A quest to finally get a dishwasher!

So there you have it, our crappy little kitchen. The Misses an I knew exactly what we were getting into when we bought our little house in the Ghetto. Now that we have a fence it is time to move onto the kitchen. For the last year and a half we have been doing the dishes by hand everyday, and for the last year and a half we have been complaining about it everyday. Now that the Misses is in school full time, working full time, and being a Sergeant part time I seem to be stuck doing all the dishes all the time. This has made the quest for the dishwasher all that more important.

The size of our kitchen makes it so that only one person can be in it at a time to cook (which is really no big deal. Com'on seriously, what couple out their really cooks together?). Getting a dishwasher in this small space has made us get creative with the layout. Right now it is a classic "U" shape, but the size allows no room for a dishwasher. We have thought about just one of those roll-a-way models, but there is no where to store it. So to the drawing board I went. I finally decided to tear out the peninsula, this allowed for a dishwasher to sit next to the sink. But that left us with even less of the precious counter and cabinet space. The remedy for this is cabinets and counter where the railing for our stairs is.

Okay so tear out a few cabinets and install some in another place. No big deal right? Wrong. This means new flooring, new appliances, removing that stupid soffit above the upper cabinets, lights, a new door and....oh yeah and an electrician to wire for a dishwasher (and The Misses exterior light I told her would never happen. Amazing how she ends up getting everything she wants). Luckily I can do most of the work, and that which is to much for me I know someone that can do it for a good price.

And so it begins, my quest for a dishwasher.

Yes Pops, that is your saw (in case you are looking for it).

Great Christmas Presents!

I never grew up around guns. My Pops has never been one to go out hunting for the occasional beast. He has been known to have said "Once you have hunted humans, a helpless deer just isn't much fun." It really doesn't bother me. It isn't like we needed that to help us bond. We have always had a great relationship. I can remember Cousin Josh finding out that Pops didn't own a gun. He just could not understand why. I have always enjoyed shooting. Growing up I spent many hours behind Aunt Cheryl's house with Josh looking for birds. To be honest I don't remember me ever killing one, Josh on the other hand was a Killing Machine. I am sure with as much time as we spent out in that field I would have at least hit one, but the memory of it has faded.

Besides the Red Rider BB gun, the only guns I have owed was the ones the Army had issued to me, and unfortunately they frown on Soldiers taking them home to practice with. About two weeks before Christmas this year The Misses and I had our friends Little Dickie and his wife over to watch a fight and have a few pops. I don't know what got me on the subject (to be honest I don't remember really saying it. Of course I don't remember a lot of things), but I decided I really wanted them to know I wanted a hand gun. I have always wanted one, but couldn't see me spending that much money. I guess that night I went on and on how I wanted a .40 caliber handgun. "I wanted more stopping power then a 9mm, but didn't want a gun that would go through quit so many walls as a .45 ......." I supposedly made quit a fuss.

Little did I know The Misses had in fact went out with Little Dickie and purchased me just what I had wanted, a .40 Caliber Heckler and Koch killing, I mean protecting device. After I got over the fact that she went WAY, WAY, WAY over her $50 budget. I truly couldn't have been happier.

A few weekends ago The Misses and I signed up for a Concealed Carry Weapons Permit class. We both have been around weapons in the military. But anyone with such a deadly device should take every class they can to learn more about them (that's our humble opinion). I had searched the Internet and there were about 200 people qualified to teach the class. I started to inquire and came across Welden Anderson (aka Gun Master). His class seemed to take things one step further then the rest. So we signed up.

You can tell Gun Master was in the military by his emails. Very structured, with and emphasis on punctuation. The class started at 0800 sharp. He began the class by going through all the class that he has taken:

- Utah Certified Firearms Instructor
- Police Academy graduate
- FBI Citizens Academy graduate
- Provo SWAT (Threat Management Group)
trained in Edged Weapons Defense I, II
- Counter-Terrorism Institute of America
trained in Tactical Pistol
- And about 15 other classes, always quick to point out he was the Distinguished Honor Graduate for most of the classes. When I say this guy lays in bed at night thinking about blowing someone away, I mean it. If I was ever in an area where there was an active shooter I would want this guy in the area too. He started showing us his guns and where he cared them (notice I used the plural form of this). A full size .40 caliber Glock on his right hip, a .40 caliber mini Glock on his right butt, and a knife in his left pocket. When we asked if he carried a gun on his ankle he went into a rant about not giving away your hand in poker (so yes, a gun on his ankle). To make a long story shorter, lets just say he is a bit out of control.

