Bittersweet Beginnings

I think the phrase of the day today is: "Equal parts excited and terrified."

Today marks the beginning of a new adventure for me... and yes, I see it as an adventure. The Army is going to be good for me. I'm going to get my ass handed to me on a regular basis for the next several months, but in the long run, it's the best thing that I could ever do for myself. I just hope I'm ready...

And I hope that I don't freeze to death wintering in Missouri. Only time will tell, I suppose. If I come back missing digits, you'll know why :)

Here is where I thank all the awesome people in my life, because I knew I'd cry if I tried to do it in person before I left, and I absolutely HATE to cry. Mel and Scott... thank you so very much for opening your home to me and making me feel welcome in every way possible. You are the greatest friends a person could ask for, and I'm going to miss you more than I could say. Dave and Chris, thank you for your friendship and voices of reason, and for your never ending encouragement and support... I'm going to need a lot of both in the next few months, I think. Eric, Dustin, and Brian... thank you for being honest and candid with the warnings about what I'm getting myself into. Without them, I don't think I'd be nearly prepared enough to do this. Josh... well, he gets his own set of thank-yous... but they're a little too personal for my blog... sorry folks! Suzanne, Rachel, and Alexis... you'll all always be my best girls from home, even if we don't see each other nearly often enough these days... expect lots of letters -- even in the Army, I'm still gonna need my girl time!

To my family... you get your own paragraph, LOL. You have been my sounding board, my voices of reason, and my saving grace. I'm so very lucky to have you, and I know I don't say it nearly often enough, but I love you. James... we haven't always gotten along, but you've always been my hero. You are my big brother, after-all. Amy... you are such a perfect addition to our family, and I'm so happy to get to call you my sister-in-law. Baby Charlotte... it's really amazing how much love I can feel for someone so tiny. I'm sorry I'll miss the first several months, but I'll be thinking of you everyday. Aunt Carrie adores you, munchkin. It was love at first sight :) Mom and Dad... can't say enough how much you mean to me... I'll write often, and call when I can. Try not to worry, and trust that I'll be fine. This is my best adventure yet! :)

My recruiter is picking me up in a half an hour, and then I'm off to the races, I guess you could say. Checking in at the Recruiting Office, then heading to Harrisburg to the airport, where I'll fly to St. Louis, MO by way of Cleveland, OH. Then once I land in MO, I'll have a cozy 3hr bus ride with my Drill Sergeant to base. And so it begins...

Wish me luck... this is going to be one heck of and adventure... I'll be sure to come back with some stories!

Charming Chaos

That's pretty much the essence of my life these days. I wouldn't want it any other way.

I'm almost finished at my old apartment. Everything has been moved out -- now it's just a matter of cleaning, and I should be able to completely finish that up on Friday. It's been nice to not have to rush through it -- it be able to just take a few hours here and there and work on it, rather than making myself crazy trying to do it all in 1 day or less. Thank you, thank you, thank you to Mel, Scott, Josh, Amy and everyone else that has helped with this madness... and an extra-big thank you to Mel and Scott who have opened their home to me. I really couldn't ask for better friends.

Josh... he's been amazing. Funny that he gets dumped in my lap now, when we're both setting off on new adventures. He ships out tomorrow -- granted he'll only be gone four months, instead of six like me. But it's been a stressful couple weeks for the both of us, and though it may have been crazy to get so wrapped up in this right now, I'm pretty sure that I couldn't have helped it if I had wanted to. I would have been ready for the booby-hatch by now, if he hadn't been here to listen and balance me out. We fit. Odd, I never thought it would be that way for me.

I've had my last day at the prison -- and it couldn't have come at a better time, either. There are a lot of really strange things going on there, and I'm hoping that by the time I get back from military leave, it will have all blown over and been sorted out. I was getting sucked in to the middle of a lot of it, and it was ripping my guts out. Still burns, in fact. I just hope that everyone gets what they need out of this, and that it doesn't completely tear my shift apart. Only time will tell.

Tonight is going to be bittersweet -- and I think that's why I find myself at the keyboard right now. It's Josh's last night in town, and when I asked him if he wanted to do anything special, he said that he just wanted a quiet night by the fire with me. So, beer is bought, logs are split, and a the weather couldn't be more cooperative. It's going to be really hard to leave him in the questionably capable hands of Sgt. Pamphile in the morning... but such is life. Twelve days it will be my turn...

Tomorrow is a day-trip to Gettysburg with friends... wandering the town during the day, and ghost tours for the Halloween season in the evening. It should by a good time, and the perfect distraction. So, yay Gettysburg!

Friday is the last of the cleaning, afternoon adventure with a girlfriend, dinner with Scott and wine night with the Knepps. Saturday is oddly open, and I may spend it doing absolutely nothing, LOL. Sunday is lunch with Crisanne and packing. Monday is driving to NH... yeah, busy few days ahead -- I'll do my best to keep you posted, even though I've been really bad at it lately.

Making Headway

Wow... what a whirlwind couple of weeks...

I have signed my papers, and am almost completely packed. I'll finish this week, move out this weekend, and do my damndest to enjoy my last few weeks as a civilian.

I'm thriving in this state, in some odd, bizarre way. It's almost as if the chaos of the moving is giving me an outlet for the emotional turmoil this life-change is bringing me. I thank God for it, and wonder what the hell I'm going to do for an outlet when I'm done.

There's a boy... unexpected, and uncharacteristic, and completely what I've needed. I'm blissfully off-balance, and intimidated as fuck. And I love it.

I'm happy. I'm ready for this. Bring it :)

Where has the time gone??

Holy cow... it's October already?? And I haven't posted a blog in a whole month?? WTF????

Ok... things are absolute chaos. It's ridiculous. Things with the Army are well underway... in fact, I sign my papers Monday, my last day of work at the prison is October 13th, and I report at basic training on November 5th. In the meantime, I'm packing up everything I own. Have I mentioned how much I absolutely HATE moving??

So... that's life. Well, the really short and condensed version, anyway. I'll try to be better about updating in the next month before the blog goes on Military Hiatus.

::Yawn::

I should be a lot more tired than I am. Like a fool, I stayed on to work 11-7 last night, and come about 4am, I was fighting to stay awake. I paced in the Rec Yard, chatted on the phone, and read old emails to keep my mind going. When it came time to drive home, I called my mom to chat, so I wouldn’t zonk out at the wheel.

I hit the shower before hitting the sheets – something about 16 hours in prison always makes me feel dirty, LOL. But when I fell into bed, I think I was asleep before my head even fit the pillow. I had been awake for almost 24 hours.

