Visiting teaching

Mormons in Roxbury?

For those unfamiliar with the Boston neighborhoods, Roxbury, Dorchester, and Mattapan are the rough parts of town. Those three neighborhoods are where I'd say 98% of Boston's homicides occur.

I had never spent any time on foot in Roxbury until last week. In September I got back from West Virginia and Georgia. At the end of October, I was assigned a visiting teaching route. For those of you who are non-Mormons, I will briefly explain "visiting teaching." It has sometimes been referred to as assigned friends, but I don't feel any bitterness needs to be associated with it. I think it's a great program and if the only friends from church are assigned ones, so what? They're still friends and it is their job to help you when you need it.

Each female member of the ward (or congregation) is assigned a visiting teaching companion. Mine is Leslie. She lives in Roxbury. More on that later. Together, we were assigned to "visit teach" two lovely, intelligent, talented women from our ward. Brenda and Cheryl. Brenda also lives in Roxbury. Our job as visiting teachers is to meet with (preferably in their homes) Brenda and Cheryl at least once a month. We go and chat and also share a spiritual message. We ask if there is anything they need. I hope that they will feel that I really am sincere when I say that and that one day, when they need something, they will think to call me.

Anyway, last week I braved Roxbury to meet my responsibility as a visiting teacher. I'd never taken the T to Roxbury crossing, so I gave myself to much time and arrived an hour early. Then Leslie forgot me and since I wasn't about to set off on foot without knowing where to go, I waited for her at the T stop for another half an hour. I should have kept a tally of all the police cars and ambulances I saw fly by with lights and sirens. Of course my imagination painted all kinds of pictures of mass murder and mayhem right around the corner. In reality, I don't believe anyone was killed in Roxbury on that particular day, and I think that the last several murders were in Dorchester (although I believe that last police involved shooting with a dead suspect was in Roxbury). If you thought to ask, yes, of course, I was armed.

So I finally made it to Brenda's apartment. Brenda has a really neat job as a professor at a good school. She's also working on a research project in the projects that has to do with all these kids running around with abscesses in their mouths from a lack of dental care. It's very interesting and even the control group of kids get free fluoride treatments, so it's a research project that is doing a lot of good. Hopefully, the results of the project will be grants for some kind of dental health funding for the people who live there.

So why does Brenda live in Roxbury? She drives a mile and a half to work because she sometimes stays late at the office and doesn't want to walk home at 11pm. I don't blame her! Roxbury is no place for a Mormon raised in Utah! Why would anyone choose to live there? It's no place for anyone but thugs, criminals, and Jimmy, a BPD officer who patrols Roxbury in a three man car. Three! Like a clown car with cops piling out of it. I asked him who sits in the plastic seat and has to bang on the window to remind his partners to let him out. Jimmy said the don't drive cage cars like I do, they have wagons for prisoner transport...

Every now and then some poor kid is murdered because of bullets flying around meant for someone else. Those kids don't belong there either, but they didn't have a choice. Why would anyone with a good job and a stable income choose to live there?

Maybe it doesn't seem as creepy in the daylight.

One of the cool things about visiting teaching, besides seeing new and exciting parts of Boston, is the spiritual message. This month, it was a pick your own message from the General Conference talks (which fill up this months issued of the "Ensign," our church magazine). Since Leslie arranged the meeting times, I got to give the lesson. I chose the talk by Elder Oaks (one of the 12 apostles), "Good, Better, Best." He talks about how we choose to spend our time. As Cheryl pointed out, "How we spend our hours is how we spend our life." Elder Oaks mentioned the Mary and Martha story, it was good that Martha was doing all the serving and stuff, but (I'm paraphrasing, of course Elder Oaks said it much more eloquently), the better thing to do would be to learn from the Saviour. So what are some things that I do, that, while good, are maybe taking up time that could be better spent?

Elder Oaks mentioned family activities. Over scheduled kids, kids playing video games and watching TV instead of spending time outside or with their families.

