Which Way to the Lions?

Sorry for the dry spell folks.  I got called in to deal with some trouble overseas.  Fortunately, ole Hosn-, I mean, the center of the trouble saw reason after I set him down for some neighborly talk, and, well, there's some hope now.  I certainly didn't expect to get lost in my own territory on my return though.  I mean, one minute I'm walking through the door looking for that drink from the Little Lady, and the next thing I know I'm being attacked by a polar bear.

You read that right, a polar bear.  It seems my Buddy is quite the fan of Diego. Now, I don't have anything wrong with that.  You could do worse than him, I mean, have you seen some of the other options out there? Anyhow, in addition to being a fan, Buddy also likes to act out parts of the shows.  One time, he ran down the street with a shovel in his hand yelling, "To the Rescue! Al Rescate!" on his way to help a neighbor dig out her driveway.  Uber cool, but it doesn't stop there.

He's also taken to being various animals.  The fun part is never knowing which animal will show up to dinner and which will show up at bedtime.  One time, we had a polar bear at dinner, a lion cub outside, and a puppy dog at bed time.  Don't get me wrong, I like animals, but do you have any idea how tough it is to keep food on hand for that many different animals.  And let's not forget the dinosaur.  It is quite an adventure though, never knowing if I'll be gobbled up by a dinosaur, tackled by a polar bear, or run down by a lion.  So far I've managed to escape each encounter more or less in one piece, but who knows if I'll be this lucky in the future.  It's almost as hairy as that time when I had to troubleshoot over in Eastern Europe back in the 80s.

Oh, and I'm still waiting for that dang drink.

The First

I've been told that talking about mistakes or difficult experiences can make it easier to deal with the memories or help learn from them.  Not that I'm saying I need any type of support or anything.  I'm just thinkin' it might be nice to share a recent experience so that others may, um, learn from it.  Yeah, that's it, just sharing a story around a campfire with the guys, that's all.  Well, here goes.

I was on a mission of extreme importance.  My objectives:

1. Infiltrate hostile territory and establish a forward position
2. Elude detection while waiting for the principal target to arrive
3. Take down the principal target
4. Exfiltrate undetected and return to home base for debriefing

Intel indicated that the target maintained a random schedule but was typically on the move in the early hours just past dawn.  The night before the mission, I double-checked all my equipment, prepped for transport, and caught some shut-eye because I knew I'd be on the move very early.  The last thing I did before sack time was check the weather.  Great - biting wind, frost and snow, and frigid temperatures.  At 0'dark hundred, transport dropped me a safe distance from the suspected transit routes of the target. I activated my thermal units and began the long trek to my chosen vantage point.  Intel had told me the area was clear of civilians . . . Intel was wrong.  It was dicey, but I managed to work my way past them without alerting them to my presence.  Have you ever tried to quietly sneak past someone through snow?  It ain't easy.  You wouldn't believe how much it can crunch and squeak.  Yes SQUEAK gosh darn it.

Anyhow, I reached my position and settled in for a long wait.  While Intel may have gotten something wrong, the weather guys were right on.  The temps and wind made it colder than a witch's . . . well, you know.  Thankfully, I was prepared and trained for those conditions.  Suddenly, the hair on the back of my neck stood up.  I just knew without moving that I was being watched.  I stilled my breathing, remained motionless, and waited.  Then I saw him.  I knew the target was devious, but I hadn't expected them to use spies that young and small.  He just sat there at the edge of my vision looking down in my direction.  I heard him reporting over his com link, but I couldn't understand the code.  He eventually moved on, and I could only hope he wouldn't come back.  I knew better than to get lazy though.  Where there was one, there was bound to be more.

Sure enough, I started seeing advance scouts moving into the area.  They always came individually and at random, but I knew why they were there.  One of them came within 30 feet of me and sat down.  I willed his eyes to look elsewhere, and it must have worked, because he too moved on.  I had barely taken a few breaths when I saw her show up.  She had to be their lead scout.  A real vixen she was, and she knew her business.  I watched her scout the edges of the zone first, taking her time.  One time, I lost sight of her.  I almost panicked, not knowing where she was, when I caught slight movement behind some tall grass.  Yep, it was her.  I watched as she slowly sat up and stared right at me.  She stayed that way for what seemed like 15 minutes, but was probably only 3 minutes.  I was starting to think there was a mole in my organization, when she slowly wandered off.  I immediately heard traffic as she relayed her report which was followed by other scouts reporting in.

