24 Hours

I had a 24 hour shift the day before Thanksgiving. From 0900 to 0900 I sat in a little room with one other Soldier and was in charge of quarters (CQ). The job description is to answer the phone during the day, and to make sure no shenanigans go on in the single Soldier dorms during the night. Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened. Nothing ever happens. But, someone has to be there in the off chance someone decides to get crazy.

So I sat. And did nothing for 24 hours. There is no TV. We're forbidden to use our laptops or to play games on anything electronic. They'd take away our phones if they could just to keep us from doing anything entertaining. Sleep is not allowed. If you are caught sleeping there are serious consequences. It's suggested to read Army manuals... but sleep is not allowed, so I stay away from reading said manuals.

Sitting in a building for 24 hours with shady signs like the one pictured above accomplishes one thing only. It's pretty much in the bag that I'm going to get cancer. Respirators and protective clothing are not provided for me to work in. That is bullshit. And I won't even be able to sue the Army for slowing killing me by forcing me to work in condemned buildings. You win again, Army....

Road Conditions Are RED

Fort Lewis basically shut down for the day. It snowed yesterday and last night so that means everyone in a 100 mile radius of the Puget Sound lost their damn minds and cannot properly operate heavy machinery, i.e. privately owned vehicles.

It's fine with me. I know how to drive in ice and snow. I'm an Iowa girl. It was bred into my bones to know how to deal with crappy weather. Also, I'm not a total retard and I can make educated decisions about how to safely navigate the roads. I can't say that's true for most of the rest of the population.

On my way to work this morning, because I was not notified the post was shut down until I was already at work, I saw at least 4 accidents. People were flying down I-5 like it was a beautiful summer day and then about 3 miles later I'd catch back up with them because they were nose first in a ditch. Silly Californians and Texans. Learn to drive where you live now, not where you used to live!

I was at work for a grand total of 45 minutes. Just long enough to tell all my Soldiers that they risked their lives to come to work for nothing and to, once again, risk their lives and go back home. It was rewarding. Go Army!

Cold Weather PTs

It's supposed to snow this weekend.

Yuck.

I understand that there are places in this country where it has already snowed this winter, but for the area of Washington that I live in, this is too soon. Waaaaay too soon, if you ask me.

I'm not a fan of being cold. At all. In fact, I'm a huge baby about being cold. I'd rather be hot any day than freeze. It seems like everything the Army issues for cold weather was not actually tested in cold weather. Or maybe a big fat guy with lots of fat cells to insulate him was chosen to test the gear. But most likely it was a big fat guy testing it in Florida who also zero fashion sense. Clearly (as pictured below) the Army needs a visit from Clinton and Stacey from What Not To Wear.

Not only is it a hideous PT uniform, it's also not warm. And wearing shorts under those pants is a huge pain in the ass because the shorts ride up so it's like wearing a diaper made out of a wind breaker. The pants also run about 6 sizes too small so if you're not careful, they can turn into PT leggings-- which are never long enough no matter what size you get. The long sleeve t-shirt worn under the jacket is actually a turtle neck. Who wants to run in a turtle neck? Who wants to leave the house PERIOD in a turtle neck?

Winter PTs need some serious help.

Cuteness Overload

I'm still certain Picasso is the cutest puppy in the world, quite possibly ever. I'm a proud puppy mommy and want to shove these pictures in every one's face! (But he's so cute, who could mind??)

Yes, Picasso wears clothes and he likes it. He's gotten fat and happy and naughty since I brought him home. His puppy teeth are as sharp as razors and he poops one hundred times a day. Thank goodness he's so cute.

Rain, Rain Go-Away

Oh Washington, I can't wait to see you in my rear view mirror and never have to look back.

I'm not on orders to leave Fort Lewis, Washington just yet. But I've put in my request to be relocated. I am no longer willing to play with Washington any more. Sure, it's a beautiful green state full of evergreen trees, but you know what? Everything is green for a reason: rain.

Rain, rain, rain. I'm sick of being soaked. I don't want to run in it, lay out inventories in it, drive in it, go to the range in it... and the list just goes on and on. I want to have several pairs of running shoes because I like to buy shoes, not because every set needs two days to dry out before you can run in them again.

A new bothersome thing about this particular area of Washington is the traffic. Fort Lewis is located right off Interstate 5. I-5 is the only north/south corridor running through Olympia, Tacoma and Seattle. Fort Lewis is smack in the middle of those busy cities. Every day I contend with Army traffic, civilian traffic, and commercial traffic all at once... and in the rain.

Today the traffic was so awful, my 10 mile trip home took an hour and 10 minutes. And it was raining. And it was super dark thanks to the day light savings time change last weekend. I go to work in the morning and it's dark. I come home from work at night and it's dark. It's also raining both ways.

Picasso Screams Like A Girl

People say puppies whine when they are alone in their crates for the first few nights.

Picasso screams like a wet cat and a banshee are giving birth in his crate when I put him in it. It's very disturbing. What is even more disturbing about his screaming is his endurance. That puppy can scream for hours before he tires himself out. My downstairs neighbor doesn't care for it too much. Said neighbor banged on my door around midnight a few days ago and gruffly explained that he "works for a living" and I need to "shut that animal up" or he will "complain to the office" and have him "removed".

So, I don't put Picasso in his crate at night anymore. Mean downstairs neighbor doesn't need to pay me any more intimidating midnight visits.

I don't care if it sounds like I'm torturing a pig in my house in the middle of the night; I am a Soldier proudly fighting for that freedom in the United States Army! Sheesh!