That doesn't apply to me, but I did think of all the time I spend playing Spider Solitaire. That's not even in the good category! Blogging, now that might be a good thing to do. I enjoy it, it can be relaxing, and my friends can read it and know what I've been up to, even when they live far away. But wouldn't it be better to... study Spanish? Practice my bagpipes (maybe not right now, at 0730)? How about increasing my daily dose of pushups from 50 to 75? I could be at the pool swimming right now!

But the best thing I could be doing instead would be reading my scriptures. I'm in the book of Ether, my favorite (it's in the Book of Mormon). It is sitting on the desk in front of me. Or what about Luke? There was something in the "Ensign" this month about reading a chapter of Luke everyday in December to focus on Christ for this time of the year. I could get a head start if I started today (there are 24 chapter in Luke, so it's Christmas by the time you get to the end).

I need to feel that holiday feeling. I'll be working Christmas, just like I was Thanksgiving. I sure didn't feel like I had a lot to be thankful for, so far from home, working, making myself chicken fajitas and eating alone at 0200. Christmas will be the same lonely holiday if I don't do something about it. I think reading about Christ's life and ministry will help. And my coworker Ed did say he'd bring me Christmas dinner. And that's a two hour drive for him to come in on his day off... yeah, friends like him are something to be thankful for.

In the meantime, I resolve to wean myself from Spider Solitaire and spend my free time doing things that matter. Don't worry, I will still blog. Because my friends and loyal readers, you matter and I am thankful for you.

Crime and National Parks

So there's a job opening at Padre Island National Seashore in Texas (the photo is from the NPS site) and I was looking up the park info. I'd heard that it had been named as the third most dangerous park to work at because of poor radio communication and a sad lack of back-up. I was wondering if it still rated at #3. Happily, it is no longer in the top 10, but it did make the dishonorable mention list.

The article I found is a few years old, but it's really good anyway. I think things are pretty much the same now as they were in 2004. It's sad.

Mama, just be thankful I don't want to be a Park Ranger in The Democratic Republic of Congo. How would that be for dangerous?

U.S. Rangers, Park Police Sustain Record Levels of Violence

WASHINGTON, DC, September 1, 2004 (ENS) - Attacks, threats, harassment against National Park Service rangers and U.S. Park Police officers reached a all-time high in 2003, according to agency records released Tuesday by an association of federal employees, keeper of the country's only database documenting violence against federal resource protection employees. At the same time, "scores" of park law enforcement personnel have been reassigned to desks, rangers say.

Public Employees for Environmental Responsibility (PEER) reports that National Park Service commissioned law enforcement officers were victims of assaults 106 times in 2003. More than one-quarter of these encounters resulted in injury to the officers.

This figure tops the 2002 total of 98 assaults but parallels the 2001 previous high of 104 violent incidents.

"Law enforcement officers in the National Park Service are 12 times more likely to be killed or injured as a result of an assault than FBI agents – a rate triple that of the next worst federal agency," said Randall Kendrick, executive director for the U.S. Park Rangers Lodge of the Fraternal Order of Police.

A midnight shift with only one ranger, a nuclear power plant threatened by terrorists, rangers sent out on patrol without dispatch, without backup, without even pepper spray - these are real situations that place the defenders of America's public lands in grave danger, the officers' association warns.

On their 2003 "Most Dangerous National Parks" list, released in June, the Fraternal Order of Police handed the Number One spot to Arizona's Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument for the third year in a row.

After the murder of 28 year old NPS Ranger Kris Eggle on August 9, 2002, the park service bolstered its force at the monument with tactical teams, since removed, and has failed to restore staff levels to previous levels, the officers' association reports.

Eggle's family has became involved in trying to increase funding and support for border security since his death.
Eggle was shot and killed in the line of duty at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, while pursuing members of a drug cartel hit squad who fled into the United States after committing a string of murders in Mexico.
"Despite Congressional hearings where tapes of hundreds of aliens marching through campgrounds at night were shown, and significant media attention garnered, the park is still swarming with potentially violent smugglers of drugs and illegal aliens, and possible threats to homeland security, said the Park Rangers Lodge of the Fraternal Order of Police in its description for the list.

Rangers estimate that at least 250 illegal aliens cross through the park each night.