Based on all the chatter, I knew my target must be nearing the area. Sure enough, aerial recon started in earnest.  Flight after flight of scout craft winged overhead.  They were so close I could hear the wind rushing across their wings.  There must have been 50, 60, maybe even 70 of them.  I thought, "Oh crud, they know I'm here.  There's no way they can't know.  Not with all that recon."  They must have missed me though.  None of the SigInt I intercepted seemed to indicate that they had located me or anything else suspicious.  And then it all went quiet.

Sure enough, there came the target and escort.  I quickly confirmed the identity of the principal target, acquired my sight picture, adjusted for wind and elevation, and waited for the right moment.  Suddenly, the target and escorts all focused elsewhere.  This was it.  I engaged the target, and she dropped.  The escort panicked and scattered in all directions.  Guess they weren't as well trained as I thought.  I waited for things to calm down and approached to confirm the results.  Quietly, deliberately, I crept up on her.  I got within 15 feet of her, and she took off!!!  She'd been playing possum to lure me out in the open!  She was gone before I could do anything.  I quickly made it back to my position, gathered my gear, and set out to tail her.  Unfortunately, the need for stealth hindered my efforts, and I lost her after several hours.

I exfiltrated cleanly, and my it back to Command.  In my debriefing report, I laid out all the facts as well as my own analysis of why I failed.  Command didn't make a big deal about it, but it's hard to let go of the first failed mission in your history.

Well, that's my tale for this support group, I mean, campfire.  Now it's someone else turn.  I just want some marshmallows and cocoa.

The Balancing Act

Being a parent, even one as uber manly and cool as I, is definitely not without it's challenges.  I know that every parent out there faces the same challenges that I do, or at least similar ones.  You know what I'm talking about - what's the right age for the first sip of Wild Turkey, how do you know when he's ready to light a fire himself, what's the right combination of timing, coaching and self-discovery so she can fully appreciate the total awesomeness of not only smoking a brisket, but then slicing it with perfection... You know, the typical challenges.  Oh, well, yeah, then there's the challenge of right from wrong, manners, courtesy, tying shoes, sound financial habits, and being happy, productive and well-adjusted.  One of the challenges I'm dealing with right now is around the outdoors and shooting sports.

I know, I know.  How could I possibly be facing any challenges with that, especially since I'm the Uber Manly Provider?  Well, as difficult as it is for me to admit, it's true.  While my formative years were fairly well rounded  involving reading, sports, Scouting, fishing, and occasional summers at the family farm or Christmas tree farm, there was an unfortunate hole around hunting and shooting in my education.  While I'm very interested in both now and spend quite a bit of time in the outdoors (aka hunting), I'm challenged on how to balance Buddy's growing interest with the practical side of things (No Buddy, don't pretend to shoot dogs).

So, what do I do?

I take Buddy out whenever he's interested in going with me.  On those trips, we identify animal tracks and um, other sign, trees, talk about what we see, fish, make casts of tracks, and collect feathers and other treasures.  I teach him safety and talk about what I do when I'm out without him.  The Little Woman and I make sure he knows what's okay when he's playing and what's not okay.  (For some reason though, she doesn't seem to think that he's old enough for his own Red Ryder 200-shot carbine action range model air rifle.)  It helps that I have family and several friends who've been hunting and shooting for a long time, and that I'm a hunter safety instructor.  I know that I will teach him the best that I can and that he will at least know how to be safe if he chooses to walk this path with me.

For now though, I must attend to another challenge we've been working on together and check to see if he's rebuilt that carburetor yet.  

Time to Worry Yet?

So there I am, walking in the door having just gotten home from a 9 hour day at the office and a 1 hour commute.  The usual excitement happens - Buddy runs up and says, "Hi Daddy.  I wuv you."  Furry Beast (black lab) runs up with her tail wagging and practically knocking me over in her excitement to see me.  And the Little Woman greets me adoringly with, "Hi Honey.  How was your day?  You look tired.  Let me take your coat and get you a drink."  I smile and breathe a sigh of relief, glad to be home with my loving family.  Basking in this idyllic glow, I hear my beautiful bride say, "You'll never guess who Buddy said he's going to marry."  I smile, and say, "You, right?"  She responds with, "No, I've been replaced.  He's going to marry Dragon.  He loves her."

Scccrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeccccccchhhhhhhhhhhh


I open my eyes and reality sets in - toys on the floor, shoes everywhere, Buddy crawling into his castle, Furry Beast licking herself, my coat on the floor, and no drink in sight.  I look at the Little Woman and say, "What?"

