Friend of the Year

I've been walking my good friend Tracy's dogs for her while she is in Drill Sergeant School. Every Sunday I go over to her house and pick them up from her mom and take them on a 4 mile walk through the back wooded area of Fort Campbell. My job is to wear them out. 

The dogs are two giant and beautiful German Shepherds. One thing I didn't know about this particular breed is that they are very vocal. And when I say vocal, I mean these dogs howl. They are so excited to go on these walks with me that they just scream in the car the whole ride out there. Yodeling and barking, and jumping from the front seat to the back seat. Paws on the dashboard. Accidentally rolling down windows and shifting the car into neutral while I'm driving. Barking right in my ear. I literally drive with my a finger in my right ear to try to protect my eardrum from these dogs.

They are so excited. And it's flattering. But I really feel like I should be winning Friend of the Year for doing this for 10 weeks! Thank God I'm not transporting these dogs in my own car. Tracy's mom lets me borrow her Jeep.

Once we actually get out onto the trails they are wonderful. They mind me. They don't run off. They don't need to be on a leash. I love them. On the way home, they sit quietly and look out the window. It's just the ride there... its a three ring circus. 

Today's walk was in the snow. It was so beautiful. I took the dogs back onto a range I've never personally been on. Special Forces train back there, and since it's President's Day weekend, I figured no one would be training. I was right. It's a nice MOUT site. I liked the change of scenery, and I think the dogs actually did too. 

Only a few more weeks walking the dogs until Tracy comes home. I'm going to miss the walks. 

But not the drive. 

Fall Doggie Photo Shoot

I got out the good camera today and tried to take pictures of the frenchies. Picasso is more cooperative all around when it comes to things like this. He doesn't mind wearing ridiculous sweaters, and he has no problem standing somewhere and looking thoughtfully off into the distance. Gertie, on the other hand, was embarrassed to wear her sweater and just wanted to eat grass. 

Out of the 85 pictures I took, here are a few winners:

Maybe we will try again at Christmas....  

Wedding

James and I tied the knot in Las Vegas on August 10th. There are a million funny or sweet stories to tell, but I think the story that needs to be shared is a story of a catastrophic wardrobe malfunction.

 

**Let me preface this tale by saying I had just been bragging to some friends that this has been a completely stress free wedding for me. Karma is a bitch.

 

So I was getting ready in my parent's hotel room. As my mom was zipping up the back of my gorgeous wedding dress, the zipper broke. And when I say broke, I mean, the dress was completely zipped up the back but the zipper teeth weren't biting each other any longer. This dress was not meant to be backless, and there were only 30 minutes until the ceremony was supposed to start.

 

I burst into tears. Of course I burst into tears. Who wouldn't? My day was just ruined. I put on a ridiculous green dress (it had pockets-- you can't get married in a dress with freaking pockets) and wanted to back out of the ceremony.

 

James saved the day and called every resource he could think of to save the dress. He finally found a tailor downstairs in the casino mall who would look at the dress. I ran to the tailor with 2 friends in tow. The seamstress replaced the entire zipper in just about 15 minutes. I was zipped back into the dress-- and thank you sweet baby Jesus the zipper teeth stayed biting each other. I ran barefoot back through the casino and arrived at the chapel 10 minutes late.

 

Out of breath, but in a beautiful dress (without pockets), I married the man I love... who also saved the day. XOXO

 

 

 

 

Sadie

This reminds me of my mom and dad's black lab:

Area Beautification

My Company went to the field over the last 4 days to practice hospital and medical chemical operations. During the first day, Evac peeled off while Treatment set up the hospital tents to take care of our own business. True, Evac doesn't have nearly as much to set up, but we still have things to do... like set up the camo nets, and cut the grass down beneath them...

Weed eating in the field. OMG.

 

Who does area beautification in the back 40 of Fort Campbell?? Medical assets, that's who!!

 

And, in perfect Evac fashion, the Soldier weed eating is the only Mexican Soldier in the platoon. He volunteered, I swear. Haha. I love this platoon!

Things You Do In The Army...

