In The Spirit

A great thanks is owed to Joan this morning for a tale that has finally worked free a bit of holiday spirit in me. Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, being a fan of costume and darkness.

But this year I simply couldn’t muster up a bit of care for it. The boxes still stacked away, the plastic pumpkins and strands of orange lights not making an appearance. Too tired, too busy and simply not in the mood. Too somber, really, to be frivolous.

Which is such a complete departure for me that I am seriously wondering Why.

So I’ll get the candy from the store and don something that will be in the spirit of the thing, something to please the children. And remember dimly those holidays of the past with the cardboard cutouts of quartermoon gliding witches and hump backed black cats.

Long Days

Here I am, caring for a little office work while Trooper finishes his shift. Yes, it’s Saturday. What can I say? I have a lot going on…

The good news? Looks like my one boss is ditching the PIMA APAC job. WOOT!!! How I hate dealing with them! First, there’s the whole time zone issue and then there is the whole spoiled brat issue since they are used to having one person do only their stuff. PFFT. I have 5 bosses, folks. Take a number.

The bad news? He is needed for more pressing items. Like…what is the company going to do in light of int’l finance issues? Oh, I don’t worry for MY job, no. I am fortunate in that regard. And we’re top heavy. But…it’s complicated. If you don’t work in a very -er – VERY large company you have no idea how the spokes from the hub impact so many other things. I guess it’s more web-like, really, where a trembling in one part resonates in another. Suffice to say I shall remain busy for quite some time.

Anyway, yesterday was a real craptacular day…Trooper was on-call and exhausted after doing a 15 hr “part-time” on a movie set here in town, on his feet all day. (If you have the book An Anthropologist On Mars by Oliver Sacks, the story is in there – the last one – about the lady who developed a cattle pen and processing concept, Temple Grandin. EXCELLENT book, BTW.) So he went to bed wiped out.

The phone rang just before 5a. I heard it, heard his silencing the noise, and heard his settling back down in bed. And then his rapid snatching of the cell and recovering the number and message. You could almost hear his thoughts, “Phone, on call, dispatch…”. Turns out it was an ejection, possible fatality wreck and not too far from the house. I rose and started the coffee that was still 30 minutes away from brewing. Stumbling about, I let the dog out, and fed the cats who thought it wonderful I was awake on time for a change.

Trooper forced sleep away with a quick dousing of his face and brush of the flattop. At least the coffee was mostly done before he left. He dressed quickly but not too quickly, not wanting to forget anything. Process ensures preparedness. And then, he was gone into the quite chill air of dark, dark pre-dawn.

It was a sad scene, really. A youth with freshly printed license who decided to drive with an older relative after drinking. The driver, of course, was fine. The relative did not survive the trip. Unfortunately, word drew out the relatives long before victim services arrived. Notification on-scene is unpleasant but sometimes necessary. After they left, it was time to paint the scene. Still dark, he did what he could, flagging points in the grass, taking photos. Later, he would return with his associate and add more paint (with the new irksome method of coding each wheel with dots, dashes, whatever concept you wish to apply and a sort of “key” at the start of each wheel’s departure into mayhem).

So it was 5a-6p, most of it dealing with forms, teletypes, warrants and the like. He came in, apologizing for his attitude during the day. As usual, we went to the bedroom after he put the uniform aside, laying there and just talking about the day, petting the dog. I don’t mind the topic, the details, the review. Not at all. And it decompresses him so that he can breathe easy and just be “off duty”. And, as usual, I left him to rest – the 30 or 60 minutes being all he needs to come back fresh.

A new blogger – new on this topic anyway – has commented here and has the same inquiry on her post about ride-alongs. Sometimes I wish I could spend more hours with him and it’d be nice, yes. But it is so different here. They transport their own arrests – in the front seat. He would never want me exposed to that. Nor would he need the distraction. Too, we can be a few miles from home or be called over 30 miles away to the other side of the county. And if it’s a fatality? You have about 3 hours of misc crap to do. So…I just watch the DVDs and it’s enough.

I don’t really mind the being apart as much in the day – admittedly, that evening shift is harder. But even then…it’s nice to have that separation. Besides, he is in Trooper mode, not fun husband mode. Nope, he’s ALL business. Perhaps it is because I am older. Heck, I dunno. It sure makes the time you DO have together more valuable.

So…that’s about it. That’s how it has been lately…his telling me to stay off the damned office email at night and me calling to see how much longer he’s going to be. LOL But tonight it’s dinner with friends and their baby. I LOVE babies when they are only around a few hours. It may be the last peace we have since his Sgt is headed out of town for a month and Trooper is In Charge. Mmm, mmm…

Interestingly…a local PD stopped by the house the other night. Seems the Chief is “retiring”. Asked Trooper if he’d be interested. My eyebrow went up. Indeed? Well, now…let’s just get this whole Trooper thing finished, shall we? But I could see he was flattered, knew how he’d run that show. And I will “cop” to feeling a surge of pride in my bosom. That’s my man. Hell, yeah.

