Pride

So, you may or may not know that I am an officer in the Canadian...er...ROYAL Canadian Navy (That just changed back to ROYAL this year). I started late in life in this voyage, as with most of my endeavors. It stands to reason that I am going to live to be about 135 at this rate.

I work during the year  at my LHQ (Local Headquarters) and with the provincial tri-service band. I guess I spend about 60-75 hours a month working with cadets. I get paid for 21-30 hours, and the rest I just do. During the summers, I spend 7 weeks working at a local cadet camp, teaching music.

Anyway, sometimes the military bull shit gets to me. For instance, I am not the OIC (Officer in Charge) of my division at summer camp. I am the 2IC (figure it out) simply because my rank is lower than my partner's rank. And the fact that I have a master's degree and 20 some-odd years of experience teaching doesn't matter.

And that is just one small, and in the end, insignificant thing. But one of many small, insignificant things. So sometimes I wonder....what the hell am I doing this for???

And then I come face-to-face with what really matters. It sounds cliche. You probably don't believe me. You may think I am just trying to be a martyr or trying to make myself look good. (no one reads this blog, so that doesn't hold much water...)

The cadets show up at camp.

They love being there. They learn a shit-load of 'stuff', from the music stuff to the inter-personal stuff to the intra-personal stuff, to the professional do-your-job stuff to the hang-on-you-can-do-it stuff.

And we, the officers, help do that. We change lives. Really. We make a difference. I know we do.

I know because we made a difference in the lives of all 4 of my children. And these are children with a ton of support at home, and with the financial resources they needed, and the family life that encourages personal growth and development. Imagine what we can do with different circumstances.

I know we change human beings. In a positive way. We build community, personal strength, professionalism, confidence, commitment, dedication, and discipline. And there is an emotion that gets me every time, whenever I really think about the good that we do.

Pride.

There is nothing like it.

That's what the hell I do it for.

And I thought 15 was an awkward age...

Well, I guess 15 really is an awkward age, but 50 beats it.

I just got home from clothes shopping. It's tough job, speaking as a 50 year-old-in-body-but-35-year-old-in-mind.

It was a good trip....I brought home a couple pairs of pants and a couple blazers....but unless you have experienced what it is like, I don't think you could understand.

I want to look good.

I DON'T want to look old.

I REALLY don't want to look like I'm trying to look young.

Frump is bad (really bad)

Hip can be even worse.

Trendy is not necessarily good either.

It should be a sport in the olympics.

One of the realities of 50.

If it bugged you a little when you were 35, it's going drive you f**king crazy when you're 50.

'Round-the-bend insane.

"Get me the hell out of here" nuts.

I  get that people have mid-life crisis's. What I don't understand is why people think it's MEN who have them.  If a man goes out and buys a sports car, or finds some young thing to help him feel like a stud again, he's just having a mid-life crisis.

But when a women yells at you to STFU because she doesn't want to hear your burping/farting/snoring/smacking, then she's a bitch going through menopause. Hmmm....

None of these things has happened to me. Well, the STFU may have been uttered, and I know that some of my students, in the past, may have called me a bitch. I don't really care. But, no cheating husband or sports car in the driveway. (2 vans and a Ford Focus station wagon....we are wild and crazy). But if I have to hear the snoring dog and burping husband in the middle of the night one more time, I am going to, well, go bat-shit crazy.

I work away for the summers. I spend 7 weeks at cadet camp, teaching music.

The best part? I have my own room for 7 weeks.

My own bathroom: seat always down, floor never suspiciously wet, towels have only been wiped by my hands...no worries about what is on them.

I get to pick what to watch on the TV.

I can read or study and no one talks to me. BUT, I can walk for 30 seconds to the mess and go visit and have a drink if I want to.

It's really like 7 weeks of heaven.