Clearly, it takes a different kind of person to be in the Army. Generally speaking 12 mile road marches, running 4 miles, waking up at 4:30am, working 12 hours daily, land navigation in pitch darkness and wearing long sleeves and pants all year doesn't appeal to the masses. It takes a special, maybe a short bus kind of special, person to do this and love it.

Here are a few things Army folks do that most people wouldn't-- either due to class, standards or morals.

1. Nap in your car. Every Army person is guilty of this. I get to work 30 minutes early just to park in the lot and sleep in my car. I use my PT cap as a pillow.

2. Sleep on the floor. Sometimes this is the only option. When something is the only option, you do it. Once you're used to doing it, you do it frequently and easily.

3. Eat meals in your car. It doesn't matter if you're driving or sitting stationary in your car, at some point during the day, you will eat in it. You will even keep fast food napkins stashed in your car. Also, you will learn to sleep in military vehicles, regardless if they are on or off.

4. Talk about poop. You will talk about poop with your co-workers. This kind of natural conversation will sabotage any kind of civilian job you ever plan to have, so you'd better just stay in the Army and keep talking about poop.

5. Wear white calf socks with shorts. It's part of the Army PT uniform. As a civilian, this is a social and fashion no-no. In the Army, everyone looks like an old man at the beach, so you just roll with it.

6. Hear explosions and ignore them. Not many other jobs prepare you for this acquired skill. Things blow up on post-- get over it.

7. Go alone into the woods at night. We do this stuff called land navigation. And it requires you to do a day and night iteration. Alone. In the woods. Alone. With unidentified animals. Alone.

This is just a short list. But hear me now, we're different from the average bear. We may not know when or where it happens, but somehow we do these things civilians just won't do in good conscious. And we end up loving it... or ETSing....

Bacon Flip

Have you ever wondered what bacon flavored vodka tastes like? Or are you shaking your head in disbelief that bacon flavored vodka exists? Well it does. And I've tasted it.

I didn't actually taste it by itself, however. I may be from Iowa, but I do not like bacon. I like vodka, but my dislike of bacon trumped that. Luckily, the reason the bacon vodka was purchased was to be an ingredient in something much more spectacular: The Bacon Flip.

The Bacon Flip ingredients are as follows:

• 1 raw egg
• Bacon Vodka
• Bailey's Irish Cream
• Maple Syrup

It's breakfast in a shot. Our shots got a little excessive because the ingredients were not measured out at all. So it turned into a plastic cup of breakfast madness.

We'd been hyping ourselves up about the Bacon Flip all week at work. And when I was stirring the egg up in my cup, I was very apprehensive. I also don't like eggs. I know, I don't think I'm really a native Iowan. But truth be told, the Bacon Flip was not nearly as awful as it could have been. The maple syrup masked everything. The worst part of the whole experience was feeling the egg go down because it was stringy and felt like a snot rocket.

The Bacon Flip was conquered. Let it be known.

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....

Army Signs

The Army doesn't always employ rocket scientists, let's just go ahead and throw that one on the table as a fact. Many Soldiers need a lot of guidance and direction to complete even the simplest of tasks. Luckily, in my field as a medic, I am not always subjected to the retardedness directly. Inevitably, it finds itself to me in a round about way....

Like in the form of informational signs.

This is a sign posted above the sinks at the hand washing station at our chow hall. Obviously, it must have been an issue if the giant warning had to be placed. It appears over every other sink to really drive home the point, too. Every time I walk in there I have such a strong desire to start spitting all over the place. I suppose that sign backfired.

And this lovely sign is posted on the outside of every single port-o-potty at JSS Muthana. Same awesome sign every time. I started to wonder what on Earth people were doing in there to make someone post the intended use of a port-o-potty, and then I stopped myself. Perhaps not knowing makes me a better person in the long run.

This last one is an Isralei bandage. They're pretty nifty stretchy bandages. But like all bandages, no matter how fancy, there is one intended use of the white pad on the backside. If you don't know to put the white side toward the wound, may God help you. You, apparently, are not too dumb to work for the Army, but you are too dumb to work anywhere else.