Four hours later, I was wide awake and irritated. I had time for 2 more hours of sleep, but I knew it wasn’t going to happen. So, I got up, made coffee, and sat down to Redbubble.

Low and behold, I placed in the Top Ten in three more challenges. So, my day started off cheerily, despite the limited sleep. Here are the photos:

Colorful Quiet placed 5th out of 51 entries in the September Avatar Challenge.

Solitude Falls placed 6th out of 21 entries in the Outstanding Orange Challenge.

Autumn Splendour placed 9th out of 17 entries in the Fall Challenge Challenge.

As you can see... my autumn images seem to be doing fairly well, LOL... Now if I can get the rest of my portfolio up to snuff...

I’m back at work now, and I’m a little rough around the edges, but I’ll get through the shift. The unit I’m on can be annoying, but I think they know that I’m in no mood for bullshit today, and they’ve been staying away from the desk. It makes me laugh, because if they used that intuition on the street, they probably wouldn’t be in prison to begin with.

Well, off I go. Perhaps I’ll write another post later. I may need something to keep me conscious.

Anticipating Vacation

September is my favorite time of year at home, so I’m really excited that I was able to get time off for vacation then. There is so much that I love about home that I’ve missed so much, and now that I’m down to less than two weeks till my trip, I’m anxious.

Oh, the things I love about home in September…

The nights are cold – you’d have to close the windows or toss an extra blanket on the bed at night. And you’ll get your first frosts then – not killing frosts, but light one – and despite them the days are fairly balmy, usually in the 70’s, but you can feel a chill on the northern breeze. All of the summer tourists have gone home by then, and the fall leaf peeper tourists haven’t come up yet, so you don’t have to share the area with idiot out-of-towners.

I’m looking forward to getting up early to drive the 20 minutes to the beach to run… and it will be chilly enough that I’ll be in shorts and a hoodie, and I’ll cringe when the surf splashes my feet, because the water will only be about 55 degrees. I’m looking forward to apple picking with my mamma, and helping my brother and Amy get things ready for the new baby. I’m anxious to do barn chores with my dad, and have afternoon tea with my grandmother. And my boys – oh, how I’ve missed them. There will be drunken ridiculous with the cops I used to work with. They’ve already called my mother and gotten permission to crash on her couch a few nights. And adventures with my girls… the town will be shaking its head and clucking its tongue at the shenanigans, I’m sure. They usually do, at any rate.

Yeah, I’m ready to go home. Twelve days. I’ll make it. :)

My New Addiction

So… I have a new addiction. As if I wasn’t already hooked strongly enough on my photography, I now have something in my life that is making me borderline obsess over it. It’s a website. Redbubble is my new love.

Jen got me hooked. I blame her. And the addiction is spreading like wildfire. I got Suzie hooked, and Scott started his own page there. It’s ridiculous. I’ve only been on the site for a little over a week, and I’ve already sold one piece, been featured several times, and a placed in the top ten on a challenge. It’s addicting.

And a photographer that I have long admired, John de Bord, has become a fan of MY work, which is pretty much the biggest compliment ever. I’m thrilled.

So, attached to my page here, you will find a widget that links to my site on Redbubble. Please feel free to stop by and browse :)

Adjusting

Well, I’m getting back to a routine…

Suzie went home to NH last week. The time since then has been a little strange. I got very used to having her here, and even though I’ve lived alone for the better part of 7 years, things felt a little off once she was gone. Gizmo missed her when she left, too. He sat in front of the door to the apartment and waited for her to come back in for almost an hour. And when she didn’t, he curled up on the couch, stared at the door and pouted. He spent the next several days mad at me – he’d leave the room when I came into it, and would sit with his back to me all the time. He’s come around – the days I went to work and he was alone, he was starving for attention as soon as I came in the door, and the desire to be petted clearly outweighed the resentment at Suzie being gone.

I spent the majority of last night and this morning setting my house to rights. My week of working daylight for CERT Training left my house in chaos. I had lived out of a duffel bag and a lunch box all week, and the state of affairs in the apartment were a testament to that -- Laundry left wherever it landed, dishes piled in the sink, and cat hair everywhere. So, I cleaned. It made me feel better.

And today, life falls back to it’s normal rhythm. I’m back on 3-11 shift starting today, and it feels good to get back into the swing of things. Tomorrow I’ll go back to the gym for the first time in what feels like forever, and I’ll start counting down the days till my vacation – 2 weeks exactly until I get to take off on an adventure. I’m looking forward to taking my time driving home – taking the very scenic route and driving up the coast the whole way. It will take me a couple days, as I plan to stop often for pictures and such. There are some lighthouses along the way that I want to hit, and a couple wineries in Rhode Island that I want to visit. After a wonderfully full and busy summer, I’m looking forward to some time to myself with my camera. This trip is exactly what I need.

This week was crazy – in a really good way. I had tactical training for the prison, and with its completion, officially became a member of our CERT Team. CERT (Corrections Emergency Response Team) is essentially the prison equivalent of SWAT. The training was fun – firearms, and tactical maneuvers. I qualified on every round of weapons testing on the first try. I think I surprised a few people – myself included. And the officers I went through with were great, and it was nice to get to spend some time with the officers from other shifts that I don’t get to see as much of. All-in-all, the week was a success. Exhausting and painful, but a success.

Professional Discourtesy

The radio was on. Aromatic steam filtered out of the lid of my coffee mug. The window was down, and I smiled as I took my first hit of morning coffee and maneuvered single-handedly through the quiet streets of Bellefonte. The rough edges from my short, 2-hr night’s sleep were smoothing out. The hot shower a half-hour prior had nudged me into consciousness, and the time since had lessened the irritability and fogginess. I took another sip from my mug and sighed audibly with contentment, though there was no one to hear it but me. The coffee was taking the final steps to making me human.

As I made the corner near the metal plant, I saw headlights approaching in my rearview. I didn’t give it much thought, as I took another sip of coffee and enjoyed the morning breeze on my face. Then the blue lights came on.

I sighed again, this time with mild irritation, and set my cup in the console as I pulled over. There goes the day…

I had all the usual stuff ready when the officer came to my window – license, registration, proof of insurance, handgun permit, and badge. And, despite the early hour, and despite the patrol spotlight expertly aimed right at my sideview mirror and into my eyes, I smiled at the officer as I handed him my information. “You were going awfully fast for this time of day,” he said almost absently as he looked over the documents.