I read that in ancient times, the sensitivity, or rather over-sensitivity of menopausal women could save an entire village from all forms of dangers....
...sensitive ears hear the wild beast sneaking up to eat you.
...sensitive noses and taste buds detect spoiled food before you eat it and die of intestinal illness.
...sensitive feelings....well, are just sensitive feelings....

Here is 2012, the hypersensitivity seems to just serve to drives us f**king crazy.

Holy plateau, Batman!!

How can 162 be SO far away form 150-anything??

Math is my second-teachable....which means in university I took the required number of math courses to declare a minor. Applied math, statistics, algebraic equations; I even took calculus. So, I understand the concepts of addition and subtraction.

I understand that the five pounds between 168 and 163 are EXACTLY the same number of pounds as those between 163 and 158.

So....I just don't get it.

Again, Mother Nature....you are a bit of a bitch.....

I say this EVERY spring...

"I won't be quite so busy next spring".

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Of course, it's the nature of my work. Music teachers and musicians are busy in the spring. We all decide that April, May and June would be great months to work ourselves to death putting on performances with EVERY ensemble we are connected with. (I know, I know...."with which we are connected"....I was try not to be too pedantic....)

Added to the 'normal' stress of this time of the year (although the word 'normal' is not often used when referring to those of my ilk) are the following interesting events.....

• My partner cut his wrist with an axe. Yes, and axe. He was splitting wood and missed. Not sure how that happens, but I guess it does. We have spent countless hours together recently in ER's, OR's, and other assorted waiting rooms. Fun.
• I have a new job for the Fall. Which is good. Except the school that I teach at now is a little pissed at me for leaving, and the school I am going to in September is a little pissed at me for going there, so, all-in-all, there are lots of people pissed at me. I've always done well with that....not. I'm am using it as an opportunity to learn to function effectively while lots of people are pissed at me. I hope I don't have to practice for too long. 
• My partner (as mentioned above in the axe paragraph) was tying his shoe and felt one of the four severed but re-sewn tendons snap. He's REALLY happy now.
• Same partner has been on the waiting list for a new right knee, for two years. His time came up, and they won't do it...something to do with the huge gash on his wrist, infection, healing time....more cheer and bliss....
• Did I mention that I seem to be surrounded by pissed and/or deflated/defeated/depressed people?
• Every single day on my calendar between now and August 18th has 'stuff' one it. Oh yeah, I get three days off over the summer. Oh yeah...Jim will be getting his knee replaced....better use those vacation days for that.....

I'll be fine.....I'm just bitching. And considering no-one reads this blog, I could bitch about anyone and anything, and jsut get it all off my chest without fear of reprisal. Sweet deal. 

Something good....I lost 11 pounds. And it wasn't really too hard. I don't look quite as good as Jennifer yet..... :)

Mother Nature must be a bitch

I just don't get it.....

I have been sort of dieting. Not really hard core, just following Weight Watchers as closely as I can, and being aware of what is going down the ol' gullet. I have lost almost 10 pounds in the past 6 weeks, and I really don't feel as if I am sacrificing too much. (I did avoid dessert last night so that I could have booze instead...priorities, people)

Here's the rotter...I updated my measurements today.

Guess where I lost the MOST inches? You guesses it...tits

Guess where I lost the LEAST number of inches...yup...ass.

Now, you may not know me, so I will fill you in. My biggest part..... my ass. And I am not what you would consider busty. When I buy bras the only ones that fit are either ones with Hello Kitty on them, or are stuffed with artificial cleavage. I guess the assumption is, if you buy my size you are either 12, or you want bigger boobs.

So, doing the math, I lost 5% of my chest measurement at 1% of my hip measurement.

Mother Nature, what the hell is wrong with you?

Just one voice

It's funny, isn't it, how just one little voice, coming from out of the shapeless, ubiquitous internet can put a person at ease.

Life is not so shitty after all. I know I have at least one of the 'other guys' on my side.

I'm still going to drink wine tonight, though.