Yesterday turned into "afternoon/evening of call outs". The first one ended up being a bit suspicious but fortunately nothing to it. The second one on the other hand...
We got called out to a local house late that night. A homeowner got done with work, went to check the mail & saw what looked like a bomb in their mailbox. Wisely, they then decided to leave it alone & call the police. So, we then show up & do our thing figuring out what is going on.
Apparently, we have a local business who thought it would be a good idea to make up fake bombs and put them in clients mailboxes with a note about the "dynamite business" they could do.
Really? Someone not only thought of this wonderful plan, but no one else in the office stopped to say "Hold on, this might not go over too well these days."
So instead, we scared the crap out of the homeowner, we inconvenienced and scared all the neighbors moved from their homes for several hours, we tied up police & fire resources on a busy Friday night. All because you thought you'd be "different and stand out." Trust me, you did.
Everytime I read some story in our paper on a bomb squad call & people bitch about "wasting tax dollars" and such, I just want to point to things like this...
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Heard in the crew's lounge...
As a prelude to this - a few things to explain.
#1 - I love my wife dearly. My wife and I relate on many levels. But I often do not understand my wife - and for this I am grateful. For centuries men have lamented not understanding women - if we did, wouldn't life be boring? I like that there is still mystery and wonder even after these years.
#2 - Our conversations, particularly once the wee minions have gone to bed, run across an incredible gamut of subjects, often with topics bouncing convoluted leaps from one to another as we read things on our separate computers, discuss the day, share thoughts and answer each other. There are times a flow chart would help bystanders. So, this is just one night in particular. Just sayin'.
#3 - I am only allowed limited input into what my wife wears, and don't often buy her clothing - per her choice, not mine. Apparently, my taste in clothes runs a bit more "sultry/revealing" than what she would choose... So, I'm allowed to buy t-shirts and the like - but blouses, skirts etc. are strictly off limits.
Trust me, those all have a point.
So anyway - the other night, somehow during our discussions and my web searches I got onto a site that had a "steampunk kilt skirt" which I thought looked neat. To which of course she wanted to look at the link:
"Ugh! Go figure - why is it when they label it "steampunk" that it has to be all slutty and everything? All cut short and tacky." Now, keep in mind that this particular skirt/kilt was knee length and to my eye at least nothing but proper. So, I shake my head and we have some brief banter back and forth on the topic and why I like the kilt & she doesn't.
While all this is going on my internet-wandering is continuing of course, and I end up on another kilt site. I then make a comment about some micro-skirt-kilts they have while trying to find her family tartan amongst them. I also laughingly make the comment about it being a waste of my time even looking. Again, of course, she requests the link.
"Oh those are cool! Do they have my tartan?"
Right about here my head is spinning in confusion & I look at her asking "OK, the first one I showed you was knee-length and you said it was "too slutty" - these things barely meet our daughter's definition of a skirt (covers the panties,) but somehow they're fine?"
"Duh! They're in a tartan!" said with the same disdain and emphasis on my lack - of - clue that you'd use on someone arguing about water being wet. As if it's completely obvious that the pattern alone allows for a much greater overall fabric measurement.
So - I shook my head, smiled, and dreamed of a purchase... No, I don't always understand her - but it's great being able to smile in wonder. I am a blessed man.
#1 - I love my wife dearly. My wife and I relate on many levels. But I often do not understand my wife - and for this I am grateful. For centuries men have lamented not understanding women - if we did, wouldn't life be boring? I like that there is still mystery and wonder even after these years.
#2 - Our conversations, particularly once the wee minions have gone to bed, run across an incredible gamut of subjects, often with topics bouncing convoluted leaps from one to another as we read things on our separate computers, discuss the day, share thoughts and answer each other. There are times a flow chart would help bystanders. So, this is just one night in particular. Just sayin'.
#3 - I am only allowed limited input into what my wife wears, and don't often buy her clothing - per her choice, not mine. Apparently, my taste in clothes runs a bit more "sultry/revealing" than what she would choose... So, I'm allowed to buy t-shirts and the like - but blouses, skirts etc. are strictly off limits.
Trust me, those all have a point.
So anyway - the other night, somehow during our discussions and my web searches I got onto a site that had a "steampunk kilt skirt" which I thought looked neat. To which of course she wanted to look at the link:
"Ugh! Go figure - why is it when they label it "steampunk" that it has to be all slutty and everything? All cut short and tacky." Now, keep in mind that this particular skirt/kilt was knee length and to my eye at least nothing but proper. So, I shake my head and we have some brief banter back and forth on the topic and why I like the kilt & she doesn't.
While all this is going on my internet-wandering is continuing of course, and I end up on another kilt site. I then make a comment about some micro-skirt-kilts they have while trying to find her family tartan amongst them. I also laughingly make the comment about it being a waste of my time even looking. Again, of course, she requests the link.
"Oh those are cool! Do they have my tartan?"
Right about here my head is spinning in confusion & I look at her asking "OK, the first one I showed you was knee-length and you said it was "too slutty" - these things barely meet our daughter's definition of a skirt (covers the panties,) but somehow they're fine?"
"Duh! They're in a tartan!" said with the same disdain and emphasis on my lack - of - clue that you'd use on someone arguing about water being wet. As if it's completely obvious that the pattern alone allows for a much greater overall fabric measurement.
So - I shook my head, smiled, and dreamed of a purchase... No, I don't always understand her - but it's great being able to smile in wonder. I am a blessed man.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Desperate Help Needed
I rarely use this platform to beg for money, but this is a critical situation.
Not for me. For an incredible man. Taylor Morris, a twenty-three year old Navy EOD technician was critically wounded last month in Afghanistan. Rather than letting his team mates be injured he lay there, conscious and bleeding, until the area was clear. Go here and read the whole story.
Taylor lost all four of his limbs in this explosion. He is facing a life none of us could imagine - and doing it with a level of courage which goes beyond humbling.
The man dreams of a cabin in the woods to share with his girlfriend as they grow old.
By God, this man deserves the best gorram cabin ever built.
Taylor's family has set up a website about his life and injuries.
Skip lunch out today. Don't buy that magazine, or download that song. I don't care if you only give a dollar, but I'm asking - no, I'm begging - every one of my readers to give SOMETHING before this weekend is out.
Let us show Taylor and his family just how grateful we are that such men exist, and let us repay just a fraction of the debt we owe him.
EDIT: The paypal link originally posted has been changed. If you wish to donate to the Taylor Morris trust please visit the family website & they have numerous ways you can do so. Thanks to Mr. B for pointing this out.
Not for me. For an incredible man. Taylor Morris, a twenty-three year old Navy EOD technician was critically wounded last month in Afghanistan. Rather than letting his team mates be injured he lay there, conscious and bleeding, until the area was clear. Go here and read the whole story.
Taylor lost all four of his limbs in this explosion. He is facing a life none of us could imagine - and doing it with a level of courage which goes beyond humbling.
The man dreams of a cabin in the woods to share with his girlfriend as they grow old.
By God, this man deserves the best gorram cabin ever built.
Taylor's family has set up a website about his life and injuries.
Skip lunch out today. Don't buy that magazine, or download that song. I don't care if you only give a dollar, but I'm asking - no, I'm begging - every one of my readers to give SOMETHING before this weekend is out.
Let us show Taylor and his family just how grateful we are that such men exist, and let us repay just a fraction of the debt we owe him.
EDIT: The paypal link originally posted has been changed. If you wish to donate to the Taylor Morris trust please visit the family website & they have numerous ways you can do so. Thanks to Mr. B for pointing this out.
John 15:13 "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his brothers."
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