Really? Because its 2:45am, and there’s no one on the road. Would you rather I speed while following a school bus, with bumper-to-bumper oncoming traffic?? Despite my sarcastic inner commentary, I chose not to say anything aloud.

The officer gave me the once over. “Going anyplace in particular in such a hurry?” I had all I could do not to laugh, as I looked down at my corrections uniform.

“Ummm… work?” Really, I’m just driving around aimlessly in the middle of the night in my uniform because it’s so fucking stylish. Dumbass.

“Well, I’ll be right back.” And the officer went back to his car, and proceeded to spend the next 15 minutes running my information, all the while his spotlight is still shining in my eyes, and time is ticking down to making me dangerously close to being late for work. He finally returns to my vehicle, hands me my information back, and says, “Well, here you go. You really need to slow down. It’s only 35mph through here, and I clocked you doing 41mph”.

I smiled, and because my patience had worn thin, so had my ability to be nice. “Well, glad you’re being vigilant out here. Because you know, it’s a high traffic area and all.” Sarcasm dripped from my tone. Inside, my voice of reason winced. But my cheery mood had been darkened by this particular cops lack of observation, and over-zealous need to pull people over for 6mph over the speed limit.

He just smiled, the sarcasm clearly going over his head. He gave me the once-over again, and suddenly something changed on his face. It was like he finally noticed the uniform, and made the connection. “Hey, you work at Centre County Prison, don’t you?”

I smiled sweetly. “Nope. I just like the uniform. Have a nice day.”

And so my morning started. I got to work on time, at the charming hour of 3am, and worked my four hours of overtime without incident. Now it’s time to see what the rest of the day brings…

Home Team Pride

Everyone marks time differently. Some mark it by days on the calendar, some by paychecks and holidays. But in the Blackwood/MacDonald residence? Here it is marked by two things, and two things only. Baseball season, and football season. For die-hard Red Sox and Patriot fans, nothing else matters.

So, the Sox aren’t having the most stellar season… it happens. No one appreciates the work behind winning if you never lose. And seeing as damn near half our line-up is sitting miserably on the Disabled List, our wins are much harder won than most. Tonight marks the last game in a 4-game series against the Yanks… and as always, our household is hoping for a win. So far so good – especially with Ellsberry finally off the DL and back in the game. Now, if we can keep Beckett from getting ejected tonight, it might just be a successful 9-innings.

And Thursday marks the first pre-season game for the Patriots, and it promises to be a good game, against the Saints at home in Gillette Stadium... It’s a new season, and hopefully a fresh start, with less injuries and less chaos than what came with last year’s endeavors. Suzie and I have all our fingers crossed for a season kicked-off right.

So, I'm an Addict... What of It??

So... people as a whole, I've found, are judgemental. I don't find this so much irritating as amusing -- mostly because people fail to see the irony that I see, and therefore it all becomes my own little private joke to enjoy.

I have a lifestyle that many don't understand. I choose to live at great distance from my family. I willingly go to prison for eight (and sometimes sixteen) hours a day. I run away when men fall in love with me, but still have an active and enjoyable sex life. I work out like a madwoman at every opportunity (and annoyingly, those opportunities aren't often enough these days). I drink coffee by truckload, and alcohol sparingly. I'm just as content to hike the Appalachain Trail as I am to lay on the beach, and I'm just as likely to wear high heels and short skirts as I am old holey jeans and my Red Sox cap -- and some days, I mix it up and wear the high heels with the Red Sox cap, which tends to raise eyebrows and turn heads. Both my personality and my lifestyle are a series of dicotomies that make me what I consider to be a unique and colorful individual. It works for me.

And of all the things I have mentioned above that are quirky, amusing, and in some cases downright weird, the thing that most people focus on is my addiction to the lifeblood of humanity: COFFEE.

My name is Carrie Blackwood, and I am addicted to coffee. What of it?

So what if it takes me several cups to really get functional in the morning. So what if throughout the day I take the time to enjoy another cup or two, to mellow myself out, or perk myself up. I could be addicted to heroin, or crack. I could be an adrenaline junkie, or an S&M addict that gets off on pain. Instead, I choose to enjoy my aromatic and flavorful happiness in a cup. And somehow that is more strange.

So, here's to you, Judges of My Lifestyle, as you look askance at me over your herbal tea. To you I raise my cup. My name is Carrie Blackwood, I'm a coffee addict, and I'm damn proud of it.

Jumpstart on My Day

Well... I'm up. And have been for almost 3 hours.

The last 24 hours have been a little ridiculous, and I was absolutely convinced that last night after my 12-hr work day, I would pass out like the dead when I crawled between the sheets. I was right. What I didn't count on was dreaming about work -- a dream so disturbing that it woke me out of said dead sleep at 4:30am in a cold sweat.

I couldn't fall back asleep after my dream. So, I got dressed and laced up my running shoes. I did a little over 2 miles through the residential areas of downtown Bellefonte. For about a mile or so I ran along Spring Creek, which was really nice. My time wasn't fantastic -- but it was dark, some of the route wasn't lit that well, and the sidewalks had holes that would swallow a volkswagen. So, I erred on the side of caution. When I finished the run, and stretched in my living room, I was hoping to crawl back into bed. But no. The endorphins kicked in, and I was wide awake. So, I did some work on the yoga mat, then hit the shower. Now I'm on my second cup of coffee, and am making a plan for this day that I've gotten an abnormally early start on.

So... off I go to walk to the garage and pick up my car -- it got inspected yesterday, but I had to work till 11pm, so I couldn't pick it up when they were done with it. But, they should be opening their doors about now, so I'll get that and hit the grocery store before the usual Saturday madness sets in. Off I go...

Wildflowers

Today has been one of those days that summer post cards are made from. Bright sunshine, big fluffy clouds, slight breeze -- and clear air, without humidity for the first time in weeks. In appreciation, I felt the need to go for a drive.

As I wound my way through the central Pennsylvania countryside with the windows down, and the music turned up, I smiled. Farmers were cutting hay, and bundling wheat. The air carried the sweetness of timothy grass baking in the sunshine, and the slightly tangy scent of tended earth. It smelled like home.

I followed the meandering back country roads until I came to Penns Creek. I pulled off onto the shoulder, and stepped out of the car. The air still carried the smells from the farms up on the ridge, but there it blended with the smells of moss and wildflowers. I climbed up on the hood of my car, and stretched back against the windshield, and let the sun warm my skin. I looked to my right, down at the creek bank, and saw pretty purple-blue wildflowers dancing in the breeze -- and with them, a memory danced across my mind.

