I'm Packed

This morning, waiting in line to have my sea bags weighed, I was nervous. I don't own a scale, so I didn't know how much stuff I actually brought (how heavy can yarn be?), but I had a sinking feeling that I was over the 100-pound limit. As I slowly progressed to the front of the line the pit in my stomach grew proportionately. Everything I packed was essential. None of it could be left behind. I placed the bags on the scale: 97 pounds.

Success!

And He's a Drinker

I’m a sucker for gossip. I could, and often do, chat all day long. And it’s an open secret that any office I work in is less productive than that same office without me. I’m distracting. I confess benign observations and unimportant but peculiar things about myself (like the fact that I have unusually large organs), and then people laugh and they talk to me. I usually end up with my fair share of dirt.

Before Mad Dog was assigned to Det Cuba he was the chief in charge of MLO/CTR (tools and parts). While he was there he wreaked his havoc on a daily basis and his troops hated work and hated life. That’s news to no one. But I happen to know that in addition to his usual Mad Dog had a habit of calling his SW1, drunk and slurring his speech, every night of the week except Sunday. Mad Dog would tell SW1 that he was doing a good job and that if he would just stick with him, Mad Dog would make him a chief. It’s a power that he doesn’t possess.

Today our adjutant told me that Chief has been calling him in the evenings, drunk and slurring his speech, to tell him what a miserable job he’s been doing. And he told me that the same thing has been happening to a BU1. Those are the only two I know of but there could be more. I am, of course, appalled at his behavior. But more than that, I can’t understand why anyone would keep his secrets. This is an egregious misuse of power and should be reprimanded.

The men he’s picking on are weak; they lack confidence and stand with hunched shoulders. They don’t know how to tell a joke or command the attention of a room. My hunch is that Mad Dog is experienced in these matters and is choosing them because he knows he can attack safely; his prey will always retreat. The whole thing makes me feel sick and I’m not sure what to do. Why do people allow their abusers to continue? Maybe if I watched more (any) Dr. Phil I’d know the answer, but I don’t.

Something has to be done. I can’t let him hurt people.

The S2

EA2: Good afternoon Lieutenant.

S2: Good afternoon EA2. (pause...looks at me out of the corner of his eye) Do you mind explaining to me why every time I see you you're smiling?

EA2: Because this place is really really funny, sir.

I Had a Guy Offer to Fight Me Today

Now it’s true that I pack a solid punch. I understand physics and use the torque from snapping my hips to give power to my arm as it follows through. I keep my wrist straight. I lean in. And I love making contact. The abrupt stop of all the muscles in my body working in unison is satisfying. The action is jarring and it fuels me to throw harder and straighter and to be more efficient with each advance. I’ve punched padded men much bigger than me who have responded to my blows with wide eyes, a shaking head and, “Remind me not to get you mad.” Or sometimes, “You know, that would really hurt if you hit a guy like that.”

I don’t think the tool on my Det who asked me if I wanted to hit the ropes would have an appreciation for my enthusiasm. As a matter of fact I don’t think he’s much more than a needle dick who gets turned on by violence, which is fine, but I’m having no part of it. I could take him. I have the reach advantage and he looks slow. He doesn’t know I’m trained (but he must understand the reach advantage thing, it’s obvious) and I can’t believe he challenged me to a fight.

What do you say? You and me. We go somewhere. We fight.

No thanks.

Seriously, we could fight. We could even use gloves if you wanted.

Really, no thanks. Besides, I'd want head gear. I need to keep all the brain cells that I can.

Oh don’t worry, we’ll put rank aside.

I almost spit my Diet Pepsi in his face. Does he honestly think I give a shit that he’s one pay grade above me? As if rank is supposed to guide my actions? Does he think I treat him any differently than the E3 who was just in the office to have me sign his eval? Give me a fucking break.

I Trapped a Spider Under a Glass One Month and One Day Ago and It's Still Alive

Seriously, I'm thinking I should set this thing free.

The Beginning of the End

When I was home last week for my brother's wedding it was also to see my dad for the last time before he dies in a few months. So in between a pedicure with Ms. Photogenic and setting up for the rehearsal dinner I went shopping for funeral clothes. I did it because I figured that by the time the Red Cross verifies his death and contacts my command and I manage to get off Castro’s island and buy a ticket to Minneapolis from Florida I won't have time to shop. It was an odd trip. I chose a tailored but stylish knee length skirt, a high-necked sweater, and a pair of conservative but flattering shoes (I really wanted a particular pair of cheetah print flats but I thought some of the relatives might think they were too celebratory so I went with a pair of black wedges). As I was shopping I was thinking about the funeral, the eulogy, and the time that would be allotted for people to speak at the front of the room. I kept mentally searching for something positive to say about my dad. Nothing came to mind.

The night before I left, the last night I would see him alive, I wanted him to come upstairs to say goodbye to me. I wanted him to initiate contact. I wanted him to treat me like his child. So I waited until it was very late, realized he wasn't going to come up, and made the trip down to say goodbye. He boxed me in at the stairwell and I stopped on the last step. He’s tall. We were standing eye to eye.

I wanted to make sure I said goodnight.

This is probably the last time you're going to see me.

I know. That's why I came down.

Well, you take care.

I asked him a few questions to try and get him to talk and he answered them and stared at me. And he said again,

Well, you take care.

You too.

Then he walked away.


He got up early the next morning to see me off but just sat on the couch. He never got up, no hug, nothing. Just another, You take care.

I wasn't thinking and said, I'll see you later.

He responded, No, you won't.

And that was the end. No I love you or You'll always be my daughter. I could have even gone for a short graduation speech: I'm proud of you. Good luck with everything in the future. But instead it was just, Take care of yourself.

I’m thinking that unconditional love is a hoax.

I’ll bandage the wound quickly; I’m going with the theory that he feels it’s too late to fix the relationship and that if it can’t be fixed, and I don’t think it could, it’s nothing but a waste of his energy to try.

But, even so, I still think you should tell a girl you're proud of her.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Some of my favorite things that my lovely new sister-in-law said to me the weekend of the wedding:

During a pedicure:
I don't know if you know this but your mom and I are really close. pause... When are you going to have babies?

At the rehearsal dinner:
You should have seen these one bridesmaid dresses: they were so pretty. I mean so pretty. But I thought people might look at you guys more than me.

About thirty minutes before the wedding:
I'm really lucky because I'm photogenic. You're not. After looking at all the pictures at your mom's house I was really surprised when I met you. You're pretty in person.

• I submit, for the defense, Exhibit A

About ten minutes before the wedding:
I never realized how flat you are.

But through it all, at least as I remember it, I kept my cool and had a good time with my brother. We exchanged a lot of glances before, during, and after the ceremony. It was a good time.

A Call

CM2 just called to give me the skinny on this week's schedule. It's not bad. Deployment has been pushed back to Thursday so I have an extra day to get everything into place, which is a very good thing because I'm a bit of a mess. The bad news is that for whatever reason Frat Boy is out so we are officially officerless; Mad Dog is running the show. I asked how that was working out and CM2 took a deep breath and said in a low voice, You don't want to know. He's probably right.

I've Been Home Five Minutes

I've been home a matter of moments and I've already misplaced my keys. I might just go crazy in the next two days.