At Devil's Postpile National Monument in California all the patrol rangers have been removed from the park. "There is no law enforcement presence in the park, and no agreements in place with neighboring law enforcement agencies. This is a complete violation of NPS policy and public trust, yet it has gone unchecked," according to the U.S. Park Rangers Lodge of the Fraternal Order of Police.


Devil's Postpile National Monument was formed when basalt lava cooled into columns. No law enforcement officials are stationed there.

[I actually worked a detail at Devil's Postpile. It's near a National Forest and they wanted a Ranger there for the start of hunting season to conduct patrols for poachers on the park land. My boss at Sequoia told me to be careful, that normally, a poaching patrol would be done with two rangers. Unfortunately for me, they were only sending one at a time. It was cheaper that way. So they set me loose with a satellite phone and my trusty handgun. When I got there I stopped in at the nearest PD. They were great guys. They told me they'd be my backup in 15 minutes (in other words, as quickly as they could) if I called for them. Since my only working form of communication was that satellite phone, what are the chances I'd be able to do that? But is was nice to know they were so close.]

Florida's Biscayne National Park is especially dangerous, marked at Number Six on the list. The Fraternal Order of Police says, "Lots of drug smuggling, illegal fishing, and a nuclear power plant threatened by terrorists, mean danger for a ranger force that is small and getting smaller. While the Coast Guard never sends a boat out at Biscayne with fewer than four officers, the NPS sends its rangers out on the open ocean alone."

At the same time, PEER and the rangers say, the park service has taken officers off law enforcement and patrols, and moved them to desk jobs.

"Scores of Park Service law enforcement personnel," the officers' association says, have been "reassigned to operate a 24-hour "Watch Office" for the Department of Interior that has no dispatch responsibility and whose sole function is to keep Interior brass informed."


[Funny they mention the watch office, I did a detail there to. I made a ton of money on travel and working 21 days straight. I worked with a ranger from North Cascades. We sat in the office all night watching the news on 6 tv screens and surfing the internet. We'd do pushups and situps to stay awake (25 an hour, 200 in a night. I was a pushup machine!) . I think the phone rang once or twice. That was our job, to answer the phone. And to watch the news. It was cake, but I just wanted to get back to Sequoia and ride my horses in the backcountry.]

"The Park Service has failed to provide law enforcement personnel to prevent further violence," said Kendrick, "despite its own projections that an additional 700 rangers are required, the number of rangers is down nine percent."

Two parks, Yellowstone and Grand Teton, experienced a disproportionate number of incidents - 35 - the PEER database shows.

The District of Columbia was next most violent with 15 incidents, with three additional assaults in neighboring Maryland and Virginia.

Rangers in California had a small increase in violence, with 12 incidents. Other states, including Arizona, Nevada and Pennsylvania, also registered multiple attacks.

These figures are not available through the National Park Service, which PEER charges "is the only land management agency that refuses to track violence directed against its biologists, naturalists and non-commissioned rangers."

At the same time, an already chronically understaffed National Park Service law enforcement is increasingly unable to protect visitors, national icons and wildlife, according to representatives of both rangers and U.S. Park Police officers.

"Park police and rangers are being asked to do more for less by political appointees who appear tone deaf to the reality of the challenges," observed PEER executive director, attorney Jeff Ruch.

Ruch and PEER are representing U.S. Park Police Chief Teresa Chambers who is fighting her termination for giving an interview to a "Washington Post" reporter warning of the dangers posed by understaffing of the Capital District's parks to the visiting public and to the national icons, such as the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument.


Teresa Chambers was sworn as the Chief of the United States Park Police in February of 2002. Previously, she served four years as the Chief of the Durham, North Carolina Police Department.

"A large part of the problem is that, in the Park Service, the law enforcement professionals are excluded from budget preparation and needs assessments."

New Homeland Security duties and what Ruch says are "significant diversions of resources ordered by its parent Interior Department," had added millions of dollars to the training cycle for new rangers while eliminating specialized ranger courses."

The Bush administration "has asked for only minor budgetary increases that are well short of its own internal estimates of need," say Kendrick and PEER.