I was almost eight, and I had begged to go. So, there I sat, on the bench seat next to my father, as we lumbered across the hayfield in the 1963 GMC flat bed, that my father had just finished playing Frankenstein with to get to run without skipping. There was no air conditioning in the old relic, and the summer heat had collected and settled in the cab without mercy. Sweat beaded on my father's shaved head, and had my sun-bleached blond curls sticking to my neck. I didn't particularly notice.

We pulled up alongside a small caravan of jeeps, and pick-up trucks. I scrambled out of the GMC and ran to jump into the arms of Dave, my father's friend that I absolutely adored. "Well hey there, Carrie Jo. What are you doing here?"

"I'm goin' hayin'!" I grinned like the Cheshire Cat, showing off two big dimples, and a missing front tooth.

Dave feigned shock. "You are?! Well I don't know... you're awful little yet."

I scrambled out of his arms and to the ground, put my small hands on my hips and looked at him over my glasses, making my best attempt at looking defiant. "Nuh-uh. I'm almost eight. James was eight when he got to go," referring to my older brother, who looked on with disdain from the his seat on the tailgate of Dave's truck.

"Is that so? Well, I guess you're big enough then. You want to hang with me?"

I thought it over for a moment. "Okay. What are we doing?"

Dave smiled. "Watch and learn, kiddo."

So, I did. My father drove the old Oliver tractor, with the new John Deere bailer behind it. I watched as he spit out a bale, then stopped, checked the weight of the bale and the tension of the strings, then got back on and spit out another, repeating the process several times. I asked Dave what he was doing. "He's making sure that everything works like it should, and that they're the size he wants. Each crop's different, kid, depending on the rain, and the weather. Have to adjust everytime." What Dave didn't say, and I didn't realize until years later when I learned how to do the adjustments myself, was that Dad was also making sure the bales were light enough that I could move them around a little. These bales were for feed for our own cattle, so we could get away with making them smaller and lighter than those that we would sell to other farms.

"Alright, kid. You ready?" I just grinned. "Okay, now we go, pile 'em up into stacks. Six or eight to a stack."

I took off at a run. I watched Dave grab a bale by the strings, walk up to another and set it next to it. I put my little hands around the twine of the nearest bale to me, and lifted. The bale came up off the ground, but due to my height, still bounced off my shins. I took little steps, and got the bale to the stack Dave had started and put mine next to it. I looked up in triumph, as Dave messed my hair with his bear paw of a hand. "Nicely done, kiddo. Off we go to the next."

And so the day went. Dave and the other guys were moving four or more bales to my one, but I didn't care. And neither did they. Eventually, the field was baled, and everything was stacked. We sat in the shade at the fenceline, and guzzled water from plastic jugs. The sweat had hay chaffe and dust clinging to our clothes and our skin. I loved it.

My father came over and settled himself in the grass beside me. "Well, what'dya think?"

"When can I drive the tractor?" My father laughed, his big voice booming across the field.

We collected the stacks next. My father stood on the flat bed of the GMC, and Dave handed me up to him. "Now, Jo, you wanted to come, and this part is very important, so you have to pay attention. We're gonna stack the hay up here, and you're gonna help, but you have to be careful. Watch the edge of the bed, and don't slip on the chaffe." He set me down, and my brother climbed in the driver's seat of the truck. "James!" Dad hollered as the engine roared to life. He stuck his head out the driver's side window. "You take it easy now, you hear? You dump the load, you're picking it up yourself." James grinned and ducked back in the truck.

James let the clutch out, and the truck moved forward, suprisingly smooth for an 11-year-old's skill. Dad showed me how to plant my feet to stay stable on the moving truck, and Dave and the guys started throwing bales up onto the bed. I watched as Dad started the first row, and then cross-stacked the second. It was like Jenga, to my child's mind, and I caught on quickly. Soon, Dad had me on the stack, and he was tossing bales up to me to put into place. It was a sight, as occassionally I had to bear hug and wrestle a bale to get it in place, and jump up and down on it to give it enough force to fit into the stack.

Before long, the truck was full -- stacked 10-bales high, with me perched triumphantly on the top, grinning from ear-to-ear. Dad climbed up the stack to help me down, and we sat on the back of the truck as James maneuvered his way across the field toward the barn. As we cut through a patch of wildflowers near the edge of the field, Dad reach down and plucked one perfect purple-blue blossom from the rest. He tucked the stem of the blossom behind my ear and chucked me playfully on the chin. "Ya did good, Hay Princess," he said. I smiled and took the flower from my ear, and stared at it as a tangle of emotions I didn't understand filled my little heart. It was the first time anyone had given me flowers -- Is it any wonder that no time since even compares?

Progressing

It’s my Wednesday… and I’m exhausted. And being that it’s only a 5-day week for me instead of a 6-day week, you would think that I would be a little less tired, but I’m not.

But it’s been a good week so far, and I’ve gotten a lot accomplished. Including getting a lot of Army/Navy stuff sorted out – which reminds me that I still haven’t updated all of you on that. So, here we go.

As most of you know, back in March I enlisted in the US Navy. Since then, the Navy had changed my contract six times, and I ended up getting NOTHING that I was promised by my recruiting office. I couldn’t have any of the jobs I was interested in. I couldn’t get my student loans repaid. I couldn’t get a ship-out date that made sense. NOTHING. So, at the beginning of July, I asked to be discharged. My recruiter was disappointed, and his Chief was downright pissed, but, I asked anyway, because my career isn’t about them. It’s about me, and what’s best for my future. Taking a job that would make me miserable because that was the best the Needs of the Navy could offer just wasn’t cutting it.

The very same day I asked for my Navy discharge, I was on the phone with an Army recruiter. SFC Conway was awesome with me. And the guys that work out of his office have treated me like a goddess since the day I walked in.

Almost three weeks ago, I had my first meeting in the Army office. Sergeant Ouellette talked to me about both Active Duty and Reserves, and the pros and cons of each. Being an Active Duty guy himself, he was more enthusiastic about that side, but he was thorough on each. He showed me what was available to me with the Army as far as jobs were concerned – and with them, it was literally EVERY SINGLE JOB, sans one. My vision, which medically disqualified me from all but a handful of clerical jobs in the Navy, wasn’t at all an issue with the Army. I could do something other than push paper behind a desk. I could do tactical ops. I could use my training. After that first meeting, I had a lot to think about.

A couple days later, SFC Conway called me at home to see where my head was at regarding all the things I had discussed with Sgt Ouellette. SFC Conway was receptive to my opinions, and what I thought would suit me best. He then referred me to Sergeant Pamphile, the Reserve Recruiter, and I had a meeting the following Monday.

