New Year's Resolutions

"There goes 6 hours I'll never get back!"

I've learned over the years that if I put my previously unstated goals down on paper, I tend to focus a little more on accomplishing them. Here are a few that I have for 2008. I will probably add more as this is a working list, but it's a start:

1. Avoid flights thru Denver in the winter (see previous post).

2. Take my sons hunting with their new shotguns. Deer, rabbit, squirrel, elk, bear, cats, rats, birds, fish, cans, trees, each other--it probably doesn't matter what. It's the act of getting out there and doing it, I think.

3. Take the family Salmon fishing. I hear the fishing is great around Seattle. The thought of my 8-year-old hooking a big 10 pounder would make my day.

4. Get my family to try (and like) fish. This is dependent on the success of number 3.

5. Get up to Victoria, BC, for a visit. I hear it's really a nice town.

6. Read three of the Easton Press classics in our bookcase that have been patiently waiting for me to spend some time with them. No Cliff's Notes, either.

7. Requalify as an airdrop pilot. This is the most fun flying there is in the C-17.

8. Cook a great meal once a month. Fishsticks and fries don't count. Neither does anything microwavable.

9. Write a song for my wife. I've got to up my game on the guitar this year. My wife has listened to the same renditions of "Folsom County Blues" and "Does Fort Worth Ever Cross Your Mind" for the past two years. Merely putting words to these melodies does not count either. I figure that would be a nice way to tell her how much I love her. Much better than a vacuum cleaner.

10. Make and can homemade jelly. I've been wanting to try this for years. I'm tossing around some new flavor ideas. Boiled gym sock, belly button lint, barber shop floor sweepings, gas station men's room urinal cookie, or strawberry. I'll let my kids decide.

11. Plant and (hopefully) harvest my own garden in my own backyard. I've always gotten a kick out of growing my own stuff. Legal stuff, of course.

12. Get the font scheme figured out on this blog. It just doesn't do what I want it to do. Banging on the keyboard doesn't work. I've tried that several times. No, I haven't read the directions. I'm a guy. It's supposed to come to me naturally, right?

I think this is probably a good start for now. Hopefully I'll look back on it in a year and check them all off. Headed downrange again tomorrow on another flight. Looks like I'll actually get in the seat and fly this time.

Home for the next 2 months

Arrived on the 30th badly needing a shower and very, very jet-lagged. I learned to never, never try to connect through Denver in the winter. We spent an extra day in Germany due to weather downrange. Arlene and the kids were visiting her sister in Italy for the holidays, so I was unable to see them. Agonizingly close to home. Probably for the best that I didn't go by there as an empty house is worse than being on the road. That, and I forgot my key.
Went up on a flight the day after we arrived and went in country twice. All went fine. One guy saw some tracer fire way off in the distance--probably someone celebrating the new year. As normal a flight as you can have in that part of the world I suppose.
All is well. I want to wish all my friends and their families a Happy New Year.

On the Road Again

Busy today taking care of last minute preparations. Bus leaves for the airport bright and early...0300. I'm debating whether I should even bother going to sleep tonight.
Christmas was fine. I had an old friend invite me to a get together Christmas Eve where we all had Christmas Enchiladas. I'm thinking of making that a new tradition in the Ritterhaus--they were tasty! I got back to my room in time to field the call from the wife at my sister-in-law's in Italy. The kids were in a fever pitch as they all said "hello" to me while being forced to stand in the pre-staging area. I laughed when I heard the screams of joy as they were released into the living room to see what Santa brought. My daughter got a Felicity American Girl doll--I could hear her scream it loudest above the other screams. The boys were very happy with their new PS3 (so was I). Only thing I'm missing is the "testing out of the games" that dads are required to do before the kids play.
Christmas day saw me hanging out watching tv and movies. By the way, "Trainspotting" is NOT a good Christmas movie. I went over to my friend's house for Christmas dinner. I got to live vicariously through their 3 boys playing with their gifts. It would seem I made quite the impression on them as the youngest asked me if I wanted to go play with them.
I'm looking forward to getting out with my new squadron. The hustle and bustle of deployed ops with help the time pass more quickly.
Happy New Year all.

Class B Bachelor Life

I've been at Seattle for 2 weeks now and I have come to realize something. Being married is great. I realize that I am, presently, a Class B Bachelor and not truly single, but it's close enough to the real thing to make me feel the effects.
What is a Class B Bachelor? It's one who, though married with all of married life's restrictions (i.e. no cheating--Homey don't play that game), has the freedom to go where he pleases and do what he pleases without worrying about pleasing the wife and/or children. No "chick flick" movies. No Disney movies. Straight action flicks and comedies with lots of fart jokes. It also means you can eat where you want if you choose to eat out. For me, that means all-you-can-eat Chinese buffets. Something about paying $8 to stuff myself with cashew chicken, only to be hungry again in an hour. Can't stay away.
You know though, as nice as all that sounds, the appeal wears off after about 8 hours and I realize how much I miss the wife and kids. The hotel room starts closing in and it is just too quiet. When I'm out and about, I find that I can't help smiling at little kids walking by. I saw a 1 1/2 year old boy chasing a ping pong ball across the floor of the mall yesterday and I couldn't take my eyes away. I wanted to sit down there with him and play. I miss my 12-year-old kicking my tail on Playstation, I miss playing roughhouse with my 8-year-old, I miss laughing with my wife.
Yep, I don't miss being single one bit. Give me the noise, the chick flicks, and McDonalds (again) anytime if I can be near my family.

