Everything is going fine here in Alexandria, Sam and Cheney have joined me from Tennessee, I spent last weekend going there and picking them up. My eternal thanks to Ben P. for patiently watching them while I was deployed and moving down here. Sam and Cheney have taken up residence on the back deck and are making sure there are no cats, possums or raccoons. They haven't figured out how to operate the hot tub yet, which is a good thing.
The snow, all three feet of it, has started to melt way, which is great. I have also figured out the bus/metro commute technique, I think it is all about karma, I keep positive thoughts going while I am running late or struggling with the schedule. This past week there have been a couple of times that I have got to the bus station a little bit late only to be pleasantly surprised by a bus running either early or late, which I didn't mind at all. On Friday, I was the only one on the bus in the morning and the driver got a little lonely, and he just started chatting away. I usually have my mp3 player going on some podcast or music, but I chatted with him. He rides motorcycles with his son, has two motorcycles, all of his riding buddies have stored their bikes at his house for the winter. One of his bikes was a street bike, the other is a road cruiser. Normally, more folks get on the bus and chat him up, but I was the only one, so we ended up talking.
Ok, the next section may be a bit graphic and R-ish rated, so, please consult your parents if you can read it. It does involve rather disturbing nudity.
There is a gym at the Pentagon, the Pentagon Officer's Athletic Club - the POAC. It is kind of an institution in the Pentagon and has been around for years. It is not your normal military gym, most of the gyms that I have been around have been full of a younger sort of crowd, the POAC is definitely not. I am not bothered by that, I am actually impressed that folks much older than me are still working out and trying hard. There are a couple of folks that I would rather not see though: Tan Man and the Zombie. The locker room in the POAC is very, ummm, ahhhh, liberal?? Bottom line, although there are a lot of older gentlemen working out, which is cool, there are also a lot of older men that stopped working out a while ago, but still come to the gym to use the sauna and walk around naked. Nothing like waking up in the morning, making the journey to the gym, washing your hands only to be shocked by a very naked older, kind of overweight man brushing his teeth at the sink next to you buck naked.
Tan Man: Tan Man is one of the main violators of what I would consider decency in the gym. Tan Man is in his 60s, I think. He takes a great deal of joy in walking around naked, which would be normal, but he is fully tanned, and fully shaved. Very disturbing. I am not the only one that has noticed the Tan Man - - my partner in crime MAJ K, noticed him as well. We were both heading back to the office and he had a disturbed look on his face, I asked him what was up and he started talking about Tan Man, who was standing at the next sink, brushing his teeth. I confessed to MAJ K that I had also been shocked by Tan Man, so we both laugh about it now.
The Zombie: The Zombie is also a POAC locker room violator. His locker is in the same row as mine, so I see him every morning. The Zombie comes staggering in, within seconds, he is naked, he reaches into his locker and dumps all of his toiletries onto the floor, bends over (very disturbing) and picks them up. After that, he staggers off to where ever Zombies go to get woke up and become productive.
My biggest fear is that I will be briefing some high ranking muckety-muck and Tan Man or the Zombie will be standing there. Yikes.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Who makes the coffee at the Pentagon?
I do.
Yup, me, Special Forces, one of the few Green Berets, Airborne, Ranger, Combat Diver, chest full of medals, a Lieutenant Colonel with 22 years in the Army, 2 invasions, 3 occupations, trained Armies all over Africa, I make coffee in the Pentagon.
But, there is a reason why. If you want something done right, do it yourself. This morning, the coffee collective I had joined was out of coffee grounds. Tragedy. I wanted real coffee. Someone had made a pot of coffee with some namby pamby, chocolate something or other, gift box, left-over coffee and it was clearly inferior. Not only was it bad coffee, but it was poorly made: Weak, watery, not nearly enough grounds for the pot. My rule, if you use less than a heaping tablespoon for each cup, and then a little more, step aside and let me make it.
Here are the rules of the coffee collective:
1. Put some dang money in the money can if you want some coffee. Folks do this, so it is pretty cool.
2. When one of the two coffee pots runs out, make another pot. Get some water, get a new filter, get some new grounds and make a pot. Don't be lazy, and don't you dare put the coffee pot back in the maker with less than a cup in it, that is wrong.
3. Don't be a coffee vulture: Someone that recognizes a coffee pot is empty and does nothing about it, circling around the snackroom, waiting for someone else to make a new pot. Then swooping in.
