Christmas came and Christmas went. Like most holidays it was enjoyable but unremarkable. Visited with family, completed a puzzle, saw some lights on some boats in a marina. I got a lovely watch and Lucca got Horny. I tried to surf by gulping sea water. We all had some pie.
The trip ended, as all family trips are required to end, with me forgetting an article of clothing behind. In this case it was my Aggie ring; which my mom sent back to me wrapped in a sock. Wrapped in another sock. Wrapped in a package. Packed in a box. Which was then stuffed in a chicken, stuffed in a duck, stuffed in a turkey.
Anyways, here's the pictures. Not much to look at. Move along people.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Prosecutors Will Be Violated
Sometimes we need to be protected, and sometimes we need to be protected from ourselves. Thankfully that is where the Vistana apartment management comes in: to ruthlessly wield the iron club of justice on all who would perpetrate wrong doing. Wrong doing in this case defined by a monthly one page handout.
Each month like so many apartment complexes the Vistana provides us with a newsletter of sorts consisting of a few entirely uninteresting articles on entirely random subjects, a couple quotes about nonsense, a recipe for those who get their recipes from newsletters, and an empty calendar for those who need to know when Christmas and Boxing Day are since these are typically the only kind of events that makes it onto the list. Enclosed with our newsletters, however, is frequently another slip of paper. Sometimes white, sometimes pink, suggestive of something fun, fun it is not. No, it is the monthly reminder of things not to do pending criminal prosecution and summary execution. Don't throw boxes down the trash chute! Don't have too many guests over! Don't let others through the parking gate without paying the parking bridge troll! Don't smile unnecessarily or yield the right of way! Don't let your pets! The list goes on and on.
A few days ago, perhaps fearing people were just throwing their silly newsletters away without at least perusing through its pages, they decided to be more direct. I came home to find a note stuck in the corner of my door. With Christmas tree clip art affixed to the bottom corner of it I thought perhaps they were having some sort of holiday social, but no, they were putting us on notice:
Don't get me wrong. I have mostly enjoyed my stay at the Vistana so far, by and large, and knowing the general good nature of the office staff I am inclined to believe their threats are mostly bellicose posturing. Nevertheless I fear the clap of storm trooper boots in the hall and often lie awake at night for fear of a knock at the door. I may not live for long, but the struggle to use the pool after 10:00 pm will go on forever!
Each month like so many apartment complexes the Vistana provides us with a newsletter of sorts consisting of a few entirely uninteresting articles on entirely random subjects, a couple quotes about nonsense, a recipe for those who get their recipes from newsletters, and an empty calendar for those who need to know when Christmas and Boxing Day are since these are typically the only kind of events that makes it onto the list. Enclosed with our newsletters, however, is frequently another slip of paper. Sometimes white, sometimes pink, suggestive of something fun, fun it is not. No, it is the monthly reminder of things not to do pending criminal prosecution and summary execution. Don't throw boxes down the trash chute! Don't have too many guests over! Don't let others through the parking gate without paying the parking bridge troll! Don't smile unnecessarily or yield the right of way! Don't let your pets! The list goes on and on.
A few days ago, perhaps fearing people were just throwing their silly newsletters away without at least perusing through its pages, they decided to be more direct. I came home to find a note stuck in the corner of my door. With Christmas tree clip art affixed to the bottom corner of it I thought perhaps they were having some sort of holiday social, but no, they were putting us on notice:
Christmas celebrators beware! Security cameras and informants have reported the disposal of Christmas trees in the loading dock trash containers! This is a grievous offense. Anyone caught disposing of trees anywhere in the building will be put to death.This is of course a rough paraphrase. The actual penalty was specified as "a removal fee" but it turns out this means be put to death.
Don't get me wrong. I have mostly enjoyed my stay at the Vistana so far, by and large, and knowing the general good nature of the office staff I am inclined to believe their threats are mostly bellicose posturing. Nevertheless I fear the clap of storm trooper boots in the hall and often lie awake at night for fear of a knock at the door. I may not live for long, but the struggle to use the pool after 10:00 pm will go on forever!
Monday, December 28, 2009
Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts
The Air Force giveth and the Air Force taketh away. All for national security reasons no doubt.
Recently I was given the “opportunity” to “be recognized” for all my “hard work” researching by working harder in order to summarize succinctly all said research on a not very conveniently sized laminated poster. This poster would then be displayed briefly in a room somewhere for people to pass by with indifference. For those not so easily persuaded, the best poster presented would earn the presenter a trip to Toronto to the national American College of Physicians (ACP) conference to take place in the spring. Being the eager, young resident that I was I presented my research like a sucker.