Apparently, he is Sir Knight and Furry Beast is Dragon.  He loves her and wants to marry her. I think to myself, why can't he just want to marry his mother like normal 4 year-olds, or even the older woman two doors down (she's 6)?  It turns out that he watched Shrek 4 the other day with friends, and Donkey apparently married Dragon (haven't seen it yet) because Donkey loves Dragon.  Well, since Buddy loves Furry Beast, . . . there's a correlation there somewhere.  Trust me, I know this is all part of being a 4-year old and having an active imagination.  Buuuuuuutttttt . . .

Then there's the whole wearing Mommy's heels and necklaces.  And then the other day, he apparently said he wanted his toenails painted pink.  Now, he's had his toenails painted gun metal gray, cold iron blue, OD green and other appropriate colors before, but PINK?  I mean really now.  I've gotta draw the line somewhere.  I find myself thinking, "Maybe I should take him on a tour of a steel mill, take him hunting, or take him to a frat party or car show. Definitely time to get him an official Red Ryder 200-shot carbine action range model air rifle."

All of this flashed through my lightning quick mind (even without the lubrication of a pre-dinner drink) in the blink of an eye.  I looked over at my Little Buddy and saw him running at me with his arms wide open.  I caught him just as he leapt into my lap and said, "Daddy, I want to hunt wif you."  I thought, "Eh, who cares if he wants to marry Dragon, wears necklaces, and wants his toenails painted.  As long as someone else pays for the rehearsal dinner, and he learns to make sure his nails don't clash with camo in the woods, it doesn't really matter."

Now, if the Little Woman would just bring me that drink.

For Your Consideration

Welcome to my world, or at least my take on the world around me.  I’m not going to promise any intellectual insights, coarse humor, biting commentary, or political diatribe.  All I will offer is one person’s perspectives on anything from daily life to parenting to hunting and the outdoors to whatever strikes my fancy (including the occasional political stuff).  As a sample of what you will read, here’s some background on me.

I’m your basic “Heinz 57” of an American – a little of this, a dash of that, and, just for kicks and grins, a sprinkle of some other stuff too.  And I don’t just mean that in terms of my ancestry.  I’d say that applies to my political, religious, and social views as well.  Of course, those who know me will undoubtedly differ with me and say that I’m pretty easy to define, but I still manage to say or do something that surprises the little woman from time to time.  (Gasp, he didn’t just say, “the little woman” did he?) You bet your sweet bippy I did.  Does that mean I’m “sexist”?  I have no idea as I’d say it probably depends on the definition you chose to apply.  Also, I don’t think it does because saying that about her is more ironic than anything if you know her.

Let’s see, where was I … oh yeah, background.

I am married, have a son, and in the fourth decade of being (Ugh).  I’ve lived in various parts of the U.S. and may live in even more before my time is up.  I don’t have a crystal ball to know for sure.  In my time, I’ve been a fry cook, cashier, toy salesman, musician, teacher, maintenance worker, janitor, trainer, project manager, instructional designer and other various and sundry things. 

I like to think that I have a sense of humor. (What? “Sweet bippy” didn’t make you snarf or milk come out your nose?)  It may not be for everyone, and that’s okay.  Not everyone else’s sense of humor is for me either.  Then again, my sister did tell my wife, “He’s your problem now” on our wedding day.  Wonder what she meant by that.  Oh, and sometimes, I appear to write in a “stream of consciousness” kind of way.

Did someone just say, “Get to the point.  Why are you doing this?”  Good question.  I don’t automatically think that the world is just waiting to hear what I have to say.  In fact, I usually keep my thoughts to myself until I just can’t stand it or someone asks politely for them.  I’m mainly doing this to see what happens.  I’d like to see what kind of response I get to this and what I can learn from others who choose to visit and leave a comment.  Which brings me to… you.

What I ask of you, gentle reader, is that you leave thoughts of your own when you visit or pass through.  Should anything I write spark a thought, comment, recollection, or totally random thought, please feel free to share it with me and other visitors to this space.  All I ask is civility and restraint from hurtful or inflammatory comments. Oh, and if you like what you read here or are amused by it, feel free to share it around.  There's plenty here for everyone.

Well, I think that’s all I have for right now.  I’m not sure how often I’ll post something here.  I could be on a roll and post every day for a few days and then fall off the wagon and not post anything for a few.  It all depends… on life, the universe, and… everything.