The Beav according to Beav

Still crazy after all these years.

Friday, February 05, 2010

More stuff of newness

So, it's been an interesting couple of weeks. We here in Southern Virginia got snow of the type that only hits here once every few years. And we're likely to get more tonight/tomorrow. That's almost unheard of here.

There was some concern about my Master Sergeant stripe. After breaking my foot, I had a PT test. The waiver I got from the doctor (because of my foot and for the recovery) said I couldn't do any PT, but that means I get tested on my waist measurement alone - a guarantee of failure. After the failure, I am informed that 1) I can't sew on my stripe with a failed PT test, 2) my upcoming EPR will be a 4 (of 5) at best with a failed PT test, and 3) I can write a note saying that I want to ignore parts of my waiver if I don't do myself bodily harm.

So, I write my little memo, work hard to ensure that my push-ups and sit-ups are up and good. My promotion is supposed to be at 9 AM on Monday, Feb 1st. The very first day I am allowed to test is Friday, Jan 29th. My EPR is due Monday, Feb 15th. With a lot riding on it, I test on Friday morning and crush it. Not only did I easily max out my push-ups and sit-ups, but with the PT I was doing (screw the waiver), I lost an entire inch on my waist. So, I'm good to promote on time. (Whew!)

The very next day commences the freak snowfall I mentioned all the way back in paragraph 1. Though you may scoff in Denver, this snowfall shuts down everything for the entire weekend. Ryan's school didn't open until Thursday. So, Sunday night, I get a call from my boss saying to show up at 10 on Monday and in ABUs (cammies) instead of Blues (service uniform). Now, the week prior, knowing that Monday is blues day, I realized that I wouldn't need stripes on my ABUs until Tuesday, so I picked up my new blues on Friday and wasn't scheduled to pick up the ABUs until Monday evening. This new iteration from the snow is a double whammy for me. Not only does it mean that I'm showing for work an hour after my ceremony, but in a uniform without proper stripes!

We decide to play it by ear on the time (which then turned out to be "delay until tomorrow"), and I'd stop by alterations and beg them to do them a few hours early..."like right now?"

Everything worked all right, and I spent a lot of time at home with the kids (due to the aforementioned school closure), but it was a really wierd week.

Oh, and Tristan made me sad and proud the other night. I was cooking some chicken stroganov for dinner, and he wanted to help. I let him stand on a chair nearby and was gonna have him do some pouring and whatnot when the time came. Unfortunately, shortly after I moved the wok with oil on the bottom (for searing the chicken pieces), he decided to check the oil temp...with his finger. Too fast for me to react, he burned his finger nicely. We got it under running water, got a cup of ice water for him to rest it in, and Saundra tried to get him settled on the couch. He got very upset and insisted that he still wanted to help me cook. I had to fight off the proud-papa "he's gonna be a chef" syndrome, but continued to be proud of my brave boy.

I think that's it for this installment of Musty Piece Theater. Tune in next time for more...uh...frenzied recitation of a bizarrely normal life? (And don't forget to Save the Babies!)

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2 Comments:

  • At 3:08 PM, Blogger K said…

    I love to hear about how life is going for you. These posts are like little hugs, small windows into the Ward I love. Keep 'em coming.

    And of COURSE you crushed the PT. You are a man of internal fortitude. No shock from this end, brother. But "Bravo" nonetheless.

    Miss you. Give all appropriate hugs and kisses all around. Don't forget yourself.

     
  • At 9:59 PM, Blogger Soo Mi said…

    *sigh* if only I was there, I could have helped with the sewings and the what-nots.

    Here's some interesting PT data for you: I bought Eric an exercise bike, and he decided to ride it every day, no matter what, until he'd spun out at least 200 calories. Six weeks later, he was 5 inches thinner on his waist, and he wasn't even really dieting (we just can't seem to stick to one).

    He passes his PT test with no problem at all (34-inch waist FTW!) and promptly neglects the bike. Two months later and the blues pants don't fit again.

    Good on ya, tho, for working hard and winning.

    Kisses to my boys, who I miss terribly on a quiet Sunday, and hugs to you and Saundra.

     

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