And I won. I won the research poster competition, and so qualified for the national ACP conference and, more importantly, a few days off work in order to attend. Or so I thought. It turns out I won nothing of the sort. Unbeknownst to the majority of us it seems there is a clause that if there are heaven forbid too many winners from our program only the power point research presenters actually really “wins.” Truly we were all winners, yes, but the winner that got the prize was not me. In all fairness I only competed against other Air Force medicine programs and so had a roughly thirty-three percent chance of winning just by showing up and affixing my name and a doodle to a 3x5 card – which in restrospect is what I should have done – but I was not too happy. As consolation prize I was given a plaque, a hardy congratulations, and an offer to return to work promptly to resume my prior duties. Those duties being on call. I would have liked going to Toronto and I would have liked not thinking maybe something nice could happen for my efforts, but Canada’s full of lumberjacks and grizzly bears I hear and nothing builds character like profound disappointment so perhaps it's all for the best.
Meanwhile the research train continues. Where else will it take me? I can only wait and dread.
Recently I was given the “opportunity” to “be recognized” for all my “hard work” researching by working harder in order to summarize succinctly all said research on a not very conveniently sized laminated poster. This poster would then be displayed briefly in a room somewhere for people to pass by with indifference. For those not so easily persuaded, the best poster presented would earn the presenter a trip to Toronto to the national American College of Physicians (ACP) conference to take place in the spring. Being the eager, young resident that I was I presented my research like a sucker.
And I won. I won the research poster competition, and so qualified for the national ACP conference and, more importantly, a few days off work in order to attend. Or so I thought. It turns out I won nothing of the sort. Unbeknownst to the majority of us it seems there is a clause that if there are heaven forbid too many winners from our program only the power point research presenters actually really “wins.” Truly we were all winners, yes, but the winner that got the prize was not me. In all fairness I only competed against other Air Force medicine programs and so had a roughly thirty-three percent chance of winning just by showing up and affixing my name and a doodle to a 3x5 card – which in restrospect is what I should have done – but I was not too happy. As consolation prize I was given a plaque, a hardy congratulations, and an offer to return to work promptly to resume my prior duties. Those duties being on call. I would have liked going to Toronto and I would have liked not thinking maybe something nice could happen for my efforts, but Canada’s full of lumberjacks and grizzly bears I hear and nothing builds character like profound disappointment so perhaps it's all for the best.
Meanwhile the research train continues. Where else will it take me? I can only wait and dread.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Eureka
After years of fruitless endeavor and untold hardship our efforts have finally paid off. We have found it. Where others have failed, we have overcome. Where Cabot and Cartier floundered, we have flourished exceedingly. Where Frobisher and Hudson were led astray, we have stayed on course. Where the combined treasuries of the Europe's monarchies came up empty, we have had success overwhelming. Etcetera, etcetera; the Northwest Passage is ours!
It took three voyages and countless man hours, but on the third and final trip, in the two thousand and nineth year of our Lord, we came upon the hallowed land long last. After years of searching, a route from the Vistana downtown (star B) to Olmos Basin Park (star A) via the northwest route* was finally discovered. A bike route free from coarse winds, perilous icebergs, and large poorly driven motor vehicles does exist! The first ill-fated voyage attempted the most direct route via the southern terminus of the park but resulted only in scurvy and discord at the heavily trafficked and unpassable Hildebrand Avenue. The second venture, only a few months later, similarly ended in disaster as the expedition was set adrift chasing empty trade wind after trade wind trying to approach the basin from its eastern summit. The most recent voyage would likely itself have ended in calamity as the intrepid explorers sailed dangerously north on their attempted western approach, but steadfast spirit and a trusty sextant allowed for the charting of a new course and the safe arrival at the appointed destination. A poorly maintained mountain biking trail littered in trash.
On the safe return to harbor raucous celebrations broke out. Crates of beaver pelts were unloaded, plans were made to subjugate the local indigenous populations, and war was declared on the French. The triumphant bike was placed in dry dock in the apartment storage room while the crew retired to a triumphant dinner of burgers and shakes at Freddy's. Trade with Russia is expected to pick up shortly.
* Nevermind that the route is not actually so northwest. It certainly *felt* like I was going northwest.
It took three voyages and countless man hours, but on the third and final trip, in the two thousand and nineth year of our Lord, we came upon the hallowed land long last. After years of searching, a route from the Vistana downtown (star B) to Olmos Basin Park (star A) via the northwest route* was finally discovered. A bike route free from coarse winds, perilous icebergs, and large poorly driven motor vehicles does exist! The first ill-fated voyage attempted the most direct route via the southern terminus of the park but resulted only in scurvy and discord at the heavily trafficked and unpassable Hildebrand Avenue. The second venture, only a few months later, similarly ended in disaster as the expedition was set adrift chasing empty trade wind after trade wind trying to approach the basin from its eastern summit. The most recent voyage would likely itself have ended in calamity as the intrepid explorers sailed dangerously north on their attempted western approach, but steadfast spirit and a trusty sextant allowed for the charting of a new course and the safe arrival at the appointed destination. A poorly maintained mountain biking trail littered in trash.
