just wait till your Dad gets home!!!

I have definitely missed Reed these past few months but I think the person who has been affected the most by his absence is Fin. I realize that there are just some manly things that I just can’t relate with. I can appreciate the importance of a father figure in a young boy’s life. As you can see, Fin has been slipping into several bad habits. First, he prefers to chug Martinellie’s sparkling cider instead of his milk. After a long night Fin likes to start his morning right, he chases away the morning blahhs with hot chocolate. He is starting to listen to questionable music and seems to really like KISS. Lastly, he seems to be developing an interest in pole dancing! I’m just so grateful that Reed will be back in a few weeks to help me get him back on the right track!!!




 

Fin's surgery

 

As many of you know, Fin had a minor surgery on his eye this Tuesday. Fin has been having problems with a blocked tear duct in his right eye. The tear duct had a little layer of skin blocking his tears from draining and blocking gooey infection in. Fin’s eye was getting to be so gooped up that he wouldn’t be able to open it on some mornings (like in this picture). Usually the problem will correct itself with in first year, but if it doesn’t surgery is the most effective option.
The procedure Fin had is called a balloon dacryocystoplasty, it is a type of surgery used to open the blocked tear duct without making an incision in the nose or face. During surgery, a thin guide wire is inserted through the hole in the corner of the eye where the tears drain. The wire has a tiny, deflated balloon attached, which is threaded through to the blocked area. The balloon is gently inflated and the pressure from the balloon opens up and expands the blocked duct. The balloon is then deflated and removed along with the wire. The entire process, from when I left his side to when I met him in the recovery room, took less than 15 min.
I was very worried about having Fin put to sleep and having a crazy reaction to the anesthetic. Verne and Brett gave Fin a blessing the night before the procedure and that made me feel more comfortable about the whole ordeal. Reed called me from the ship at 5:15am (we had to be at the hospital by 6am) to reassure me that this was the right decision.
Fin was a real trooper. Before the surgery he had fun riding around the waiting room in a little plastic car. He didn’t cry or complain when I handed him off to the Anesthesiologist and his team, but when the nurse came to lead me to the recovery room I could hear him crying from down the hall. I was glad to hear him crying from a distance because I could tell that he was awake and ok.
The rest of that day Fin was drowsy and sick from the anesthetic. But those effects wore off by Tuesday evening. His eye has been completely clear ever since, so it seems like the surgery was a success!!! I’m very proud of my tough little boy.

Stephen and Jenna's wedding cake

As most of you know I’ve been taking cake decorating classes this summer. I am currently enrolled in course 2 out of 5. My teacher was amused on the first day of class when I asked her for a couple of pointers for stacking wedding cakes. When I told her that I would be making a wedding cake the next week, her amusement faded and was replaced with shock!! I’ll have to bring a picture of the cake to class this week to prove that I wasn’t biting of more than I could chew.
Pictured here is the final project!!! I had so much fun designing and creating (and eating) this cake!!!


 
 
 

stachin'

So I've got a moustache - a real moustache. A lot like the one you
would see on an old Magnum PI poster- minus the beach volley ball,
yellow corduroy shorts and Ocean Pacific polo shirt. Indeed, I am
stachin'. I'm extremely stachin'. It's big too - much more 'stache'
than 'mous'. I am not sure why I grew it, but I am glad I did. I tell
myself that I am just trying to fit in out here it the Middle East - a
land where "if you aint stachin' you aint @#$%". The real reason is
that I am simply responding to curiosity, to the situation (maintaining
military bearing while at sea), and to peer pressure and good humor. It
has been growing now for three months and has approached a form of
maturity. It functions nicely as a sort of internal control measure
that keeps me from taking myself too seriously as it is really hard to
look at myself in the mirror and keep a straight face. I thought it would look better as it got fuller, but it still looks funny. I guess
that is just the nature of a moustache though - funny looking. You
can't have a thick tuft of wirey hair spewing out of your nose and
colonizing the thin strip of real estate above your lip and make any
claims to looking natural or good. But now that the stache is full, it
has left the awkwardness of a new moustache and taken on the awkwardness of an old moustache.