SimMan Fun

We unloaded five Sim Men out of the connex today. The Sim Man is a simulation manikin that medics get to play with as learning tools. They have injuries we can practice treating. They can be hooked to computers and programmed to have a heart rate and breath sounds. Their chests will rise and fall and they can even scream in pain. But before they can do any of that cool stuff, they have to be put together.

There was a lot of laughter in the EVAC shack today.

Behind Curtain Number One

I was in the motor pool for a ridiculous amount of time today. I sometimes forget that being in the Evacuation Platoon means I am really a med-canic, not a medic. Working on the vehicles isn't something I even begin to understand. So when I was offered the chance to be elbows deep in a motor, I politely declined, and took part in the shenanigans instead.

I do not want to say that Army mechanics are not smart. I've worked with a really intelligent mechanic who actually turned out to be a mentor and a really good friend to me (shout out to Audra!). However, stereo types are made for a reason. And the mechanics in the motor pool this evening made it very clear that being portrayed as intelligent human beings was not high on the list of things to be done.

Let me set the scene... I was being hopelessly flirted with by a particularly dirty but sweet mechanic when my attention was drawn to the hysterics going on behind Curtain Number One. As I turned the corner this is what I laid eyes on:

I thought it was a real person at first! But no! True, it was just as filthy as the mechanics but it was simply a broom disguised as one! I asked where the weiner came from and I was informed that it was found outside lying in the gravel (sketchy?).

I walked in a little further behind Curtain Number One to inspect the broom-welder-flasher-thing and was met with this:

That is some poor Soldier's bike! Covered in tape, zip ties and brooms. Also, a homemade cannon was added. (I found out that the cannon is used to launch individually wrapped muffins across the garage at one another.) I do not doubt that these Soldiers are good mechanics. I also do not doubt that these Soldiers know how to have a good time. However, I doubt their sanity.

It's Getting Hot Out Here

I went running this afternoon. That was a horrible mistake because 1) running sucks and 2) it's almost 100 degrees outside today. And me being me, of course I'm dehydrated. Is there any other way to be? I choose apple juice over water at all meals. I was sucking out there today in the hot, hot sun. I always try to let my mind wander away from the task at hand when it totally sucks (like the before mentioned running in the sun, but it also works for loading connexes in the sun, firing at a range in the sun, and sitting around wearing way too much heavy gear doing absolutely nothing in the sun-- and of course "sun" is interchangeable with rain, snow, wind and any other natural element that generally sucks, but the Army exposes you to all the time). Today my mind wandered to Basic Training...

Once upon a time, long, long ago in 2002 I attended Basic Combat Training at Fort Jackson, South Carolina. I attended this training from July to October. I guess I wanted to experience the suck in the heat and sun at full capacity first thing in my Army career.

It was unthinkably hot. Words can't even describe how hot and humid my days were. All the running, jumping and climbing trees while wearing camouflage face paint and carrying a weapon. My poor little lazy civilian body didn't know what hit it! But through out all the crap I went through at Basic, one thing stands out beyond the rest. Army training is kind of like girl scout camp and prison mixed together. So there was singing, oh yes, singing to go along with our training to kill. We'd have to recite all these incredibly embarrassing chants before we did almost anything, like doing a right face, or coming to attention. That being said...

When a Drill Sergeant would yell, "DRINK WATER!" or "TAKE A KNEE!" that meant (the obvious) get down on one knee and drink some freaking water because it's hot. Before we could drink the hot water out of our canteens we had to chant the most embarrassing thing ever. In the summer of 2002 Nelly's song, "Hot in Herre" was a hit. Go ahead and recall that gem... now that it's stuck in your head. This is what we had to yell out:

It's getting hot out here,

So take out your canteen,

I am getting so hot,

I want to drink some water!

I was singing that to myself on my run through the seventh circle of Hell this afternoon. I sometimes wonder how our Drill Sergeants could be so cruel to make us do that. They were out there suffering in the heat as well, so I suppose that was just a way to keep themselves entertained.

Me circa 2002: I was just an 18 year old baby!