Seven rangers attempt to hold the line on 85 miles of an international border between Texas and Mexico.

[The photo below is of a ranger in Sequoia looking for dope growers. "Rural surveillance" is one of the classes we take at FLETC. We get all dressed up like the guy in the photo and stake out a marijuana garden. We fail the scenario if we're spotted by the role players. It was good training, especially since it's relevant to so many parks.]

These rangers who patrol the Amistad National Recreation Area in Texas are at great risk, the Fraternal Order warned. Calling the area "another smugglers paradise," for drugs and aliens, the the officers association said that "with days off, it means that only one or two are on at any given hour of the day, and at night, the park is turned over to the smugglers."

"The few rangers are supported by an inoperable radio system that is so old that replacement parts are no longer manufactured," the officers said, but are encouraged by talk of more boats and a staff increase.

Number Three on the list is also in Texas - Big Bend National Park.

The Fraternal Order of Police Describes the Parks on its 2003 Most Dangerous National Parks List

3. Big Bend National Park (Texas): Imagine a place on the border where law enforcement is ordered by management to allow illegal aliens into the country, and to avoid the border area entirely if crime is suspected. Such is the story at Big Bend, where the park superintendent has chosen to confront crime by surrendering to it. The park has blatantly violated NPS orders to hire law enforcement staff before hiring other personnel, leaving the few remaining rangers understaffed, unsupported, and overwhelmed. Big Bend is a classic example of a preventable ranger death waiting to happen in the park with the largest boundary with Mexico.

4. Lake Mead National Recreation Area (Nevada/Arizona): Despite multiple congressional appropriations for 24-hour patrol coverage over the years, law enforcement goes home at night due to continued staff shortages, leaving the park for drunk drivers, drunk boaters, and Las Vegas-based gang members. The only National Park with its own armored car, Lake Mead has at least 17 fewer rangers than last year.

[They may have an armored car, but Death Valley has the only Park Service Hummer I've ever seen. It's painted white with the green stripe and arrowhead. Very cool]

5. Coronado National Memorial (Arizona): A small park with a very big problem of drugs, smugglers, and a staff too small to make a difference. Each evening brings a parade of crime marching through the park. Drug networks collect intelligence on park operations to better gauge how to successfully infiltrate the country.

6. Biscayne National Park (Florida):

Biscayne National Park, where drug smuggling, illegal fishing abound but the park service sends its rangers out alone.

7. Shenandoah National Park (Virginia): With a radio system out of the 1950s, known as the worst radio system in the National Park Service, the understaffed ranger workforce is coping with a large number of armed poachers and encroaching suburban crime. The ranger staff has been cut in violation of NPS policy, without public outcry or repercussions from Washington.

8. Delaware Water Gap (New Jersey/Pennsylvania): Once one of the best law enforcement programs in the NPS, Delaware Water Gap now has half the rangers in the field it did in the mid-1990s. At night, only one or two rangers are on patrol. They've been instructed to avoid patrolling high crime areas. The park, within an easy drive of both the New York and Philadelphia metro areas, has a major highway through it, bringing in crime that is often ignored. Although visitation is heavy and crime flourishing, the rangers are on the defensive and losing ground.

9. Edison National Historic Site (West Orange, New Jersey): Troubles of the big city, from a soaring murder rate to gang activity, has this small park surrounded, and rangers outmanned and outgunned. Rangers are denied pepper spray, shotguns and rifles, and access to a dispatch, despite being assigned to work without backup in an area of growing urban crime.


Threatened by vandals and burglars, the park is closed to visitors, with Edison's irreplaceable treasures under siege behind a fence. Yet there is no 24-hour law enforcement presence, or even a burglar alarm to protect the historic artifacts, some made by the hands of Thomas Edison himself.

10. Yellowstone National Park (Wyoming): At the beginning of the 2003 season Yellowstone eliminated its entire seasonal law enforcement staff. This forced rangers into solo patrols on the roads, few patrols in the backcountry, and a dangerous lack of backup in a park with a growing incident load. Although the staff has been growing through the summer, it is still well below last years level, and still in violation of NPS policy on staffing levels.