I look at this moustache thing as a rite of passage. There is something
uniquely cool about growing a third eyebrow slightly bushier and thicker and crazier than the other two offset above my upper lip that makes me feel closer to being a grown-up, a dad, a husband, a high school wrestling coach, a Kevin Cardwell, a cop....a MAN in essence. I like to think about when Dad used to have a moustache. It is funny to me to think of that. I didn't think much of it at the time, and I thought he looked good with his stache, but I'm not so sure by him growing one the joke wasn't really on all of us, those who had to look at it. That is kind of how our parent's 1970's humor works - it's subtle but the entire country was in on it because the staches were "in vogue" at the time of their maturing senses of humor. I have to believe that they were making fun of moustaches in much the same way I am now. The only difference is that my generation is close minded and small minded enough to believe that we started the great moustache joke - but I doubt that is the case. That is why the moustache will never die - every generation will insist on making fun of them by growing them (because they can) and thinking they are really clever by so doing. And then their kids watch them doing it, not knowing it is a joke, and they grow up to mimic the joke thinking they are being really funny by poking fun at and mocking their father's staches. It is an unvirtuous cycle that has no end in sight.


Anyway, I am now in a bind. This thing has taken on a life of its own
and has become a force to be reckoned with. If truth be known, I admit
that I don't really like the moustache. Its not just that it doesn't
look super good, but more importantly, it is not comfortable. It is
like having an SOS pad on my lip all the time. Stuff gets stuck in it
and it pokes my tounge and I can't stop playing with it, and when I run
I perspire under it! That is gross. I can't wipe the sweat off of my
upper lip - a common place for beads of perspirations to form. The sweat just drips down my lip. Very annoying. I also get called "Chief" more, even though I am an officer. But the dilemma remains in that I have sacrificed too much comfort and invested too much energy and lack of comfort into this thing to shave it off. If I shave it now, I will
never know what it could have turned into! I see people running around
with moustaches who have had them for over 60 years! I see other people
who are well on their way to that same path - people who you can't
imagine without their moustache and who have developed an organic
relationship with their staches. They love them and if they were to
shave them and you were to see them in their hairless-lip state, you
would think of them in much the same way you think of a hairless
dog....repulsive and weak and funny looking. So I simply have got to see where this thing leads. I figure now is the time - nobody around to
boycott my kisses and tell me to shave. I am thinking that I owe it to
myself to let the moustache develop at least until the upper hairs go
all the way down and cover all the under hairs like a protective
umbrella. I am close.


Until then, please excuse my pictures. I will continue to enjoy the good and the bad and experiment with this crazy tradition of civilized
cultures known as the 'moustache'. I do find that there are virtues -
one being an instant brotherhood with other moustache men. It is sort
of like being bald, or driving a Harley. You automatically are friends
with all other bald men and all other Harley drivers just because you
share a common bond. I can walk down the passage ways and exchange nods
and unspoken tokens of brotherhood and binding friendship with all the
other jokesters who are nurturing caterpillars on their lips too!


So long live the moustache. If I shave this off before any of you get
to/have to see me with it, don't worry because it will most likely come
back at some time - I have to let Fin and his future brothers see it so
I can plant some seeds and hopefully do my part in giving them a memorable target to mock twenty years from now when they can grow their
own.

where in the world is Reed?

I found this article about Reed's ship today. It's interesting to read about where he's at and what is going on around him.

USS Abraham Lincoln in Arabian Sea to support Afghan operations
By Jeff Schogol, Stars and Stripes
Mideast edition, Wednesday, July 9, 2008



ARLINGTON, Va. — The aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln has moved from the Persian Gulf to the Arabian Sea to support operations in Afghanistan.

NBC News first reported Monday night that the carrier has been moved because of the deteriorating situation in Afghanistan, where a suicide bomber killed more than 40 people Monday outside the Indian Embassy in Kabul.

A spokesman for 5th Fleet confirmed the move Tuesday.

"Conditions are worsening on the ground in Afghanistan and commanders have requested additional air support," said Lt. Nathan Christensen.

The deployment is not meant to send a message to Iran, Christensen said.

"It’s absolutely not in response to Iran whatsoever," he said.