The class was great. He went through the laws and as many scenarios as he could in the 8 hr class. The bottom line of his class could be summed up by; If you pull out your hand gun for any reason, pull out your check book with the other hand cause its going to cost you no matter what. At the end of the class was supposed to be the time we went up on the range to fire. I was really looking forward to some teaching from someone other than the army. Unfortunately it was getting late and The Misses and I had to get home. So we didn't get the opportunity.

A week or so later we went together and fired the hand gun. I am not as good as the Gun Master but with practice Eagle Eye Taylor will be even deadlier.

P.S. I would like to thank The Misses brother The Missionary for supplying us with the target. As soon as The Misses opened her Christmas Present I knew exactly how we could use it (either as a door mat to wipe our feet, or a target).

CNA's should be paid much, much more

I know, you all are asking what has he been up to? Well, for the past two days I have been laying in the hospital bed playing a patient. I got a little stomach bug that did a number to me. I really didn't see it coming. Tuesday morning I woke up and my stomach was acting a little weird, eight hours later and 20 BM's I was at my second home St. Marks Hospital. I am fine now, a little groggy, really bored and really missing Jeter (oh yah and The Misses).
It's amazing how quick I know, usually within one sentence how good or not so good a nurse is. Now don't think this is going to be a bag on nurses piece. As you should know by now I have great respect for anyone that takes care of the sick. But some are just better with their bedside manners than others. Once I am assessed by a nurse they can see I am going to be an "easy" patient. This means I can get up by myself, I'm not going to press the nurses button for anything other then my IV pump is empty, I don't complain about how shitty I feel..... I am easy (okay so there was that whole Bacterial Meningitis thing, but I truly wasn't coherent for a good deal of that time). Right off the bat the nurses that are assigned to watch over me can see I am "easy" so I don't see much of them.
Having said all that there are the nurses who truly care. Maybe they are just better at showing it, because I'm sure most nurses care or why would they be there. They still don't pay much attention but when they do their mind seems to be only on me and not the drug addicted naked guy that is streaking past my door. They take their time and assess what is going on, then it on to the next patient. At the end of their shift they stop in for one more check and see if there is something they have missed. Others may say goodnight as they are walking past the door with the cell phone to their ears and eyes focused on the door. I have no doubt that The Misses falls in the first category of these nurses. At least that's what gives me hope that's the reason she is always late is because she is taking care of patients and not banging a Doctor in the supply closet as Grays Anatomy would lead everyone to believe.
The bottom line is nurses I understand, I get. CNA's on the other hand are people I will never understand why they do what they do. For those of you that don't spend much time in the hospital CNA's are the nurses muscles. For the most part they are the ones getting patients up to go the bathroom, showering, and getting drinks. Here's the thing I don't get. I have never met an ornery CNA. If I was the CNA that had to take care of me, and remember I am easy. If after every time I used the bathroom I had to come in and write down how much and consistency I would be ornery. Let a lone if I had to take care of all the hard patients. To top it all off they don't make squat! All I have to say is god bless them. There is a lot of things I would do for money, but there is no way I could do that and stay happy. Let a lone look the patient in the eye after.

Worse than the Army's Salisbury Steak

Its that time of year again. Time for my yearly scope. The scope truly isn't that bad, it is only a prick of a needle and time to take a nap. Now the day before, that is another story.

It was three months ago that my doctors office gave me a set of instructions and two small box's. I have been dreading today ever since. Just thinking about it gives me chills. I don't know if I am just a puss, have a low gag threshold, or a little bit of both but I can't stand this stuff. I am positive, the Nazis came up with this shit to torture the POW in WWII. When Fleet got a hold of it they put a little flavoring to it (Ginger-Lemon) and called it a cleansing solution. I am pretty sure it is the nastiest stuff I have ever had to endure.

I will never forget one cold January afternoon in Grafenwoehr Germany. We were playing war and hadn't had a decent meal in two day. As we saw our First Sergeant drive up to our location our spirits lifted. Finally hot chow. I remember standing in line thinking this was going to be better than anything I had ever eaten. Yes, better than Grandma's Homemade Rolls, Mom's Augrotten Potatoes, even better than Dad's Potato Pie. I should have realised something was out of whack when they dished my helping onto my tray and there was no steam rising from it. It was January in Germany, and no steam? This should have been a clue what I was in for. But I was so hungry it didn't register. As I cut me off a chunk of the Salisbury Steak and plopped it in my mouth, my dreams were immediately crushed. It was ice cold. The grease that had once been the savory sauce had turned into a slimy jello. As it hit my tongue it felt like someone had spit a large luggy in my mouth. I was so hungry I just kept going. It was about the third or fourth bite that made me stop. As I tried to swallow the cool piece of meet I got the swets and everything came up. It was a a horrible horrible meal. Its hard to believe that I would ever have anything that compared to that.

Congratulations Fleet! You win the prize. It truly is as bad as it gets. Even worse than the Salisbury Steak.