The 2003 list of Dangerous National Parks reflects the greater dangers facing NPS rangers in smaller, less-visited National Park areas such as Amistad National Recreation Area near Del Rio, Texas, and Coronado National Monument in Arizona . small parks in isolated areas with minimal staff combating an invasion of drugs, smugglers, and violent criminals.

Crime on the southern border is not the only threat park rangers face.

Dishonorable Mentions - A First-Time Category

Mojave National Preserve (California): Three rangers attempt to protect 1.7 million acres of desert land against methamphetamine labs, a huge network of illegal off-road-vehicle trails, and commercial thieves looking for native American artifacts.



Bandelier National Monument (New Mexico): An internal NPS audit found the park in violation of most of the basic operating procedures demanded by NPS and Interior policy.

Padre Island National Seashore (Texas): Largely bypassed by the increased funding other border parks received, and handicapped by not having Customs or Border Patrol agents stationed in the park, Padre Island rangers fight a short-handed battle against drug smuggling and illegal aliens. More resources have been promised for the future, and are eagerly awaited by the overworked field staff.

[Despite it's place on the dishonorable mentions list, I am curious. Protecting the Kemp's Ridley sea turtle, the world's most endangered sea turtle, from poachers appeals to the part of me that got a Wildlife Biology degree and spent countless childhood hours and days catching creepy crawlies. Catching drug and people smugglers appeals to the rest of me. I'm curious to know what and if they've changed anything since 2004.]

Devil's Postpile National Monument (California): The park has been made totally safe for rangers and criminals alike, because all the patrol rangers have been removed from the park.

Grand Canyon National Park (Arizona): After an internal audit showed a program in great disarray, and few changes have been made. The park still violates basic principles of safe operations by running a midnight shift with only one ranger.

Jean Lafitte (Louisiana): Money designated for law enforcement is being directed to other projects, and the law enforcement staff has declined from eight rangers to two within 5 years.

These are classic examples of how, in the words of the Inspector General of the Interior Department, law enforcement in National Parks is in a "disquieting state of disorder."

Applied for a job...

...here.

Does anyone recognize that hunk of rock? You all should, it's the highest mountain on the North American continent and it resides inside one of our national parks. That's right folks, it's a long shot, but I applied to a position in Denali National Park.

It's a subject to furlough position which means I (I'm being optimistic here) would be on unpaid leave during part of the year. The good part about that is I would have time to travel the world. The bad part is that they decide how long the furlough is, it could be 2 weeks, it could be 6 months! And while I'm furloughed I'm not accumulating time towards when I can retire. So if I were furloughed 6 months every year, I'd have to work twice as long. Well, except that there's mandatory retirement at 57.

Another bad thing is that there's no gov't housing available. I've been to both Healy and Cantwell and I can't see that there are a lot of housing options in those two towns. Fairbanks is a pretty long commute!

When the job was first posted, I was all set to apply. Then I thought about all the city things I'd miss out on. My biggest hangups? Men and bagpipes. My dating pool would shrink drastically if I were to move to an area that just has fewer people. Then I thought, I'm not having great luck here in Boston, why not move? If I'm meant to have a family, someone will come along, no matter where I am. As for the bagpipes, Fairbanks has a bagpipe band. Sure, it's no 20 minute drive to practice, but it could work.

Now it's just a matter of getting the job. I don't know what my chances are. I imagine there are a lot of people who want to work in Alaska and Denali is one of the few parks that's in a good location. Imagine working at Gates of the Arctic, for instance, where your major metropolis is Anaktuvuk Pass (with a population under 300).

I'm hoping that most people will be put off by the furlough. Maybe a lot of people didn't even apply because they want a year round job. Maybe the only people that did apply are seasonal rangers trying to get permanent jobs. As seasonals, they haven't been to FLETC. Denali could save a bundle hiring a FLETC grad like me (I was also one of the class corporals and I got awards for academics and shooting. What's not to love?). I applied under open competitive (everyone and their mom can apply) and merit promotion, which is for people who already are permanent employees.