Wherein I Am Horrid

It was a lovely Sunday. Woke not too early and departed for the local Ren Fest. The day started innocently enough…Ded Bob, some rockin’ bagpipes and drums…but we all needed a little something. I bragged on the glory that is mead.

I can say little more about that day. The photo was at the end wherein my husband kindly captured the final bit of debauchery. (The indelicate hand belongs to a relative – it is not mine. I am merely pointing to it – her debauchery, I mean. Ahem.)

He was short, yes. But so…in the spirit of the game, one might say.

Trooper was loving it, of course. All day mocking the two women folk who were lost in their mead. At one point I was so off my game as to be mocked by a wandering Pretzel Vendor. A minor one at that! True, he rattled off the types of wares he had too fast and I laughingly asked him to slow down. “Sallllttteeeyyyy, Parrrrmmmmeeeesahhhhnnnn…”

The little whelp! I had to take out my hanky, hide my face, and wail, “I am so ashamed!” as I laughed til I cried. Shortly after, ignoring the joust, I whispered to my brother, “Shh! She’sh drunk!” He nearly went down the hill on that one. Which only then brought on a battle of the witless, “We burn. Fiery pitsth of hewl. Flamesth.”

Dear me, I’ve no idea what we were doing but I was having a blast. I haven’t had that much to drink since I wasn’t legal to drink. But I was, at least, a polite drunk. We managed to wend our way through the fare with very little instigation. Still, I didn’t want to be the predictable “drunk lady at the fair”. It is almost as bad as the “too much boob for the outfit” gal.

No worries. There is little photographic evidence of ME. Trooper, however, was assaulted by some wenches and brought on stage and of that there is ample evidence. Of course, his LT was there. He was assaulted, too, but only briefly.

A wonderful bit of fun followed by a very rough day at work. Still, Stubby the Barbarian makes me smile. As does this new finding. If it doesn’t work, well, tough. I’m hungover.

You can figure it out. You’re all far smarter than I after all. (Or is that than me? Sigh…)

Off with ye…

Circling Vultures and Pleasanter Things

Oh, I do love how the world is waking only now to all those things that so many of us have been saying all along. Ohio? “Nothing to see here. Move along!” Nationalizing banks? “We’ve got to keep our phoney baloney jobs, men!” But this…oh, this is rich, indeed.

API and Michelle Obama’s Call To Order

First, Chief Editor Korir’s family ought to check on the life insurance because his life will be cheap, indeed, to those he is fighting. And I hope he has those tapes very carefully secured. A Swiss bank lockbox won’t suffice. Finally, it brings on the very question ignored from the start – is the man even legally permitted to apply for the job?

Oh, rich – RICH – this drama, this denouement.

And so, we prepare in this home. Crossfit is our current focus in order to be ready for whatever may come. He speaks in tongues upstairs, the weights crashing and sweat flying. It truly makes a mere 20 minutes worth 60.

It’s his 4-day with no obligations outside of fun until Monday when he’ll work for a tidy sum to protect some HBO “talent” as they film in our small town. (I’m thinking of walking Ranger nearby and see if he is “discovered”.) So maybe tomorrow we ought to go shooting. I think I’m recovered enough for at least the handguns and maybe a few test rounds through my new baby…

As everything seems to spiral around me, roadkill eyes reflecting the dark wings above, I turn to things that bring an ease to the soul. One of those things is drums. I don’t know why but the intensity herein thrills me. Always has. Primal, strong, stirring, and full of integrity…the video is shakey but not needed anyway. Just listen and sharpen something. (Lift of the kilt to the kind soul in Rachel Lucas’ comments for the referral…)

Just in time for Sunday’s trip to Plantersville…shall I dress for it? I don’t know. I usually do but then I also used to go alone. It is Fantasy weekend, after all…and I need that escape just now.

Eye Candy

I suppose the following could be considered inappropriate by many but I think it a kind of artistry. Back in the day, I was treated to such things now and again and it was great fun. Mind you, they were the finer establishments…

This is lovely.

I’d forgotten all the words left behind until this evening when I mused over the above and remembered. My God, it was good.

At lunch, with my eyes glittering hard and my words offering no retreat, he
asked me “Is this really you? Are you always like this?” “No,” I thought. “Not
always. We are, occasionally, worse.”

Nigh unto 20 years ago…