At that meeting, Sgt. Pamphile blew me away. I could have the job I wanted, get my loans repaid, AND qualify for a cash sign-on bonus. And I could leave THIS FALL. I couldn’t have been more pleased.

And the guys…. SCF Conway, Sgt. Ouellette, Sgt. Pamphile… all of them were great. I walked in there and felt like I fit right away. We were laughing and joking within a few minutes of my being there – it was an atmosphere I never really felt in the Navy office.

I could have been signed and had all my paperwork completed at that meeting – but, the Navy still hadn’t discharged me. They were dragging their feet, and giving me the song and dance of the having to play the numbers game to meet quota to please the chain of command.

So, I tried to be patient. I gave it another week. When I heard nothing from my Navy recruiter in that time, I drove into State College, and cornered him in his office. The meeting was… tense. But I made it perfectly clear that my patience with the United States Navy was long passed spent. I pointed out that the Navy couldn’t legally hold me, because I hadn’t left for basic training. I also pointed out that I’m better connected politically speaking than I’ve ever let on, and if I had to go down those avenues for my discharge (which I would do if I had to) it would not work out well for my recruiter or his office.

Today, my Navy recruiter called me. My discharge papers have been filed, and are moving up the chain of command. I should be officially out of the Navy in about 2 days.

Coincidentally, Sgt. Pamphile also called me today. The job I wanted (Military Police -- big surprise, I know) opened up in Chambersburg, which is the closest Military Police Reserve Station to where I live, which will be saving me quite a drive on drill weekends. Also, I’ll be eligible for $20-$30K in Student Loan Repayment, as well as an $8-$14K cash sign-on bonus, depending on when and where I decide to go for basic training. I was all but dancing in my house.

So, things seem to be falling into place. As soon as my discharge is inked, I’ll be drawing up Army Reserve Enlistment papers. Looks like I’ll finally actually get my career off on the right foot.

In other news, there has been lots of adventuring recently. Went on a little historic photo-taking expedition with Suzanne and Melanie over the weekend, which was a good time. We went down to Curtin Village, a furnace village that made iron products in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. Got some decent photos, I think, but I haven’t had the time to take them off the camera and really look at them. Sunday I went down to the Juniata River with a friend, and spent the day swimming, fishing, and catching crawfish. It was a good time. No pictures of that excursion, however. Then today, there was boating at Sayers Dam… Amy got a new 2-person tube to pull behind the boat. It’s a blast! Suzanne and I paired up and took it for a spin today… and we laughed so hard I thought we were gonna pee our pants. It was great.

So, life is moving along like it should. Summer is progressing, and my career seems to be progressing with it. I very much approve.

Jam-Packed with Adventuring

::Phew::

This summer is flying by at breakneck speed. Seems that lately, I can’t even catch my breath.

It’s already mid-July. The weather has been scorching – a testament to the season. But time hasn’t had that sun-wilted, lazy pace I remember from my youth. There haven’t been quiet afternoon naps in the sunshine, or lazy days lounging on the beach. There have been no carefree days to do as I pleased – to wander with my camera, and get lost in the images I captured in the lens, or sleep until I finally felt rested.

It seems that summer is no longer the season-long vacation I lived for every year. Summer is work. And a lot of it.

Now, that’s not to say there haven’t been adventures. There are always adventures. Last week there were bar outings, a day on the boat in the sunshine, a road trip/rescue mission to New York City, and a lawn chair movie night -- all while enjoying the company of my awesome roommate, Suzanne :) This week there has been Army meetings (which needs its own post, as it's complicated as hell, so I'll get to that soon), and fishing, and shopping excursions, and there will be more bar outings. And mixed in to it all has been work, and when I can, the gym. But admittedly I've been slacking on that front. With a schedule as jam-packed as mine has been, something had to give.

I love summer -- I love everything about it. The smell, the feel, the pace -- even the hurried one that it's become as I've gotten older. Perhaps that's why I find it so necessary to cram as much as humanly possible into every single minute. Or, perhaps I just don't want to miss anything :)

Life is crazy -- and I love it.

But that's not to say I'm not looking forward to my long weekend coming up that has shockingly little planned for it...

Running Conclusions

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka... My sneakered feet hit the pavement in steady rhythm as I ran across campus in the cool night air -- well, cool in comparison to the 95 degree weather the sunshine had brought that day. I didn't have a route in mind. I just ran.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… My thoughts wandered a bit as I cut down through South Halls. I had some good memories down there my sophomore year in college, and in the years that followed working move-in/move-out with PSUPD. I smiled. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Thwacka, thwacka, tap, tap, tap, tap… I took the steps behind Redifer Commons at a jog – those steps there were designed for child-size feet, not adult ones. I hung a right at the bottom of the steps, and cut down into the parking lot, and out to the sidewalk that runs along College Avenue. I lengthened my stride, as the sidewalk stretched out ahead of me, the flat surface a perfect spot to make up some time.

Thwackity, thwackity, thwackity, thwackity… Seems all I’ve been doing lately is making up for lost time. Where was I going? The thought was a philosophical one, rather than navigational. As I approached Shortlidge Road, my thoughts were not about the traffic beside me, or the people I passed. I paid no attention to the storefronts to my left, or the picturesque campus to my right where I’d spent so many years. No, as I ran, I thought of what was behind me.

Thwackity, thwackity, thwackity, thwackity… I left my hometown at 18, and never really looked back. I spent four and a half years in college, and three and a half of those years working two jobs to pay for it. I’d moved around some within the area, but never felt transient. I’d made a life for myself here – great friends, a job I don’t completely hate, an area that I’ve come to have a rather strong fondness for – at some point, when I was busy running, I’d made it home.

The thought struck me so solidly that I stopped. I looked up the hill to my right, and saw Old Main standing proud, with its stoic columns, and weathered clock tower, the gray stone washed white in the lamp light. I shook my head and laughed at myself. Who’da thought? I headed back down College Avenue.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… I fell back into my rhythm as I passed the gates at Allen Street. Sweat ran between my shoulder blades and slicked my skin. I barely noticed. My mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of home and future and life to be concerned with my physical discomfort. Did I want to settle down? What about all the places I wanted to see, and the things I wanted to do?

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… I passed a group of young women, dressed to the hilt. They gave me snide glances as I passed them – my sweating self apparently offended their delicate sorority sensibilities. I laughed again – out loud this time. How am I at home around a bunch of bitchy sorostitutes??