5 Days to Go...

Finally found a computer that can give me access to the internet and my blog. I've been wondering around base for the past week like a zombie trying to find some way to communicate with the outside world. Let's see, what's happened since my last post?

Spent all last weekend checking out the local area and potential homesites for the new Ritterhaus. I don't delude myself into thinking I can actually BUY a house right now. CINC House (that's "Commander in Chief House"--my wife) is not here. "If Momma ain't happy, nobody's happy," is a little rule I live by. There are some nice areas around here and I am laying some good groundwork for future house shopping excursions. It's like being there for the delivery of the baby (reference my last post), not much for me to do but be there.

Had a wonderful evening out with James Monday night. I learned a few things that night. One, that oysters pulled out of different sections of the Puget Sound taste remarkably different. Two, that it is possible to get good Irish Beer outside of Ireland. And three, God has blessed me immensely with wonderful friends. These blogs have been a wonderful way to keep in touch. I pray we can all get together more often than every High School reunion.

I spent most of the week preparing for my upcoming deployment. I'm not looking forward to being away from the family, but being busy helps the time pass quickly and speeds (or seems to at least) the reunion. I got to fly last night for the first time in a month and the first time here at McChord. It was a beautiful, crisp evening and I had a good flight. We flew right past Mount Rainier and Mount St. Helens. I didn't realize St. Helens was that close to Seattle. The guys said that you can see a pretty good heat signature coming from it when you wear night vision goggles.

Tonight's my movie night. Think I'm in the mood from a good hamburger from Fuddrucker's. Hope there's one around here.

Busy Friday

Pressing hard to get ready before my deployment. Spent most of the day running through computer tutorials and tracking down folks to sign off various inprocessing items. I met the Ops Group commander today and had the opportunity to chat with him for a few minutes about what I'll be doing for the foreseeable future.

I talked with his secretary while I was waiting. Her youngest daughter is due to deliver her first any day now. We were regailing each other with stories of the deliveries of our children. The funniest thing, and something that seems to be a recurring theme with all the fathers I've talked with that have been in the delivery room with their wives, is just how little we actually contribute to the birthing process. I had visions of coaching my wife through this most natural of events, just like the husbands do in the movies. "Breathe, breathe, breathe, PUUUSSSSHHH!" Nope. None of that. Arlene didn't want to hear anything I had to say. It got to the point where my breathing irritated her. You can't really blame them, can you? I bang my head on the cabinet and I want to punch a hole in the wall. I can only imagine what I'd do if I had to squeeze out a basketball. You get the picture.

I eventually accepted my role as the punching bag/handgrip/scratching post/head full of hair to pull, during deliveries. My wife would be mildly surprised at the damage after all the smoke cleared and the child was born, and mildly amused. It was the least I could put up with, right? I recently passed this nugget of wisdom along to a friend of mine who planned to be in the delivery room for the birth of his first. He later thanked me. Some things never change, I guess.

A Real Hero

Today at lunch I met an older gentleman and struck up some small talk while we waited for the salad bar to open. This gentleman was not cut from the same cloth as the older, meaner sort commonly found on cruiseships. A very pleasant man of 87 with a sharp mind and firm handshake. I was in uniform and he asked me if I was a pilot. I said, "Yes," and he told me he once flew on military aircraft as well. I always enjoy talking with the guys who flew planes in the "good old days," so I asked him what he flew on. Turns out he was a radio operator on a Navy torpedo bomber in WWII. The more we talked the more Mr. Tom Nelson laid out a tremendous story that had me riveted for 2 hours.
Mr. Nelson was stationed at Pearl Harbor and vividly remembers the morning of 7 December 1941. He was rolling out of the bunk when he heard a plane in a power dive and the first explosion. He and some buddies thought it was a training accident and went out to look. Imagine their surprise when they saw Japanese fighter planes attacking our ships in the harbor.
He participated in the Naval battle of Santa Cruz in October 1942, flying off the carrier Enterprise. His plane was shot down by Zeros and he parachuted into the ocean, spending about a day floating in shark infested waters until he was picked up by a Japanese destroyer. He spent the next 3 years in Japanese prison camps unloading railroad cars and working in iron mills along with the other American and British comrades there with him. He told me of how they "continued the fight" by sabotaging as much as they could. He passed along one particular time when he and a buddy helped sink a barge by dropping a 200 pound iron bar through the bottom. He talked a little of his Japanese captors. One in particular was a young, overly zealous guard who was not highly regarded by the American and British prisoners. They thought even less of him when they found out he had flunked out of Kamikaze school.
When the war ended, he and his fellow camp mates commandeered a passing Japanese train and made their way to Tokyo. I love talking to guys like this. The sad part is that there are less and less of them every day.