talents. ;P

Not a lot of people came to the game, and I think that has something to do with the fact that there's been a lot of fighting going on after local high school football games recently. Last Friday, a girl was stabbed after a game, and we heard that somewhere else, someone had gotten shot after a game. That's just amazing to me, how people can be this stupid and this violent toward each other, and I certainly don't remember anything even remotely like this when I was still in school. And you'd think with police officers at the game, this sort of thing wouldn't happen, either.

Saturday was a really nice day as well - the weather is starting to be more fall-like. Leaves are falling and the temperatures have cooled down a little. It's perfect jeans and T-shirt weather now and that's exactly the way I like it. If it were up to me, the weather could stay like this all year 'round here in Virginia!

Trueman's office is going to be inspected by some higher-ups this week and they have been getting the station ready for it. They have a board on one of the wall with headshots of all the recruiters - except that only two people out of everyone in the station have their photos up right now, and this was something they were told to fix at the last inspection. On Saturday afternoon they rushed to have the photos done. The station commander told everyone to bring their Class A's for the photos, but only two people brought theirs! Trueman let everyone borrow his jacket for the photos, and I wonder whether anyone will notice that all the recruiters have the exact same ribbon rack when they look at the photos now. Hehe.

But because they mostly spent the day preparing for the inspection, Trueman got off early and we went shooting after he got home. It was fun ... the range was really busy because they teach Pistol 101 on Saturday afternoon, which shuts down half of the lanes for the class. The other half was packed and people had to wait 20 or 30 minutes for their turn. We were really lucky because we walked in just as someone came out and got a lane right away.

I'm finally starting to get better with my M9, especially with the rapid firing. My shot pattern now shows some visible strings of hits, which looks pretty neat, and is easy to correct with some more practice. It won't be long now before I hold a really tight group even at rapid fire. That makes me a very happy camper, indeed.

After we got done shooting, we stayed at the shop for a little bit to have some sodas and talk with the guys who work there. They're always very entertaining. We were out there waiting, when a guy came up from the range holding his pistol, with a round jammed in the chamber - backward. I don't know how he could've possibly gotten it to chamber backward, unless he didn't pay any attention while loading his magazine and actually loaded it backward, but it was a very stupid thing of him to bring it off the range and into the shop full of people. Who knows, by poking and prodding it to get the round lose, he may have set off the primer and shot someone. People can be so stupid.

On Sunday we went to Oktoberfest at Fort Belvoir and it was very disappointing. I was wearing my Dirndl for the occasion and I like to think I looked pretty cute in it. The problem was, though, that nobody else had dressed up for the occasion with the exception of the Elbe Musikanten, the German band who was playing at it. It's even more ironic that a lot of people stopped to tell Trueman how much they liked his T-shirt (his shirt said "Where the heck is Ausfahrt, Germany" on it), but nobody stopped to tell me they liked my Dirndl. Oh well....

The Oktoberfest itself wasn't all that, either. They had some good German food and we got a nice Oktoberfest beer mug, but the only German beer they had was Spaten and other than the beer tent, there was hardly anything interesting to see. They did have their annual fall bazaar in a building next to where the Oktoberfest was, and we found some neat items there - a pair of vintage linen bloomers to wear under my Dirndl and some vintage lipstick cases that I'll most likely put up on eBay (well, the ones I'm not keeping...).

After Oktoberfest we went back home and then went shopping. It's nice to go to the mall somtimes, but I didn't really find a whole lot. I bought a cute polo shirt and a pair of sweat pants at Aero, though, because they were on sale.