I would continue, but my stomach is gurgling and its time to run (literally)!

"I want a box for under the tree." She says

How Should I explain this weekend? How about a Song.

LA LA LA LAAAA

(Sounds of me clearing my throat)

Sung to The Twelve Days of Christmas

On the Twelfth hour of working,

to build The Misses box

Twelve feet of trim,

Eleven different angels,

Ten drops of blood

(yes I did hurt myself... again)

Nine different designs,

Eight damn mistakes,

Seven "son-of-a-bitches,"

Six bucks? try sixty,

FIVE ICE COLD BEERS,

Four inches to wide,

Three trips to Home Depot,

Two punctured fingers,

ALL FOR A BOX UNDER THE DAMN CHRISTMAS TREE!

So It doesn't follow the actual song.

I doubt yours would be any better after a few beers!

More than just a fence!

Some of you may recall one of my first blogs about my weird neighbors here in the ghetto. Because of them it was our wish when we got married that everyone gave gift cards to Home Depot. Thanks to everyone that contributed we finally have a 6 foot tall cedar fence. Okay so it isn't 12 feet, but it definitely helps.

Truth be told that a year and a half ago when we bought the home I started thinking about installing the fence. There have been many hours laying in bed thinking of the best way to erect a little piece of privacy. I had talked to several companies to find out what it would cost for them to do it. I was so worried about setting the post wrong and having it look like crap. Maybe it best's to leave this one up to the Pros. Problem with the Pros their price was a little high for my tastes (plus they wouldn't let me pay with Home Depot gift cards). So after a few more hours of tossing and turning, finally the day came to give it a try.

For those of you thinking of attempting this, the one piece of advice I would give is measure twice and dig once. We rented a post hole digger that was a real back saver. The Usual cast of faithful characters where there. The first weekend was spent with my Pops, and Little Dickie. The plan at first called for setting the post along the back of the fence then removing the chain link that had separated us from the beer cans. Once the post were set I said "f*&K it. have they even offered to help or pay a Pennie? NO!" I then decided to leave the fence there and build ours so the good side shows only to us. That will teach them to leave that damn truck sitting with all that crap in it!

It was actually much easier than I thought. After an afternoon of playing in the dirt the post were set. The next weekend The Family-in-Law stopped by to help out. It didn't take long and all of the post were set and it was time to get some privacy. The next few days I had all the pickets up. The Boss let me use his staple gun so there would be no risk of me hitting my finger.

As you can see it turned out nice. No more looking at my dirty neighbors! Well, unless you are in our kitchen where you can still see that damn truck. I sure do wish they made wood fences that stand 12 feet tall. Thanks to everyone who donated to the cause and especially those that came by and helped. Now if I can just figure out a way to fence in the area to my carport. That way Jeter can run, play, and most important take a shit. Without me or The Misses standing by to make sure he doesn't go out front. I guess that is what will keep me up for the next few months.

What are they doing!

6 Months ago I had a physical that determined I was unfit for duty!

You would think after all this time they would be getting close to knowing what my fate is going to be with the Army. But No. A few days ago, a letter came that says essentially we just reviewed your physical (freaking just reviewed) and you need to go and get a few more test. Oh and by the way all cost associated with these test will come out of your pocket. Oh yah and these need to be back to us by December 25th (idiots, don't even realize what day they make things due). Pricks all of them.

Do they have any idea how hard it is to get in to see a Psychiatrist???? And no it can't be a psychologist I asked. 4 or 5 months if at all. I mean seriously. Anyone who knows me could tell them I am not going to open up to someone after one session (which is all my insurance will pay for). What a waste of time. I spent 5 or 6 sessions during my darker days of my illness with a therapist and she had no clue I was having conversations with myself and some really dark thoughts. I should just lie and say everything is fine or maybe I should mess with them. I think tonight I need to come up with a few other friends to talk to in my mirrors.

Next a neurological evaluation. I am very curious to see how this doctor is going to be able to determine what my memory was like prior to my bout with Bacterial Meningitis. Another very expensive waste of time. I guess they don't believe me when I say I don't remember shit. My memory wasn't perfect before, but it really sucks now.

Soldiers keep asking The Misses why I am not back training with them. The answer is simple. Screw them! Never did anyone call to see how I was doing. I have done everything they have asked and my packet is still 6 to 8 month away from being reviewed by a medical board. I have always stuck up for the military and would never talk bad about anyone that wears the uniform. But policies need to be changed. If it is this hard for someone to say I can or can't be a Soldier, how long will it take for them to figure out some of the harder decisions (you know Iraq, Iran, North Korea). I truly think my next public calling is going to be in the senate. Oh who am I kidding they don't do shit either.

I guess I am stuck playing their game.