New
base of operations. Brazos Bend State Park.
https://www.google.com/maps/@29.3758492,-95.6064047,15z
We
have to watch for weather windows for camping. No winter storms or heat
waves. We think we’re cool this week. Highs in the low 80s.
Lows in the 60s. Reliable internet.
Did I join the Army to be
a career soldier? That was a very real possibility.
Basic training. They
start out by calling me dog shit. I’m nothing, but they can fix
that. They fixed it with physical and verbal abuse for eight weeks, then told
me I should be proud at my graduation. No problem. Exactly what I
expected.
Next up, eight weeks of
advanced infantry training. I was dog shit again, and they reminded me
frequently. Each week of military training is an eternity. We track
seven-day segments with great care and count down to the end. After that,
jump school. Another three weeks of the most intense abuse. They
took great pride in how many soldiers they could force to quit. For every
ten of us that started, six quit and four made it through. Still, at the
end of all this intense training, I had gotten exactly what I expected. I
wasn’t supposed to enjoy this part.
Three weeks of confinement
in the bowels of a troop transport ship crossing the Pacific, and I arrived at
my first duty assignment. The 173rd Airborne Brigade on the
island of Okinawa. They lined us all up in formation and how did they
welcome us? They shouted at us and told us we were dog shit.
What? I’m six months into my Army career, I’ve given it my all, and I’m
still dog shit? When is the time they welcome me as part of the team, a
trained and skilled soldier, and start to treat me like an adult? That
moment, the welcoming to my first duty assignment, was my awakening, and the
end of any desire for a career in the military. The Army does a lot of
things that guys like to do. They could have had me. But not like
that.
Two and a half years
remaining on a three-year enlistment to ride it out from there.
It
looks like a Yellow Warbler, but it has a uniquely colored head. Well, in
fact it is a Yellow Warbler, a subspecies of it.
They
like to hide in, you guessed it, mangroves!
They
bounce around, picking bugs, so you know they’re in there, but it’s hard to get
a bead on one.
You
have to watch and wait until it shows itself through a window in the foliage.
From
the New York Times, in reference to Diane Feinstein.
“She has also been suffering from a deterioration in her
short-term memory and her ability to hold conversations for more than a year.”
Yeah,
Darn that Feinstein. She gets about 340 days into a conversation and
loses the thread every time!
Judy
just got a chunk of something cut out, surgically removed, from the back of her
hand. The doctor told her she couldn’t wash dishes or get her hand wet
for three weeks. What? Three weeks without clean dishes at our
house? My life sucks!
Check
this out. A White-crowned Sparrow with a white throat.
A
different species. The White-throated Sparrow.
Slip-in
sneakers. The television ads show how easy it is. No-one ever has
to lean over. Just slip your feet into these shoes and walk away smiling.
Know
what else? All those people in the commercials were wearing socks.
If it’s so important not to lean over to put on your shoes, how did all those
people get their socks on?