4. When there is no coffee left in the cupboard, get some money out of the can, go down to the drug store in the Pentagon mall (yes, there is a mall in the Pentagon, along with a Starbucks, 2 Dunkin Donuts, a McDonald's, a mini-Best Buy (really), various other shops, a laundry facility, a couple of food courts and a no-kidding, sit down restaurant) and buy some more coffee. It is a CVS Pharmacy, so take your discount card with you, the coffee might be on sale. I saved 5 bucks this morning.
5. Don't use the weak-ass leftover coffee that someone brought in because they didn't want to keep it around their house. If it was good coffee, they would have kept it at home.
This morning, it was my turn to go buy the coffee, so I bit the bullet and took the walk to the CVS and bought the coffee. I regularly make a pot , and really like to drink it with my oatmeal in the morning. Two cups, with honey, that's it, nothing past 0930.
Life at the Pentagon
I kind of like it. Dad was a little worried, he thought I would have to work hard (which he thinks I don't particularly care for, dunno why), but I am in a good group of folks, doing good work that will lead to success in Afghanistan (just like there was success in Iraq) and I have a pretty good boss, a Navy Captain, but that is OK. Although we do come in kind of early (at the desk around 0720ish), he doesn't mind if I sneak off around lunch to get a second workout in, and if I really need a day or afternoon off, he is all for it. Because we are both Metro Travellers, we try to leave about 5:15/5:30 unless something comes up, which happens, we are at war you know.
The Metro
I now ride the bus and Metro to work. I am not sure how many folks out there do this, but the first few weeks were VERY stressful. I felt like a 3d grader everytime I got on the bus: Is this the right bus, where do I get off, is that my street, is that my neighborhood, did I remember my Metro card, did I bring my lunch? I have pretty much figured out the schedule now, know which buses to ride and have figured out which of the Metro stations to use (Franconia/Springfield in the morning and Van Dorn in the afternoon). Unlike the myths, there are some really nice folks that are more than happy to help you figure out the buses and timetables.
One of the bus drivers was particularly helpful, although he was laughing at me. I got on his bus, and almost immediately realized I was on the wrong bus. Once the bus emptied out, I started chatting with him; he said he knew immediately that I was on the wrong bus, he knew the look. "Normally, when someone looks at their map, the schedule, their watch, then gets a pissed off look on their face, they are on the wrong bus, when I saw you do that, I got a chuckle." He of course had to keep going on his route, so I was stuck on the bus, but he gave me a pretty good tour and explained the different routes and what would work best for me. I of course thanked him for the tour, and told him that if he ever saw me getting on his bus again, he should tell me to get off.
Funny thing, the next day, he was subbing on a route, the one I wanted. I got on the bus, looked up and he was laughing again. Before I paid, I asked him if this was the right bus, he told me of course. He even told me not to worry, he remembered my stop. Which was a good thing, because I had forgot where I was supposed to get off for that route.
5 FEB 2010: Roger Stabauch's Birthday, wow, the man is 68. Interesting Fact that only me and mom know: I shook Roger Stabauch's hand when I was 6 or 7, along with Tom Landry's. When I was young, mom was trying her best to find me a sport that I would like, other than football. She signed me up for tumbling (I wasn't that good), wrestling (I didn't care much for it) and soccer (1 for 3 is pretty good mom). At one of the practices in my shortlived wrestling career, Roger Stabauch was making a publicity visit to my wrestling practice and we all shook his hand. I had no idea who he was until later than night when mom told me it was number 12. I immediately knew who it was then. Fan for life. I met Tom Landry later at a Cub Scout meeting, I think.
Super Bowl Pick: I really want the Saints to win, they are fun to watch, but I think the Colts will win. But, I will stick with the Saints to win.
Yup, me, Special Forces, one of the few Green Berets, Airborne, Ranger, Combat Diver, chest full of medals, a Lieutenant Colonel with 22 years in the Army, 2 invasions, 3 occupations, trained Armies all over Africa, I make coffee in the Pentagon.
But, there is a reason why. If you want something done right, do it yourself. This morning, the coffee collective I had joined was out of coffee grounds. Tragedy. I wanted real coffee. Someone had made a pot of coffee with some namby pamby, chocolate something or other, gift box, left-over coffee and it was clearly inferior. Not only was it bad coffee, but it was poorly made: Weak, watery, not nearly enough grounds for the pot. My rule, if you use less than a heaping tablespoon for each cup, and then a little more, step aside and let me make it.