For security reasons, Christensen could not say how long the Lincoln would provide air support for Afghanistan, or when it is expected to leave the 5th Fleet area of operations.

"They are there for the foreseeable future," said Lt. Cmdr. Bill Speaks, a spokesman for U.S. Central Command.

Speaks would not say if the move was prompted by the worsening situation in Afghanistan.

"This is simply a move to ensure strategic flexibility and responsiveness through the posturing of our forces," he said.

He also could not say if the Lincoln’s trip to the Arabian Sea had been planned or was an adjustment due to conditions on the ground.

"These kinds of things are constantly under review and assessment," he said. "I honestly don’t how long ago that decision was made or thought of."

A Navy official could not give a specific date on when the Lincoln would be replaced by the USS Ronald Reagan.

The Reagan is currently in the western Pacific filling in for the USS Kitty Hawk, which is taking part in the Rim of the Pacific exercises in place of the USS George Washington, which is being repaired following a fire in May, the official said.

If needed, the Navy can send carriers to the 5th Fleet area of operations ahead of schedule, such as the USS Theodore Roosevelt, which is slated to deploy in late summer or early fall, the official said.

Singapore

Well, Singapore is an absolutely wonderful place! I am sure my memories of it are exaggeratedly sweet because Michelle was able to be there with me, but even when not considering that fact, it is still a very impressive country. The country of Singapore is made up of a series of islands (more than 60) that lie at the southern tip of the continent Asia, but most of the islands are small and relatively uninhabited. Basically the entire country consists of one city, Singapore City. The culture is split historically and population-wise pretty evenly between a number of countries, including Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, India, and a myriad of Arab countries. In addition Singapore is a post-modern city with a strong international corporate presence so there is a big community of expatriates from all over the European and Western worlds. Australia is very close so the Ausies and Kiwis probably have a bit of an edge in that community. Because of the great cultural diversity, the national language is English which makes it really nice for getting around comfortably. You can imagine how these factors can lead to perhaps the best culinary scene known to mankind! The Asian diversity coupled with the ease of speaking English make going out to eat in Singapore a totally awesome experience. Last week alone I ate the best Chinese, Indian, Turkish, and Malay dishes I have ever eaten in my life, and might reasonably expect to ever eat again! No kidding.

Singapore has about 5 million people in it, and from what I can tell the city is physically about the size of Chicago. Because the country/island/city is so small they can control many factors there that are impossible to regulate in America and most other countries in the world. For example if you are caught trafficking drugs in Singapore you receive an instant death penalty – on the spot of conviction. There are no drugs in the country. There is a $1000 fine for jay walking, a $1000 fine for littering, and you get cained for theft or vandalism. It is even illegal to chew gum in public because of vandalism and litter control! You can not find even a cigarette but in the street or gutters! It is the cleanest, prettiest, safest place I have ever been, and they take great pride in that. A small girl of Aylee’s age can navigate the city and catch a cab all by herself. I saw it more than once. The youth there look wholesome and not scary. Even the subways are immaculate and pleasant. It feels like you are on an expensive train instead of a subway. They have flat screen TV monitors updating you on the train’s movement and there are electronic advertisements illuminated on the walls of the tunnel that show throw the windows. It is really impressive.

The entire city can be navigated underground, through skywalks, and shopping malls. You can walk for miles through the city and never go outside. The city was designed like that because it is can be so uncomfortable to be outside either because it is so hot and humid or because it is raining so hard. So people pretty much transit the city indoors during the day, and come out to the streets at night. At night Singapore is so beautiful because they all the buildings are lit up in different colors, and then many of them change colors every 10 or 15 seconds! If you are not paying attention you don’t really realize they are changing because the fade is pretty subtle.

Singapore lies one degree north of the equator and so it is in a tropical zone. The climate and cleanliness make the city like one big botanical garden interspersed by skyscrapers of post-modern architecture and ethnic neighborhoods with exotic temples of ancient worship. The immediate and almost side by side contrast between old and new, ancient and modern, big and small, famous and obscure, beautiful and plan, and expensive and cheap is fascinating and makes almost every block interesting to walk down.

