Question?

How wrong is it that I've gotten lost more than once on the way back from Land Navigation Training?

My Hero

It appears that the condition of pregnancy leaves one with some interesting side effects, on top of the whole baby thing. She's almost like some sort of unfortunate member of the X-Men. Some of the brand new mutant powers of The Wife include the following:

The Wife has the ability to psychically project the feeling of guilt into the minds of others in order to get them to do things she wants. Or just because she wants them to feel bad about something, anything. (I've seen this power used againt only one individual, however.)

The Wife can squeeze no less than three naps into a single afternoon. (I'll grant you that I did possess this ability on weekends during college, but that was for a different reason.)

The Wife now has an inhuman olfactory sense, like, say, the ability to smell colors.

But of course, like any well-written superhero, her powers come with associated weaknesses.

The Wife is rendered completely powerless at the sight of anything infant-sized. She can be reduced to an incoherent, sqeaky pile of goo by nothing more than a tiny diaper.

And on any given day, The Wife can eat only one type of food, that type being edible on that day only, and she must go through the process of finding that foodstuff with each new day.

Poor Wife

This whole gestation thing is really wearing the poor girl out. She naps more than the cats and only can sober up to a slightly beyond zombie-like state to eat half a corn chip (Or half a cheesecake. It varies.), cry, give the cats undeserved positive attention, and curse me for what I've done to her. I wonder if God has some sort of bizarre master-plan sense of humor and is laughing at my longing for the almost-logical universe in which I thought I existed.

I'm starting to think of all the little things I'm going to miss from now on. Like sleep, sex, and making asenine comments like these without having to worry about the corruption of an innocent mind. Oh, and fantasy baseball, too...Kyle Farnsworth, I hardley knew ye...

Good News, Bad News

Good News: I got my first buck in probably five years the other day.

Bad News: Instead of my customary 1968 Winchester 30-30 lever action (muzzle velocity 750 feet/sec), I had to bag him with my 2003 Kia Spectra (unlit-army-tank-trail-through-the-woods velocity roughly 60mph).

Knowing what even a moderately sized Minnesota whitetail will do to a sedan, my first thought as he jumped out of the bushes was "ohshit," but the poor little guy had more hangtime than Todd Sauerbrun, such that I had time to think up that little quip, realize that his trajectory meant he was probably too small to do much damage, cringe as he went through the reflectors posted over the guardrail, and change the station away from Gwen Stefani's latest 'musical' debacle, all before he hit the ground.

In fact, in the dark with my little land navigation photon light, I couldn't even see that he had cracked my grill and bent my hood just a little. I'll be honest though, I was more concerned about the twitching going on off the side of the road and how I was going to dispatch him with only my trusty Gerber. As it turned out, all the kicking was apparently post-mortem, as far as I could tell. (Dented skull, no reaction to being handled, no eye reflexes.) That was a good thing. The attempt would not have been pretty, and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep.

I believe this is the first vertebrate I've run over that has been large enough for me to know for certian I had hit it.

I did entertain the though of going back up there to take a trophy style photo with him, but seeing as how I don't advocate running down small animals, how this one definitely qualified as small (I've seen larger rabbits. Ok, maybe not. But there are some killer hares around here.), and how my designated photographer is currently having some issues with nausea, there is probably no picture coming.


P.S. You know you're in the Army when the MPs (and the Polizei) have to file a formal report about everything and you choose to tell them where the accident took place by giving them an 8-digit grid coordinate. "Roger. Deer down, vicinity grid November Alpha 8660 5275." Dork.

Cravings

Cumulative list of things I have been ORDERED to go out and get by the wife. Individual trips to the commissary for these items specifically:

• Sara Lee New York - Style Cheese Cake. (Little did I know, this four-inch diameter confection would cost me $8.)
• SpaghettiOs. (I learned after the first SpaghettiO trip that fancy "Meatball" or "Franks" bastardizations of the original SpaghettiO concept are strictly forbidden.)
• Zantac 75

Il Annuncio

Last week the Wife and I departed on a trip to Vicenza, Italy. She requested that I be sure to include my choice of shortcut through the Dolomites between Trent and Vicenza.

I don’t think it was such a bad route. We only lost maybe an hour or so. I thought the scenery was certainly worth it. The Wife even admitted how pretty it was, which is saying a lot considering she had her forehead plastered to the dashboard trying not to vomit as we wound our way up and down the mountain.

In fact, that’s really how she spent most of the trip: trying not to puke shopping in Thiene, trying to keep down the calzone from the local pizzeria, attempting to avoid hurling on spirited Italian youths during our walks through the piazza.

Lest you start making mental notes about international water quality or searching for travel advisories, it probably wasn’t the water, or the winding mountain roads (or winding, narrow, city roads, for that matter, that got me semi or completely lost every time we went anywhere), or the motor scooters, or even that unique but potentially nauseating Italian sense of style.

Yes, despite the questionable reputability of TRICARE medical testing, it now seems most certain that the Wife is now bearing the Kid (ETA 27FEB06). We’re quite excited about the news, though it made for a less than glamorous vacation. The Wife is not as ill as I’ve made her sound, but we weren’t about to push our luck on the matter. What it amounted to was a five-day trip for a pizza and a movie (and fireworks), but they were both good. More on that later. I like my vacation time generally uneventful anyway.

In theory, making the announcement in this way will mean that those who love us most will be the first to know. Though it may also end up being those really bored at work or without current employment (coughjoelcough).

The way things are currently going, the Kid is composed mostly of Cheetoes, Burger King, Sour Patch Watermelons, and [removed at Wife's request]. (I know they say to eat what you can stand, but this is rediculous.) I'm also predicting a good 20 lbs of baby weight. On me. Because the Wife insists on eating mostly the items listed above, but can manage only about four ounces of it at a time, leaving a near continuous supply of artery-clogging snacks and leftovers.

Finally, Knut seems generally confused by it all and Razz doesn't give a shit. But that's really nothing new anyway. More to come on all this, believe you me.

Not an Easy Task

Every time I pull up Blogger, the Wife gets nervous that I'm going to make her "look like an idiot." Really, that's not my intent with this. I only have so much source material, though, and I simply feel like sharing the things that have us rolling with laughter. She asked if I could possibly make her look smart, which she most certainly is. It's just that her mouth does sometimes operate without guidance from higher, so to speak. There are many things that she understands far better than I, Church history apparently being one of them.

We were driving through northern Italy last week, passing the city of Trent. Always trying to impress with my knowledge of trivia, I pointed out: "Look. Trent. They had a council there." That really was the extent of my knowledge on the Council of Trent, and I expected no response in particular.

From the passenger side of the car came a rather dry and matter-of-fact: "Didn't accomplish much."

Humbled, I pretended to be really focused on the Autostrada, not wanting to betray my ignorance on the matter.

Love you, hon.