The Time Has Come

Well, this may be my last post for a few days. The exercise ended today, a day ahead of schedule. Most of the office is torn down and all the internet guys are rounding up their wires and cables.

The 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment got a lot of good training while we were here. It was a rough start, but as the exercise progressed, they learned a lot and didn’t repeat their mistakes. I am confident that they will do a lot better in Iraq than they would have if we hadn’t come here. This will be their second tour there. As a matter of fact, we replaced them in Fallujah when I was there. I still remember being pissed off that I’d have to go to Fallujah when we were all packed to go home, but we do what we have to do.

Colorado is a nice place. It’s actually not as cold as I thought it would be. When I used to think of Colorado in the winter time, I thought it was always snow-covered. Not the case. It’s colder than at home, but I like it. You get used to it quick and before you know, you’re a maniac driving around with your windows down in 40 degree weather because it “warmed up.” The consequences of that, of course, is the cold I’ve just come down with. I’m going to try and kick it before I go home, but if I don’t, then I’ll just pass it along to family as a welcome home present. I’ve been sneezing like crazy and blowing my nose.

Tomorrow should be a busy day. We have to pack up all our equipment and get it on a truck headed back to Fort Irwin. We have all the flight information finally finished. Tomorrow, I’m supposed to be getting a coin from someone for my hard work in keeping track of everyone and getting them home. I must say it was a huge effort, but not worthy of a coin. Someone had to do it. Keeping track of 168 moving pieces isn’t a fun task. I’ll try to heed my recruiters advice against volunteering the next time this happens. Actually, I’ll just ensure they have someone nominated BEFORE we leave.

I’ve been listening to my wife’s music to feel a little closer to her lately. I can only take so much separation before I get antsy about being away from her. It bothers me that the kids give her a hard time when I’m gone. She’s got a tough enough life without them making it harder when I’m not there to help. She listens to music that is a lot more mellow than I normally listen to. As a matter of fact, she’s the reason I no longer listen to death metal. I used to listen to group like Death Angel, Voivod, Slayer, Cannibal Corpse, Danzig, etc. She introduced me to bands like The Cure, Depeche Mode, and other pop/rock bands. I stopped listening to my music almost altogether, though my music still tends to be heavier. I now listen to bands like Static-X, Godsmack, Metallica (didn’t stop listening to them actually), Taproot, Korn, Tool, etc. I also love Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice In Chains (and their various offshoots), Collective Soul, Nickelback, and others. I guess almost anything rock. And I can’t leave out my recent favorite band – The Cure. Boy, did I miss out on a lot of depressing music when I was younger ?! They could have helped me through a lot of break-ups that’s for sure. There’s nothing like a song to make you feel worse when you break up with someone.

What is it with us anyway when we’re teenagers? Whenever we felt sad, we’d listen to sad music that just reminded us of the last “love of our life” and made us cry. We’d feel worse for longer. Instead of getting on with our pathetic little lives, we locked ourselves in our rooms and wrote in our journals about how life can’t go on any longer. I’m sure I’ll relive it again when my kids become teenagers. Well, my daughter’s won’t. They’ll be well into their 30’s before they even start dating. As a matter of fact, I’m having a basement built to lock them in as soon the urge to like boys surfaces. Homeschooling will no longer be an option but a necessity. They’ll think that every guy looks like me since I’ll be the only one they’ll see. Then, when they turn 35, I’ll introduce them to the guy they’ll marry and everyone will live happily ever after.

Some people have told me this may be slightly illegal. In that case, I must invest in a shotgun and very shiny pistol that I can polish whenever the boys are over. I’ll babble incoherently do crazy things that will scare them off. When I open the door, I’ll be wearing nothing but speedos and a clown nose. I’ll gain 50 pounds so I block the entire doorway so they can’t slip past me. Then, I’ll place trap doors in the hall that will trip when I push a button. I may have to watch the Indiana Jones movies again to get some other ideas.

As for my son, he’s grounded until adulthood too. I don’t need someone else’s dad calling or coming over to my house complaining that my son was dating his daughter without permission. I’ll have to teach him that you NEVER date someone until AFTER you’ve met their parents. When I was younger, I always made it a point to get to know the parents of my girlfriend. Emily’s parents are like real parents to me. Her dad used to lie to her mom to get us in trouble so we couldn’t see each other. He was a great dad for Emily. He did everything he could to keep us apart, like all good dad’s should do. You can’t blame him with a guy like me dating her. I had a lot of improving to do to be worthy of her. I’m still working on it.

So, if you don’t hear from me for a few days, I’m in transit. I’ll get back on and post more when I get home. I’ll also start putting some pictures up when I get back. This blog is just way too boring without them.

So, until I make it home, I am……..

CJ

One Comment on “The Time Has Come

  1. Ok, so I’ll share what I did to my oldest. My mom sent me this in an email a couple years ago. I took it to my husbands office and printed it on the plotter on 3 foot wide paper in 1 inch block letters. I printed 1-5 on one sheet and 6-10 on the other and hung them on either side of the entrance hall. I may have to post this in two segments, but we’ll see 🙂

    Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk you’d better be delivering a package, because you’re sure not picking anything up.

    Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter’s body, I will remove them.

    Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don’t take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object.

    However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the course of you date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

    Rule Four: I’m sure you’ve been told that in today’s world, sex without utilizing a “Barrier method” of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

    Rule Five: It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from
    you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: early.

    Rule Six: I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

    Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don’t you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

    Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to introduce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka-zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

    Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless God of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

    Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a desert berm near Baghdad. When my Desert Storm Syndrome starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveways you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car-there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.