Thwacka, thwacka, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack… I rounded the corner at Burrowes Street, and started up the hill, changing my pace to accommodate the change in grade. The climb had my muscles singing before I’d made it twenty-five yards. But I pushed, because life was what you made it. If you wanted something, you worked, and pushed, and sweat until you had it. You didn’t give up, or stop pushing just because it got too hard, and the before was more comfortable.

Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack… Despite the aching in my legs, and the burning that was starting in my lungs, I smiled. I didn’t have to become complacent, but I didn’t have to reinvent myself every time I got comfortable, either. I could settle in, and still push for more, couldn’t I?

Thwack, thwack, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… As I crested the hill, and crossed Curtin Road, my stride naturally lengthening again, I knew what I wanted. I cut behind Kern Building, the trees casting long shadows on the sidewalk. I could have both – be both.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… I hung a right and ducked behind the parking garage and through north campus, past the fountain at Chambers Building – they’d fixed it since I’d graduated, and the trickling water was a pleasant sound in the night. I turned left onto Allen Road, my muscles beginning to tighten with fatigue. Only had another three-quarters of a mile to go – I could make it.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… Park Avenue stretched ahead of me, as I followed the sidewalk to the right. My mind flashed back to a time when I’d stood in the middle of that road, in full traffic gear, responsible for dozens of college kids working under me, and the safe exodus of thousands of football fans. I’d wanted to conquer the world in those days – and in some ways thought I had. But with graduation came reality – and with reality came a personal rock-bottom that I didn’t think someone like me could experience.

Thwackadum, thwackadum, thwackadum, thwackadum…My pace slowed as a concession to the fatigue becoming more palpable with every stride. I crossed Shortlidge Road, and looked to my left over what had once been open field, and was now Penn State’s Arboretum, and next to that it’s Law School. Those building projects caused such headaches for the campus. Especially during football season, as we lost thousands of parking spaces, and had to worry about drunk fans stumbling onto the job sites and hurting themselves. But they were built. Progress was made. The aches and pains were overcome.

Thwacka, thwacka, thwacka, thwacka… I picked my pace back up, determined to finish my run strong. I hung a right onto Bigler Road. It was mostly down hill now, on the final leg. I pulled myself out of my rock-bottom back then, and overcame my pains. Made myself into a person that I liked and respected – and a person that has turned out to be liked and respected by others, too. And what I wanted? Yeah… I can make myself into that too, without giving up what I’ve become.

Thwackity, thwackity, thwackity, thwackity… That realization brought new energy, and I took the pace up another notch as I passed the East Deck. I could do this. More importantly, I wanted to – and in my life, one has most usually led to the other.

Thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity… By the time I crossed Curtin Road, I was nearly sprinting. I flew by the Computer Building, and rounded the corner at Eisenhower Road at near breakneck speed, taking the corner wide enough to keep my footing.

Thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackity… The last 75 yards were mine, and I took them at a full sprint. My mind, for the first time since I laced up my running shoes, completely blanked. All I could hear were my feet on the pavement, and the music in my earphones – Papa Roach at that particular point. My muscles were singing, and my heart was pounding, but still I pushed.

Thwackity-tackity, thwackity-tackiy – whoosh… I was done. My lungs were heaving as I bent at the waist and put my hands on my knees. My gray tank top was completely soaked through with sweat, and it dripped down my face, splattering on the pavement between my feet. I smiled. It was a good run…

Personalities Abound

While today is a rest day from working out, the last two days were not. I pushed hard at the gym... trying to get as much quality out of the lesser quantity of my training these days. It was nice to see familiar faces, and continue my humorous commentary on the regulars. So, here we go...

Shoulders was back... though the last two days he'd toned down the bright-colored T-shirt. Perhaps that was in direct result of the fact that his shoulders have emassed themselves to a whole new level of ginormous, and probably ate the other T-shirts whole. Gnat was not present either of the last two days, and I found I missed his cheery flitting about -- he amuses me, and as such makes the time pass quicker. Perhaps he's on vacation.

Now, there are two new gym personalities I want to introduce you to:
Xena Warrior Princess -- She's around 5'8" tall, with long black hair that she keeps tied up in a knot on the top of her head. Her face is exotically pretty, and her body... well, she is the sexiest, most cut woman I have ever seen. She's not cut in that weird, scary, female body-builder way, but instead in the lean, sexy style of a woman that takes pride in her body, and actually uses the muscles for something other than pumping iron in the gym. The woman has essentially no body fat, and manages to keep herself looking cool and composed as she benches 160lbs through three sets. In contrast, I'm dripping with sweat, my hair's a wild mass of medusa-like disarray and stuffed under a battered Red Sox cap. Cool and composed? Not so much. I want to be Xena when I grow up.
Eye Candy -- Ok ladies, this one, you want to pay attention to. He's 6'0" and probably 225lbs of cut, Greek God perfection. Blonde hair, green eyes, and a ridiculously defined abdominal section that makes a 6-pack look like child's play. I've been around my share of men, and as such can usually control my reactions to them without a lot of effort. But Eye Candy distracts me to the point that I all but drool -- and because of that I push myself harder through my circuit, so if I ever get the opportunity to have a conversation with him, I'll have to thank him. And ask him to help me with pull-ups, seeing as they're my enemy, and he has them mastered, as he was doing dozens of wide-grip pull-ups, while holding what looked like a 40lb dumbbell between his feet. Show-off. Not that I minded, of course :)

Well, off to work for me... it's my Tuesday...

Short Skirt/High Heels Night -- My, Oh My...

Last night was the first major bar outing since Suzanne arrived here for the summer... and what a way to debut the State College night scene!



As the title indicates, it was Short Skirt/High Heels Night -- well, it was in our group anyway. All the girls participated, and the boys were properly appreciative of the efforts. The night started with Jenn, Suzanne and I prepping ourselves for the big night out -- Jenn in her very feminine, though adorable while mini-skirt, with dead-sexy cobalt blue top; Suzie in her new "rocker" mini-skirt, my pink silk cami, and her new amazingful stripper heels; and me, in my new denim mini-skirt, red "wife-beater" style tank, blue and red plaid heels and matching fedora. We picked up Melanie on the way to the bar to round out our Foxy Foursome, and all I can say is: Yeah... we were a sight!



