posted @ 06:30...

I figure that since nobody who knows me actually reads this, it would be safe to let loose a little of the eager hopefulness that our home has been experiencing for the past few weeks. My wife and I have decided to conceive a child. We're not pregnant yet, but we hope to be soon. [We want a boy first. Female children who are born first, statistically tend to be bossy.]

So we've been reading all over the web and scouring the nearest Barnes & Noble for all the pre-conception material we can find. We're both already taking the necessary vitamins and eating the necessary foods, and shunning the caffeine & alcohol. We're going to do everything in our power to do this right physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I am really lucky to have a wife like the one I've got. Blessed, really. She has been working with kids for something like 12 years. In fact, the first kid she ever babysat recently graduated from high school. She knows what she's doing. In fact, she recently started her own company. She not only teaches music classes to little kids, but also offers consulting for parents who need knowledge & wisdom about raising their own. So it's about time someone like her had her own kids. With her as their mother, they'll turn out amazing in spite of their goofy father.

I can't wait.

posted @ 06:10...

Did you ever draft a blog entry on paper before you actually got to a computer to type it in? I had this cool blog all ready to type, about how my parents used to be fire lookouts in Northwestern Montana back in the late 60's. But once I had it written out on paper, I lost the urge to go type it into my blog. It seems most of the fun in writing a blog is... writing it. I like the fact that someone, somewhere might visit & read this stuff, but it turns out (I finally realized) that I don't do it for the end product. Getting my thoughts out of my head is therapy. Why would I need therapy? I don't, but I like writing, and it's fun to get the thoughts out of my head. They take up a lot of space.

So my parents were fire lookouts back in the late 60's when they were first married. They lived for a month or two in a little mountain-top cabin. Their food & water was delivered via helicopter or horseback. They counted lightning strikes, and tried to sleep as two other fire lookouts played chess for hours over the two-way radio. This is just the stuff I remember. I'm sure my dad could tell you more. He's a great storyteller.

posted @ 06:53...

I just read my own blog last night for the first time in a long time. I used to be a half-way decent writer. Not that my life has been real exciting, but at least it sounded interesting. And so, here I write once again, simply because this thing needs to be updated from time to time.

The latest news is... Zero Day at Air Assault School, also known as One of the Most Embarrassing Moments of My Life. (For those who don't know, Air Assault is where you rapel from helicopters, tie Humvees to them, etc.) It's important to keep in mind that I have a deadly fear of heights. It's also important to keep in mind that I was never asked if I wanted to go to Air Assault school. But this is the Army, and I am a private; therefore, I do what I'm told to do. So I showed up for the first day of the school. The packing list is crucial. You need to arrive with a myriad of items packed in your rucksack, all clearly outlined on the infamous packing list. I had all my stuff, so I was good. Some guys didn't, so they got cut right away.

The obstacle course is what got me. Mind you, I didn't cry as I clung, frozen, most of the way up the "confidence climb." I guess I didn't have enough confidence. Or energy. Or balls. I simply became dizzy & short of breath, and could not lift myself to the next rung on this giant ladder. Of course, the instructors are yelling at me, and other students are staring. I came down, determined to collect my wits and try again. On the second try, I got a rung higher, but froze up again. I finally decided that this just wasn't for me, and it simply couldn't be worth the few lousy promotion points that an Air Assault patch would bring. There are other ways to get promotion points, I reasoned, so Air Assault school could "ram it," as my buddy Mick used to say.

So I climbed down, gathered my carefully packed ruck, and started walking back to the parking area. In times like this, you get the feeling you're all alone. As I approached the parking lot, though, I saw several guys sitting around. One looked at me and commented, "You didn't make it either, huh?" Turns out, his superiors made him go to the school too, despite his fear of heights. So, I didn't feel like quite such a loser. As much as I try to make myself believe I didn't care about Air Assault school, it still feels horrible to have failed, especially so early in the game.

So, on to other things. I found a funny quote today: "If we could just get everyone to close their eyes and visualize world peace for an hour, imagine how serene and quiet it would be until the looting started."