Michelle beat me to Singapore by a few hours on Wednesday morning. By the time we were able to find each other it was about noon. Wednesday evening we hired out a taxi to take us around the city for a few hours and show us the hot spots and roughly orient us to this new place. I don’t know if it was a productive two hours or not because it was all so new and big and foreign, plus we were more interested in looking at each other that it all seemed pointless. From our hotel we walked down to the Arab Quarter and found some Turkish food for dinner. The Arab Quarter is an area of town packed with Arab textile merchants and strong, flavorful food that seems like you can almost get full just by smelling it. By dinner’s end it was only 9:00 for me, but for Michelle it was somewhere close to 6:00 am and she was starting to feel the effects of traveling half way around the world so we just went back to the hotel.

Thursday was spent climbing through the streets of Chinatown walking through temples and narrow streets of vendors selling mostly Chinatown stuff. Apparently Chinatown vendors are Chinatown vendors in New York, Philly, DC, Chicago…and even Singapore. The sights, sounds, people, and things to by are all the same – even the subway stop name seems to be the same in every Chinatown you visit. That is sort of a let down if you are there for an exotic shopping experience, but at the same time it gives somewhat of a stamp of authenticity on what goes on there – maybe that really is what China is like! This particular Chinatown was much bigger than any other one I had been to and consequently had much more than just the cheap stuff to by and streets of restaurants. Singapore’s Chinatown was full of 19^th century architecture, ancient Buddhist Temples, mosques, and historical Singapore landmarks on almost every street. We found a great place to eat lunch at a place that serves a typical style of Chinese food referred to as “steamboat” cooking. It is very similar to a Chinese version of Michelle’s Thai hotpot. Basically the dish is served in a big octagonal pan about 6 inches deep set down in hole in the table of the same shape so that the top of the pan is flush with the table. The bottom of the hole is lined with a burner that can be controlled on the side of the table. The large pan is divided into halves, in which they pour two soup stocks, one spicy and one mild. Then they bring you a plate of raw food that you order which could a variety of meets and vegetables and noodles. I think we ordered fish, chicken, beef, and even duck gizzard. Then as the stock begins to boil, you place the food in the stock and cook as desired. It is a fun dish to both cook and eat. After lunch and after taking a self-guided walking tour through the 2 or 3 miles of streets, we headed up to the Colonial Loop.

The afternoon was spent looking at the buildings that make up the historical nucleus of Singapore, including many government buildings and old hotels. They are all still functional today. We ended our day by taking a tour of the city up the river in a bum boat and then taking an evening walk down through the Quay’s (Keys) along the River Walk. It is a very romantic and fun part of town to walk through in the evening as it tends to be cooler there with a gauntlet of restaurant vendors that you have to pass by. There is no shopping for a few miles, just pure restaurants.

Friday we got up and went to Sentosa, a small island off the southern tip of the country. We arrived there by a gondola-like cable car with a glass bottom and mostly just walked around the beaches hopping from one 7-11 to the next to buy a Slurpy trying to stay cool! That night we went out for seafood where I had the best pepper crab I have ever eaten, and have reason to believe will ever eat again!

Saturday was went to check out Little India. I half expected to see a Dunkin Donuts, 7-11, or cheap hotel on every corner but it was actually pretty cool! Again, a lot of great food, great smells, great sounds and cheap shopping. I tell you what, shopping in Little India is like shopping at a lawless Walmart except about 10 times as much stuff was crammed into a market space about 10 times smaller than a typical Walmart store! It was total and utter chaos! We found a grocery market where we watched a teller club a fish bigger that my leg to death on the floor as it flopped around the isle. I’m glad we had our seafood experience last night!

A fateful coin toss took us back to Chinatown for our last meal together in Singapore that night. We got in a taxi and told the driver to take us somewhere he would go for the best Chinese food in town (not fancy) if he were not working tonight. He knew exactly where to take us! Again, it was the best Chinese food I have eaten up to this point in my life!

It sure was hard to leave Michelle again, not knowing how long it would be before we were able to be together again. I headed back to the ship a little after midnight to be on board before liberty expired. Michelle still had another day by herself in Singapore before her 20 hour route back home! It’s kind of funny because she left at 8:00 in the morning on Monday and after spending all day traveling, got to Portland at 9:00 in the morning on Monday! Pretty cool trick.