After the much required female ritual of lengthy prepping and debate over clothing options, it was off to the Gingerbread Man for beverages, and a much needed visit with an old friend, Bean, the best bartender in State College. There was drinking, and the usual ruckus-causing. Bean, as always, took really great care of us with free shots -- his "Statutory Grape" shot that he coined, and found much humor in serving to off-duty law enforcement. But, as the night progressed, due to lack of live entertainment, and a strong desire by all the females in the party to dance, it was decided to change venues. So, we said our goodbyes to Bean, and headed out the door and down the street to The Saloon, where a fun band, My Hero Zero, was playing. So the dancing began, and boys flocked (strangers included) and turns out I didn't have to buy a single drink for the rest of the night... seems short skirts, and plaid heels makes men want to spoil you. Who'da thunk?



The night, while thoroughly entertaining in a number of ways, did have to end rather abruptly when my friend, Jordan made a drunk ass out of himself. But, after a crafty cajoling, a little strong-arming, and a lot of patience, Melanie and I got him safely back to my apartment where he slept off his stupor on my couch. And, for the trouble and grief he caused us, he had to spend $36.00 to get his car out of the municipal parking lot in State College this morning. I think it serves him right :)



But, the end of the night wasn't all bad, as the rest of the crew ended up back at my house -- it wasn't the usual after-party, for fear of waking up the very drunk and belligerent Jordan, but it ended with four women in my bed... what could possibly be wrong with that?



So... that was the excitement... and for your viewing pleasure, here are the women, all sexed up and dressed to kill:

Yup... it was definitely a night to remember...

Not So Lazy Summer Days

Wow... this week has been a total whirlwind.

Suzie and I seem to be finding our rhythym as roommates. We seem to be falling into a routine that works for us, and so far, we aren't driving one another crazy. Go us!

We're also keeping busy... lots of erranding, and getting settled in, and shopping. There have been a couple of very entertaining nights out, and a few quiet afternoons in. We're still able to find time to ourselves too, which is probably key to this whole roommate thing working out. I get my gym time, which keeps me sane, and she gets her time to herself to really see if this whole living away from home thing is going to work for her. So far, rave reviews seem to be pouring in from both sides.

So, we're busy, busy, busy... standby for some incident-specific posts...

Sunny Smiles

I love summer...

The day was gorgeous... It was 90 degrees, sunny, with big fluffy white clouds in the sky, and a light breeze. The company was colorful... my oldest friend, Suzie, with her new, short-cropped hair; Amy, with her shorts and t-shirt -- too Tom Boy for a bathing suit; Ty, with his boyish good looks, and outrageous personality; Henry, with his enormous, though endearing ego, and ridiculous stories; and Tim, a.k.a. Egghead, with his quiet amusement, and apparent lack of coordination. There was kneeboarding, and water skiing, and sunbathing. And, as always, there was laughter and entertaining conversation.




And, and displayed by the photo above, the views weren't too bad either :) That's me in the middle there, with Ty on the left, and Henry on the right.

I really, love summer...

Working It Out

::Sigh:: Much better.

I had been feeling guilty. That funk that I talked about a few posts ago was harder to shake than I thought it would be. Add to it that I worked 28 hours in two days over the weekend, and you have the reasons I didn't hit the gym or run for four whole days straight.

But, tonight after work I laced up my running shoes, and did 2 solid miles. It took a good half mile to work out the kinks and stiffness in my muscles from disuse, but then I eased into my familiar rhythm. Then I put some time in the gym afterward, and I'm feeling much better. I was feeling guilty about not having worked out, and I was irritable and withdrawn. That's the way I get when I'm away from exercise too long. It feels good to be setting the pattern to rights :)

Hitting the shower, because I'm sweaty and gross, then crawling in bed. I have the next two days off, and tomorrow will be a busy one, because Suzie arrives tomorrow, and our summer adventures will begin...

I'm very much looking forward to it ;)

Who Needs TV?

My body is tired. I put in a 16-hour day at the prison today -- and it was one that I can't really complain about. I had two good posts: Relief for 7-3 and Central Booking from 3-11, but 16 hours is still 16 hours, no matter how you cut it. And last night, trying to sleep to rest up for my long day at work, was impossible.

The Bellefonte Cruise is in town this weekend. For those of you that don't know what that is, it's a car show that takes place in downtown Bellefonte, closes all the streets, and attracts people from all over the county. There are food vendors, souvenir sellers, and cars -- ranging from Model T's to Muscle Cars to suped-up imports. And there's drinking. Lots of it. Obviously, working all the time, I have been unable to enjoy any of the festivities, but have certainly had to contend with the headache of them.




I was tired. My bed felt great as I slid beneath the sheets. It was just so damn nice to be horizontal. I rolled over, turned out the light, and was sound asleep in minutes.

I awoke to voices. Why is there a party in my bedroom? My groggy, sleep deprived brain thought. I looked at the clock and had to blink several times to bring it into focus. It was 1:27am. I had been asleep for a little over an hour. I groaned, and rolled over, pulling the sheets over my head, realizing that the voices were not coming from inside my bedroom, but from the street and sidewalk outside my open bedroom windows. People were heading home from the Cruise and the downtown festivities.

For the next hour and a half I drifted in and out of sleep, as the voices and ruckus continued to drift by the windows. At a little after 3am, I heard my upstairs neighbors clomp drunkenly into the entry. There was laughter and stumbling, which was followed by choice words. Then I heard the sound of splintering wood and snapping plastic and the lights in my apartment tweaked out. Most went dark, including my alarm clock, appliances and electronics, but for a little variety, my overhead living room light turned on. And it stayed on, no matter how many times I flipped the damn switch.

Swearing, I pulled on my bathrobe, snatched the steel MagLite off the top of the fridge, and stepped into flip flops to go investigate. In the lobby, which was now vacant, I found a light switch panel and junction box completely ripped off the wall, live wires severed and sparking in the partial darkness. I stepped closer, and saw that two of the wires were touching each other, and were causing the electricity to arc. I was worried about it starting a fire, so I picked up a plastic piece of the destroyed lighting panel, and used it to separate the wires, The lights in the lobby flickered back on, my overhead living room light went out, and I shuffled my tired, irritated ass back to bed.

Fists pounded on my door. "Brandon? Brandon!"

Ugh, what now?? I looked at my cell phone. It was now 4:30am. "Go away," I said loudly enough to carry into the lobby.

"I will not go away. I want to talk to Brandon!" I rolled my eyes, and swearing, donned the same robe and flip flops as before, and snagged the same MagLite from where I had left it sitting on my dresser and stormed to the door. I undid the deadbolt, and slammed the door open against the security chain.

