Archive for April, 2012


Me to a tee. Since I’ve started my Masters I realize that I really suck at tests. I’m not sure why I do so poorly on them when the rest of my work is graded stellar. Subconscious maybe.

In any event I have been studying my ass off, and writing a term paper so my time has been pretty much limited. Unfortunately this is one of the things that immediately gets ditched when I run out of time.

I can’t apologize, its a conscious decision.  We have to decide where our priorities lay, and unfortunately for me my number one priority is my degree as I have a very large chunk of hopes and dreams for me and mine riding on it. So this, my gaming, my yard-work,  even my sleep all take a back seat to making sure I literally make the grade.

The down side is this is my vent, my place to let some of that compounded frustration out.

Hopefully no one cuts me off on the way to work *grin*

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This will be short as I need to get out the door but I have told myself I would get better at this

Was a great weekend.

Storm Chasing.

Celtic Woman show. (You haven’t lived until your 7 year old is leaning against you in your seat  awe struck and whispers “Daddy….they are AMAZING!”)

Took Critter to Sea Life

Oriental Massages for everyone but the Critter who was very disturbed by our enthusiasm.

Was a truly Great time.

Now I need time off from my vacation, no?

Back to the grind. However I am hoping I’m not coming down with my coworkers flu.Its either just the amount of driving we have done since Friday or my head is becoming mucus breeding grounds. I’m hoping its the former not the latter

 

 

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I consider anyone whom has let me and mine sleep at their house, fed me, shown me the local sights in their area and effectively treat me like family a friend.

Which is to say I consider Blake Powers a friend. Through the years we have passed E-mails, occasional telephone calls and sworn we will have to get together again but the timing is always bad.

Now we have another reason to get together and host a couple of jars.

See Blake has finally published his book regarding his military embed time. You can find a copy here that will not only help Blake but also help with his pet military assistance project Cooking with The Troops.

As DBS rightly points out Blake isn’t in to advertising. But thats what we’re for right? ;)

So if you get a chance, pick up a copy of the book. It will be well worth your time, and a good read.

Consider this a strong recommendation from yours truly the “book snob”.

 

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I had a dream this morning.

Not a Martin Luther style, but one that comes of being relaxed in warm blankets on a spring Easter morning.

I was dreaming of being a kid again in my grand parents yard.

My grandparents and whatever aunts and uncles as well as my own parents (if any of the aforementioned were home from deployment) would all be on the porch following service and playing old bluegrass gospel tunes. We kids would be scattered throughout the front yard chasing easter eggs and what not. My grandfather would tie fishing line to June bugs and Japanese beetles for us to fly around the yard. The smell of friend chicken and collard greens coming from my grandparents home. Fresh cut grass drying for hay and a morning dew so thick you could wash in it.

My grandpa had a Wurlitzer player. He’d put Jimmy Rogers on in the evenings most days, but for Easter it was always home grown. Except for Sunday service. No music was allowed during service, just voices which always struck me as odd for no sooner than we would get home then the instruments come out, the porch chairs be occupied and the music start.

 

 

It was so real, and I was so young I could feel the dew soaking my shoes and my socks making my feet squish when I would wiggle my toes. I could hear the hum of the beetles and the far off cigar tinged voice of my grandfather singing Silver Haired Daddy of Mine.

I am not a very religious person. I should be,  given my luck and the guilty conscious I was born with tells me I had best be and that I need to improve vastly.  But I find the dedication hard, given some things that I have witnessed and seen through the years here and in other countries. It all seems so futile sometimes. But I digress.

I won’t spoil my daughter with my terrors. For her, Easter is a day of service, eggs, chocolates, chicken and buttermilk biscuits for breakfast, and play time with her immediately family. It’s a time of home cooked meals, beautiful days with flowers in bloom.

My uncle, Charles Marshall, his trademark grin, his beloeved Ovation guitar, and a quick wit for those around him.

Religious or not I can’t help but feel a bit home sick, and a closeness to my relatives whom have been called home. My Aunt Betty who had a crooning voice so suited to Hobo Bill’s Last Ride it would give you chills when she sang it.  My grandfather, whose favorite song was most likely Little Log Cabin in the Lane. My Uncle Charlie who specialized in old cowboy songs and who, if I must admit, I modeled myself after in so many ways. He’s jovialness, always a smile, his ability to take everything in stride. I never had a chance to tell him before he was taken away. It always seemed so unmasculine, and immature. Now to feel that foolishness for just even a moment.  He would sing the yodeling cowboy songs with a brash grin spread across his face, like All Around the Water Tank.

My Grandfather, Arvil Stanley, how he remains in my mind: ball cap, cigar, and playing on his porch

In my head this morning we were all rejoined, and we kids played on in awe. Now I wish I could go back, for just a moment and play, and learn from them. To cover those old songs that my peers have never heard and have no memory of. The music can’t die with us, and it can’t go with them either. We must let it play on, for as I awake I realize that every time I try to play it, they are playing with me.

As the morning sun creeps in to my room, I try in vain to return to sleep, return to those days and that moment in time.

But we can’t go back. Home is never really home once you leave, trust me on this. But it is the place your always called back to by those who know you least while knowing you most.

Perhaps one day. But for now I have my memories, which I have chosen to share with you.

 

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So I had been putting this off repeatedly but Homefront Six inadvertently reminded me that I needed to get my shit together and get this published, as the time frame is upon us.

Having worked the aftermath of the Joplin tornado, and doing storm tracking/chasing for the last few years I don’t consider myself anything close to an expert. However, between that and my military training I have a pretty good idea of what not to do (nothing!) and some direct experience in what may help you survive a very dangerous and deadly experience. I am no expert, I can not guarantee you or your families lives as there are just too many variables. I can say that it can’t hurt to be prepared, and I’d rather be prepared than left with absolutely nothing which is what many people found themselves with here in Missouri this time last year.

So I boned up on my research material, dug in to my old manuals and training notes from years gone by and here is what I consider probably the best (short term) program for tornado/disaster prepping.

Please take this seriously, this is not a doomsday-apocalypse-the-sky-is-falling-day-after-tommorow fantasy where you will appear on the other side in a Jerry Ahern novel (although I do like his books!). The point of this is to help you and your family possibly survive a very dangerous situation that can occur.

If you don’t want help, then find something else to read.

Lets Begin.

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