AngloAm’s Weblog

Well, just a quick note. Today was our Organization Day (a.k.a. Office Picnic). We worked until 11:00 or so, and then went over to Burba Lake on Fort Meade. There was volleyball and a tug-of-war and food and a dunk tank into which our leadership, from the Commanding General on down, were placed. I enjoyed myself quite a bit; it wasn’t too warm or uncomfortable, and everyone was really nice.

I took some pictures with my trusty little camera; since they were for me I indulged myself and only took a few of my coworkers and the rest of two guys I find rather attractive. First, there’s Chad H., of whom I’ve spoken before; he looks so jock-ish out of uniform (although is very smooth legs are strange – I guess it’s because he swims, our little Iron Man). Second is Patrick S.; he’s a sergeant, the Chaplain’s assistant, who is (a) sexy (b) good looking (there’s a big difference – sexy is how you act) and (c) gracious. He found God after being a tough guard and ‘counsellor’ at a juvenile detention center. He’s wise and kind and funny and compassionate. And would you believe it he’s got a kid who’s entered in the Army. Tomorrow I may post a scanned picture of him in a kilt. Click on the gallery below to enlarge the shots and you can also see the full set in Flickr.

I hope you like them! The main thing I thought, after taking the pictures, was that there is a huge gulf between me, slow, plodding, prone to sweating sitting still, in some degree of pain with every step, and these active agile graceful happy playing specimens. The bridging of which I would love to achieve, but sometimes/most of the time despair of. I am glad to be their friend though.

Like yesterday at the gym, my feet started to feel so heavy so early. Imagine going from that, from plantar fasciitis and arthrits into a volleyball playing stud. Hah. Fat chance. My kinda odds.

I spent most of today thinking it was Thursday. How about you – are you ready for the holiday? I hate hearing it called “the Fourth of July” – that’s just the date. It is Independence Day. (Just like today, 1 July, is Northern Territory Day, commemorating the day the Northern Territory, from which my beloved comes, was granted self-government instead of being governed directly by Canberra.)

We’ll be back to eye candy tomorrow. It’s funny how “hot guys” don’t give me this reaction except when they’re live in front of me. I think it’s more a wish that their marvellous would bend down from their great heights and touch me. Yet that’s a fantasy, and what I have with my husband is better than any fantasy I ever had about my life. He makes everything better; I came home a bit gloomy but he cleared that up in about five seconds, one hug and one kiss. I’m all better, thanks to him!

Rest in Peace, Billy Mays

Got home and watched a bit of a marathon of Pitchmen on Discovery. I’d never really sat and watched it before, but it was being run in memory of Billy Mays. He really seems to have been humble, funny, creative and generous and I thought – wow, with all the fuss about MJ poor Billy, who we saw more of in the last few years, is nearly forgotten. And to me, and sorry if I offend you, MJ was at the end of his career – I couldn’t see him surviving the fifty concerts he’d planned, to me, Billy Mays had still years to go doing what he did. And really, there’s nothing dishonourable about being a salesman, despite how so many people sneer at the vocation (see the movie “Barcelona” for more polished reflections on this idea). And OxiClean really does work. In the immortal words of Theresa Giudice, it helps you be more cleansy, with your cleansiness.