"Look, lady, I don't know you, and believe me, I don't want to. It is 4:30 in the fucking morning, and there is no goddamn Brandon that lives here." I pulled the door back shut, and was turning the deadbolt to lock it when she started pounding on my door again. So, again, I slammed the door open against the security chain. "Are you fucking hearing impaired??" My patience was wearing thin.

"I'm not leaving until I talk to Brandon. I know he lives here." The petite, drunk woman crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at me in defiance. The thread to which I was holding on to my temper and control snapped.

"Ok, princess, let me spell this out for you. BRANDON DOES NOT LIVE HERE. There is a Brandon that lives in the apartment upstairs. That is all I'm going to tell you. I swear to God, if you knock on this door one more time, I'm going to take this flashlight," which I held up for emphasis, "and bash your pretty, delusional head in. Then I'm going to call the cops, and have you arrested for Public Drunk, Disorderly Conduct, Causing a Disturbance, Harrassment, and for being a waste of perfectly good sperm. Get the hell off my doorstep. I won't tell you again." As first shock, then fear slid over her face, I slammed the door in it.

A few minutes later I heard her stomp up the stairs, and repeat the scene at Apartment #2's door. I heard Brandon yell at her to go away. She pounded some more. He yelled some more. I got out of bed, and headed for the coffee pot. My alarm was going to go off in an hour anyway, and clearly, I wasn't going to spend that hour sleeping.

So, coffee in hand, I sat down at my computer to get lost on the interwebs for a bit. That's when I heard, "Look you crazy bitch, I don't want to sleep with you anymore! My fiancee is going to be home any minute, and your ass had better be gone when she gets here."

Ah, that explains a lot, I thought, as the woman burst into tears, and called Brandon every name in the book. She then stormed down the stairs, and as fate would have it, ran into Brandon's fiancee at the door. A cat fight ensued, complete with hair-pulling, bitch slapping and biting, and was broken up when another neighbor yelled that he was calling the police.

And over my coffee cup, I couldn't help but chuckle. Who needs TV when the Jerry Springer Show lives upstairs??




When I got home from work tonight, the wiring was fixed. And it's amazingly quiet. So on that note, I'm going to go thank my lucky stars, and go get horizontal to catch up on all the rest I lost.

I'm so glad the Cruise is only once a year....

An Untarnished Badge, Off Duty At Last

I wrote the following last night at work, and planned to post it when I got home, however I had a blond moment and forgot to email it to myself. So, here it is... better late than never!


So, I couldn’t help it. I teared up. I guess I really am becoming a sap in my old age.

Tonight marks the end of a lengthy and successful career in law enforcement for a man that has become one of my favorite people. After 20+ years as a police officer for the State College Borough, and another 20+ years as first a Corrections Officer and later a Lieutenant for the Centre County Correctional Facility, Lt. James Smith is throwing in the towel and retiring.

Tonight in Muster, he thanked us for our service, and for doing our jobs. He told us we knew our purpose, and performed our tasks in a manner that was a credit to our facility, and smiled when he added that we did that, despite the Administration’s assertions to the contrary. That’s so like him, I thought. So like him to take this as just another day, and make it a credit to us and not to himself. And as he thanked us, I teared up. It couldn’t be helped.

I haven’t always agreed with Smitty. Nor, I’m sure, has he always thought I handled things the way they necessarily should have been. But his door was always open, and he could always be counted on for punny humor sure to lighten the mood in even the most irritating of circumstances, and a listening ear when humor wasn’t the appropriate response.

Last year, when a fellow officer I was dating was arrested in a major drug investigation, it was Smitty that pulled me aside before anyone else to ask if I was ok. I was working the day after his arrest, and it was Smitty who asked if I needed to take a day – regardless of the fact that the shift was already underway, and someone would have to be called in. “If you need it, we’ll make it happen,” he said. The respect I saw in his eyes when I said I’d stay and face whatever rumors and accusations were coming, steadied and reassured me more than any hug or comfort ever could have. And it was in his company that I would escape the whispers and the questions and the gossip in the weeks afterward, as we shared the sludge our kitchen passes off as coffee in the quiet of the Shift Commander’s office. I’m not sure I could have gotten through those weeks if not for that.

And it was Smitty who dubbed me with the nickname Jinxie – due to my more unfortunate than average luck with anything involving injuries, health problems, vehicles, appliances, and electronics. “Batten down the hatches, and man your battle stations,” he’d say, “Jinxie’s in the building!” Mischief dancing in his eyes, and a grin splayed across his weathered face.

Having to admit the Old Man was slowing down this past year was hard for me. And sadly, I kept waiting for the day that we’d get the call from his daughter that he’d passed away. After-all, the man’s 78, too stubborn to pay attention to anything his doctor tells him to do, and has the eating habits of a 7-year old child when left to his own devices. But each day he’d pull into the lot, with his shiny Cadillac, and a smile on his face. “Oh, golly, here comes trouble,” He’d say, when he’d see me, or “Well, look at this group of characters,” as he walked into Muster before shift. But his good nature was wearing thin with the bullshit the last few months. The in-house investigations and often undue scrutiny of the administration sucked the patience out of him. His memory was starting to go – he was having to write himself notes more often, and remembered the details less – and his willingness to tackle the big issues was waning. It was time for him to go.

But I’ll miss him. Tonight he and I sat in the Shift Commander’s together for the last time – him behind the desk manning the helm, and me with my feet on it, sitting in the chair on the other side. His lack of enthusiasm regarding his pending retirement worries me – and confirms my suspicions that this choice, while perhaps made unbeknownst to others, wasn’t entirely his.

“I’ll be sorry to see you go, LT – I’m happy for you for being retired, but sad for us.” He smiled, and only a select few would have noticed that it was a little watery.
“I’m not exactly doing cartwheels over it, but it is what it is.”
“What’ll you do to keep yourself busy, without this place driving you to insanity?” I tried to hide my concern.
“Well, Jinxie, I haven’t got a heck of a lot.” The look of utter defeat on his face broke my heart.
“Well, that will just leave you more time to find some trouble to get into. You know what they say about idle hands…” I grinned, and was pleased to see that he smiled back.
“Oh, what’ll my daughter do with me??” Mischief gleamed in his eyes for a moment before they sobered. He looked down then, and wiped a tear away that I respectively pretended not to notice.
“You need a warm-up on that coffee, LT?” He looked up. “I’m on break. Come on down with me and I’ll buy you a fresh cup.”
Smitty smiled wide. “Hell, with this crap you ought to be paying me to drink it.”

Goodbyes are hard. Harder yet when you know they don’t necessarily represent a new beginning. I hope that Smitty finds his niche in retirement – I know few people who have earned it more.