Wog day

Well, it happened - today I lost my slimy woggyness and became a trusty and crusty shellback as we crossed the Equator and participated in a time-honored Navy tradition known as Wog Day. It was a tradition that was very interesting to observe and even more entertaining to take part in! The tradition has no known beginning to my knowledge but needless to say it has been happening on Navy ships around the world as long as anyone can remember. Just like anything else of this nature, the crustier of the shellbacks all cry and complain that the ritual isn’t what it used to be and that we younger shellbacks all had it way too easy as compared to their experiences, but I imagine that will forever be the trend. The Navy is full of traditions, some of them silly, most of the irrelevant, all seemingly critical to the moral of the old-timers. I find them funny and highly entertaining. I like them.

It might be helpful if I explain a little about the history of Wog Day and the events leading up to it. I might not be totally straight on my facts and history, but the executive summary is somewhat as follows. As the ship crosses the equator a tribute must be paid to Davey Jones, Poseidon, and King Neptunus Rex – both masters of the sea. Poseidon, as most of us know, is the mythological Greek God of the Sea. Davy Jones is a more mysterious maritime figure who’s true identity is a bit more obscure and argued, but many believe him to be the Devil, himself. I don’t’ know who King Neptune is. From what I can gather he is just a made up figure who sits at the head of a Royal Court supplied by the truest and crustiest of the ship’s shellbacks. Weeks before the ship is to cross the Equator, the Royal Court is formed. The court will have a Royal Dentist (the oldest shellback dentist), a Royal Medic (oldest shellback physician), a Royal Cook, and a number of other honorary positions making up the Royal Court. There is one – the oldest and crustiest shellback on the entire ship plays King Neptune. The smallest shellback on the ship plays Davy Jones, which is either an unlikely tribute to Davy Jones from the Monkeys or more likely a symbolic chance for the littlest guy to get back at all the bigger people who pick on him and make his life “a living hell”. In the weeks that lead up to the action of crossing the line, the shellbacks in each department start speaking of their weakness, unworthiness, sliminess and stench. They speak in old English and maritime jargon and start tasking the pollywogs collectively with activities such as solving riddles, writing limericks, providing riddles, historical essays, songs and skits. The wogs have to write an ancient scroll admitting to their sliminess and requesting admission to their court. The weeks before are an important part of the tradition that build anticipation and make it fun for the shellbacks. The night before the initiation we all got together to have the wog talent show where we showcase our skits and songs. Most of the skits were pretty stupid, but most people in the Navy are pretty stupid, so it wasn’t a huge let down.

So the day of the event started at 4:00 AM, but of course we had been prepared for that and so we were up at 3:45 waiting for the announcement/wake up call. Truth be known ever since OIS, I really don't sleep well knowing I am going to have an obligatory awakening, so I was just lying in my rack at 3:00 wide awake and ready for the call. Waking up that early to be punished isn't too bad knowing that the punishers must wake even earlier to inflict their tortures upon you, and that is almost more of a punishment in itself. That thought forces a bit of an internal smile amongst the tribulation.

The uniform of the day was a khaki shirt donned inside out and backwards under the departmental wog T-shirt. The wog t-shirt was a shirt we all made as sort of a Wog Day uniform. The shirt was also to be worn inside out and backwards, with a stenciled picture of a pollywog wearing a red cross shirt with MALPRACTICE written above him in big black letters on the worn back of the shirt (actually on the front) and a pollywog wearing a sailor suit stenciled on the worn front of the ship with our wog name in big black letters below. (I was assigned the name STIMPY WOG in conjunction with Eric's RIN WOG as a name. If pressed I could have pulled off GIZZARD WOG, but it would have fallen on deaf ears/eyes and a sacred Indian name would have been cast before the swine. Stimpy Wog suited me just fin.) Pants were also the khaki uniform pant, again worn inside out and backward. Underwear, shorts and optional kneepads were to be worn under the pants, as well as socks and shoes - not work boots. I thankfully came prepared with all the extras supplied by my helpful wife while in Singapore. They were well worth whatever effort she went through in providing them for me as they sure made the experience much more comfortable than it would have been! The end idea was not to wear anything during the initiation ceremony that you wouldn’t mind throwing away as it is part of the tradition to throw your cloths over the starboard stern when done.