JSS Muthana

Baghdad has a lot of wall art. I'm not going to call it graffiti because I think it's supposed to be there. And the drawings would be super weird if they were gang affiliated in any way. I saw one today that I was lucky enough to get a picture with!

We were at JSS Muthana (Joint Security Station) taking care of some business this afternoon. US Forces gave over JSS Muthana in May 2009 to the Iraqi Police. We're still there, but they run the show. We're basically just there to correct them when they're wrong and to teach them things they don't understand. And if shit hits the fan, we're there to save their asses. Basically, the US Army has turned into the parents of a troubled teenager.

So the compound is crawling with all sorts of Iraqi Army and Iraqi Police. All of them in a different uniform from different eras. I love it when I see the dudes who wear pointy dress shoes with their combat uniforms instead of boots. I swear, one of these days I'm going to bust out some heels and parade around in full combat load like that. I'd probably break both my ankles, but it would be worth it to show them how ridiculous they look. Women are a rarity out there in Muthana. I got stared down by these dudes like I was Pamela Anderson. Once I started miming the wall art, laughing and cracking jokes, they disappeared. Apparently women are still to be seen and not heard around these parts.

6 Months

I'm pretty much over this stupid country and this stupid war. I'm not even going to call this "war". We're merely occupying at this point. This is basically just one big waste of my 26th year of life. I was looking at pictures from before I deployed and now I'm poopy-faced! I miss having fun, and having time off work. I miss drinking and partying and boys! I want to wear my hair down, fuck this stupid little bun on the back of my head! Very vainly I miss wearing make up and cute outfits. Let's face it, ACUs don't look good on women. I want to feel pretty again.

Today is the 6 month mark of my deployment. Yup, 6 months ago I was standing in the pouring rain in the parking lot of the barracks at Fort Lewis, Washington, kissing my boyfriend goodbye. Totally literally too, because he decided a few weeks later he couldn't "handle" my absence for a year and dumped my ass. Who does that!? The losers I like to date, that's who!

The worst part of this being the 6 month point is that there are still 6 more months to go. I'm only half done with this crap. Sigh. I'm going to continue to look at pictures of me having fun with friends...

Hmm, all the pictures I've chosen to represent me having fun are me while drunk. Hmm... so I'll quit being a Debbie-Downer now and get back to the soldier shit, hooah.

I can Hear!

I'm in the middle of scheduling all my appointments for my airborne physical. I want to go to airborne school to learn how to jump out of airplanes when I get back to the States. There is a long series of things you have to do to make sure you are physically sound enough to do that. Yesterday I took my hearing test.

In case you've never taken a hearing test, I'll tell you about it. You are stuffed in a tiny "sound proof" room. You put on a head set and grab the cord with the clicker on the end and you sit as still and quiet as a church mouse (are church mice really more quiet than mice who choose different dwellings to infest?). The head set magnifies every sound in the booth. I don't think it's supposed to, but it sure does. And if you're in a booth with other people, every movement they make is painfully distracting and loud. Luckily, I was the only one in the booth this time.

The test begins. A recording of a very serious man explains the test: push the button when you hear the tones. You start hearing very faint tones in one ear at a time. I always start anticipating the tone and I frantically hit the button at the slightest suggestion that one went off. The sound of my breathing was incredibly distracting, so I sat there, slack-jawed mouth-breather style to hear better. Out of no where a recorded very serious woman told me there were no tones being sounded but I was pushing the button. She might as well have said, "Hey dumbass, quit being trigger happy!" I thought I failed the test... mostly because that lady told me I was a loser 3 times during the test. But I ended up doing really well! I can hear! That recorded lady was just a bitch!

Later, I was in the chow hall minding my own business. I was looking at a display of individual serving sized salad dressings. I chose fat free French dressing. As I was reaching for it, a complete and total stranger yelled in my ear, "QUEER!" I didn't know my assailant, nor did he make eye contact with me. Basically I was a victim of a random drive-by insult. I guess he thought my salad dressing decision was poor. The only thing I'm sure of, was that I heard him clearly.