On the safe return to harbor raucous celebrations broke out. Crates of beaver pelts were unloaded, plans were made to subjugate the local indigenous populations, and war was declared on the French. The triumphant bike was placed in dry dock in the apartment storage room while the crew retired to a triumphant dinner of burgers and shakes at Freddy's. Trade with Russia is expected to pick up shortly.
Charted route: Third Voyage
* Nevermind that the route is not actually so northwest. It certainly *felt* like I was going northwest.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
It's Just a Shot
Yesterday I got my H1N1 influenza vaccination. So far so good. It started with some sniffles but I believe my transformation is advancing along nicely. Soon I will be a government super soldier complements of classified, black document bioengineering. Unless I got my conspiracy theories mixed up in which case I'm becoming a remote controlled, Manchurian candidate. Or maybe a disfigured, brain-craving zombie? Teenage mutant ninja turtle with Guillain-Barré? At least I know no microchips were placed as I received the FluMist nasal spray instead of the injection, but maybe the nanobots burrowing into my brain would just have me believe that. Either way, whatever the result, I am comfortable with the knowledge that I am protected from the swine flu and any other man made virus monstrosity the Chinese government throws at me. Man, my DNA hurts.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Turkeys
Had Thanksgiving at Team Crabtree's place last week. It was, mostly, delicious, and the time was, mostly, a good time. Wanted to share a few pictures. And hate on a dog.
Second, the fixins. After hours of labor -- Ashley's not mine -- we finally had ourselves some food. From top going clockwise we have the cooked parts of the turkey, the less cooked carcass of the turkey, "rolls", my attempt at some sort of candied yam thing, some tasty stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, creamed corn soup, and a ceramic bird full of gravy. All in all a good dinner aside from a continuous background chorus compliments of Sparky the Chihuahua.
And, lastly, the what the hell is this? If you guessed Nerf football cut in half and placed in a Pyrex baking dish you would be only partially correct. For reasons unknown squash was on the menu until a prolonged bake yielded this. A very comfortable bike seat. Due to unforeseen complications in preparation the squash was ditched in favor of eating Patsy the Chihuahua instead.
For more Thanksgiving photos including pictures of Cupcake the Corgi, Sushi the... some sort of dog, and Spunky the Chihuahua; check it out! The rest of the weekend was spent playing video games. Just as the Pilgrims did back in 1776.
First, the board. The central hub of organization and scheduling. Why Adam and Ashley have a gigantic white marker board I am not entirely sure, but it came in handy when we finally started preparing dinner at 1100. Plus how else would we have remembered to dress Spanky the Chihuahua?
Second, the fixins. After hours of labor -- Ashley's not mine -- we finally had ourselves some food. From top going clockwise we have the cooked parts of the turkey, the less cooked carcass of the turkey, "rolls", my attempt at some sort of candied yam thing, some tasty stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, creamed corn soup, and a ceramic bird full of gravy. All in all a good dinner aside from a continuous background chorus compliments of Sparky the Chihuahua.
And, lastly, the what the hell is this? If you guessed Nerf football cut in half and placed in a Pyrex baking dish you would be only partially correct. For reasons unknown squash was on the menu until a prolonged bake yielded this. A very comfortable bike seat. Due to unforeseen complications in preparation the squash was ditched in favor of eating Patsy the Chihuahua instead.
For more Thanksgiving photos including pictures of Cupcake the Corgi, Sushi the... some sort of dog, and Spunky the Chihuahua; check it out! The rest of the weekend was spent playing video games. Just as the Pilgrims did back in 1776.
Monday, November 23, 2009
My Nation Calls
Today I gave my yearly urine sample for the standard military drug screen. In light of past years difficulties I actively prehydrated. And then prehydrated some more. After an unreasonably long period of time I was finally able to give them what they wanted, and I've never stopped peeing since. I am not sure how much water I drank exactly, but I believe it would be measured in buckets. Or perhaps barrels if we were talking small barrels. I anticipate the urine flow to taper off sometime in early December assuming I don't slip into a hyponatremic coma first. Until next year.
In other news they built an IHOP underneath my apartment. Stay classy, San Antonio.
(And bring me a donut shop...)
In other news they built an IHOP underneath my apartment. Stay classy, San Antonio.
(And bring me a donut shop...)
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