Morning muster was in the Medical Ward at 4:00 where I was met by my fellow wogs lining up in the hall as shellbacks roamed the passage ways wearing pirate garb and laughing at us. They eventually called us to attention and made us entertain them with singing dumb songs at the tops of our lungs (I’m a Little Teapot, Sponge Bob Square Pants, Nursery Rimes, YMCA, anything they want) and doing little dances and actions for their pleasure. We had to walk around the ship like ducks, quacking and flapping our arms, mostly stuff you typically do to a cub scout den to make them burn off energy. Any given shellback would stand in front of you and bark a request and we would have to oblige, no matter now embarrassing. The only rule was that they couldn’t demean us personally – just as a group in good fun. We laid down and did the log roll over each other, danced like ballerinas, and did all kinds of things. They made one group of weapons thugs stand by the water fountain in the hanger bay and sing at the top of their lungs “I love you, you love me, we are happy as can be with a smile and a hug and a kiss from me to you, won’t you say you love me too!” to each person in line for a drink. I think they were there for over an hour! So anyway, after we were done in the ward, we got the call to move the party to the hanger bay where the embarrassment continued. We lined up for breakfast which was green eggs and green bacon slopped onto your plate and forced to be eaten with your fingers in less than a minute. After more the of same for awhile in the hanger bay, we were lined up on the elevator and taken up to the flight deck where they met us with fire-hoses spraying saltwater on us. After more of the same up on the flight deck, soon enough we were sent in small groups to run through the gauntlet, which is an obstacle course consisting of disgusting entities. The first obstacle was bobbing for potatoes and tomatoes in a bin of saltwater. After you produced one, you were sent to crawl through a trough of rotten food while being sprayed with water. After that we were sent swimming through a pool of bright green watery slime, again while being sprayed with water. The pool was up to your chest or so. Then we were made to role down a slip-n-slide with a fresh layer of flower on it making you look like a giant white pastry. The gauntlet ended with the future shellbacks prostrate in mass face down on the tarmac before a platform holding the high-ups of the royal court in uniform as we groveled to Davy Jones and King Neptune for our cleansing to be considered thorough. One was then chosen to spin a wheel to determine our fate, which could include anything from immediate acceptance to any silly task, to running the gauntlet again. Eventually we were accepted and considered clean and trusty and welcomed to the league of the shellbacks.

The events usually are meant to last all day, and probably do on a small ship with a typical crew of a few hundred sailors. However on a carrier with a total crew of 5,00 and an unwashed crew of half that size, it worked to our favor as all were required to take part in the ceremony. In order for all to get their chance to be washed clean we were sent up according to departments, and seeing how everyone woke up at 4:00, the day was made or lost according to how quickly it was your turn to go up. Medical department has the blessing and privilege of going first so that we could clean up and stand by to take care of the flood of minor bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes and general complaints of the rest of the crew as they progressed through their day. That turned out to be a HUGE advantage for us because we were considered done after a couple of hours! I was cleaned up and back in bed by 6:30 while the real events of the day hadn’t even really started, nor would start for some divisions for another 3 hours! Meanwhile, they were stranded in their workspaces being made to complete embarrassing activities at the whims of the shellbacks for hours! It is sure nice being a dentist! The entire ship had to be done by 11:00 so that we could clean the ship and continue with our basic duties. The day is an unofficial holiday so nothing else is really expected of us, and the day ends with an ice cream social up on the flight deck in the evening, followed by a cigar social in the same place if you so desire.

The day really was A LOT of fun. It was all very good natured and a lot of laughing and ribbing. I guess you got out of it what you put into it. I don’t think I ever saw anyone upset. It is said the best by my Commander last year in Great Lakes. During one of his lectures we saw a picture of him in a compromising and awkward phase of the ceremonial gauntlet and we all asked what he was doing. He simply said, “I am not at liberty to tell you anything about it, and I am glad I did it and would do it again.” I guess that is how I feel too. I wouldn’t tell a younger sailor what to expect, mostly because I’m a shellback and that is part of the tradition. And I too, am glad I did it.