Here are the rules of the coffee collective:
1. Put some dang money in the money can if you want some coffee. Folks do this, so it is pretty cool.
2. When one of the two coffee pots runs out, make another pot. Get some water, get a new filter, get some new grounds and make a pot. Don't be lazy, and don't you dare put the coffee pot back in the maker with less than a cup in it, that is wrong.
3. Don't be a coffee vulture: Someone that recognizes a coffee pot is empty and does nothing about it, circling around the snackroom, waiting for someone else to make a new pot. Then swooping in.
4. When there is no coffee left in the cupboard, get some money out of the can, go down to the drug store in the Pentagon mall (yes, there is a mall in the Pentagon, along with a Starbucks, 2 Dunkin Donuts, a McDonald's, a mini-Best Buy (really), various other shops, a laundry facility, a couple of food courts and a no-kidding, sit down restaurant) and buy some more coffee. It is a CVS Pharmacy, so take your discount card with you, the coffee might be on sale. I saved 5 bucks this morning.
5. Don't use the weak-ass leftover coffee that someone brought in because they didn't want to keep it around their house. If it was good coffee, they would have kept it at home.
This morning, it was my turn to go buy the coffee, so I bit the bullet and took the walk to the CVS and bought the coffee. I regularly make a pot , and really like to drink it with my oatmeal in the morning. Two cups, with honey, that's it, nothing past 0930.
Life at the Pentagon
I kind of like it. Dad was a little worried, he thought I would have to work hard (which he thinks I don't particularly care for, dunno why), but I am in a good group of folks, doing good work that will lead to success in Afghanistan (just like there was success in Iraq) and I have a pretty good boss, a Navy Captain, but that is OK. Although we do come in kind of early (at the desk around 0720ish), he doesn't mind if I sneak off around lunch to get a second workout in, and if I really need a day or afternoon off, he is all for it. Because we are both Metro Travellers, we try to leave about 5:15/5:30 unless something comes up, which happens, we are at war you know.
The Metro
I now ride the bus and Metro to work. I am not sure how many folks out there do this, but the first few weeks were VERY stressful. I felt like a 3d grader everytime I got on the bus: Is this the right bus, where do I get off, is that my street, is that my neighborhood, did I remember my Metro card, did I bring my lunch? I have pretty much figured out the schedule now, know which buses to ride and have figured out which of the Metro stations to use (Franconia/Springfield in the morning and Van Dorn in the afternoon). Unlike the myths, there are some really nice folks that are more than happy to help you figure out the buses and timetables.
One of the bus drivers was particularly helpful, although he was laughing at me. I got on his bus, and almost immediately realized I was on the wrong bus. Once the bus emptied out, I started chatting with him; he said he knew immediately that I was on the wrong bus, he knew the look. "Normally, when someone looks at their map, the schedule, their watch, then gets a pissed off look on their face, they are on the wrong bus, when I saw you do that, I got a chuckle." He of course had to keep going on his route, so I was stuck on the bus, but he gave me a pretty good tour and explained the different routes and what would work best for me. I of course thanked him for the tour, and told him that if he ever saw me getting on his bus again, he should tell me to get off.
Funny thing, the next day, he was subbing on a route, the one I wanted. I got on the bus, looked up and he was laughing again. Before I paid, I asked him if this was the right bus, he told me of course. He even told me not to worry, he remembered my stop. Which was a good thing, because I had forgot where I was supposed to get off for that route.
5 FEB 2010: Roger Stabauch's Birthday, wow, the man is 68. Interesting Fact that only me and mom know: I shook Roger Stabauch's hand when I was 6 or 7, along with Tom Landry's. When I was young, mom was trying her best to find me a sport that I would like, other than football. She signed me up for tumbling (I wasn't that good), wrestling (I didn't care much for it) and soccer (1 for 3 is pretty good mom). At one of the practices in my shortlived wrestling career, Roger Stabauch was making a publicity visit to my wrestling practice and we all shook his hand. I had no idea who he was until later than night when mom told me it was number 12. I immediately knew who it was then. Fan for life. I met Tom Landry later at a Cub Scout meeting, I think.
Super Bowl Pick: I really want the Saints to win, they are fun to watch, but I think the Colts will win. But, I will stick with the Saints to win.
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