I really hope they like my application. A Denali Park Ranger with a furlough? It's my dream job! I spent 9 years in Alaska and I loved it. I miss it.

Wish me luck!

And if any of you wondered what happened with the experiment, Bill came home and replaced the water. Dianne never had a chance to die of dehydration.

Command Presence

My boss saw me wearing my knit hat the other night. It gets cold out at night and, especially in the wind, my little ears start to freeze. I like my hat and no amount of ridicule will stop me from wearing it. But when the boss saw me, he laughed. He said there's nothing wrong with my hat, he just thinks it detracts from my authoritativeness. Basically, the boss thinks I don't look as mean with warm ears.

You be the judge. Here I am, looking mean, with and without the hat. I think I look plum full of authority both ways, especially if you imagine me yelling at you. I don't think many of you have heard my "cop yell." Lets just say that some sissy Rangers in my FLETC class were offended by my yell during Officer Response Tactics (the fancy FLETC phrase for our butt-kicking class). Apparently, a few of my tree-hugging, granola crunching, classmates did not like being yelled at when they played the part of suspects about to get their butts kicked. But the instructors sure thought it was funny, hearing that vicious noise come from my feminine mouth (especially when the other girls in the class sounded, well, like girls).

So I have a mean yell, don't forget that when you judge whether I look tough enough in the hat.

The Experiment

Dianne. My roommate. She's a nice lady, in her quiet way. She's always polite and she feeds me left over Halloween candy and cake (when she makes cake).

But she is strange. The sweatpants, for instance. One night I couldn't help but notice that her sweatpants had a hole in the butt. It was about the size of a fist. I was embarrassed for her, so I told her about it. "Oh, I know," she says, "I should probably get a new pair." That was a month ago. The hole is now large enough to put your head through (I am NOT exaggerating) and it's driving poor Bill up the wall. Every time I see Bill he tells me, "she wore those pants again!" and he complains about having to see her butt. Sure, she has underwear on, and everyone in the house knows what color it is... nonetheless Bill is offended. I like Bill, so the other day when I drove by Kmart I stopped in and found a nice pair of fleece lined sweatpants on sale for $5. I can easily spend $5 to keep Bill from killing Dianne.

I thought Dianne might be embarrassed that I bought her clothing. Instead, she seemed pleasantly surprised and she thanked me. I told her that Bill and I had noticed the hole had gotten quite large and no, that's OK, you don't need to pay me back. That was last week.

Today I caught her in the kitchen wearing her old pants with her underwear hanging out. I couldn't help myself, "Dianne! You're wearing those sweatpants again!"

"I know," she said laughing, "even after you got me those new ones." I told her it was a good thing Bill's not here to get offended (he's at his sister's for Thanksgiving). She laughed. I think maybe she likes offending Bill. It's hard to tell with her.

My latest Dianne experiment is to see if she'll refill the water. With Bill and Victor gone for the weekend it's just Dianne and I in the house. Our house has really old pipes and we're not supposed to drink out of the tap so we have one of those bottled water thingies you see in offices with the 5 gallon jugs on there upside down. I don't think Dianne has ever put a new bottle on it. I usually do. Victor takes out the trash, Bill cleans all the time, I keep up with the water (and clean some of the time) and buy the dishsoap, but as far as I can tell, Dianne does nothing to benefit the house. This also drives Bill up the wall (Victor is pretty laid back).

So my experiment is this: Will Dianne put a new water bottle on the thing? There are several options.

1. Yes, she will.
2. She'll ask me to do it.
3. She will suffer from dehydration.
4. She will drink from the poisonous tap until I put a new bottle on.
5. She will walk to the store and buy water.
6. Bill or Victor will come back and put the new bottle on before Dianne has a chance to suffer any ill effects.

My hypothesis? Dianne will die of dehydration before she will put a new bottle on.

What am I going to drink, you may wonder? I'll be working so much today that my one full water bottle will tide me over.

I'll let you know what happens.

Staying up late to watch the sunrise

Sunrise in Boston with the USS Cassin Young.

The USS Cassin Young is a WWII Destroyer that reminds me of the submarine in "The Hunt for Red October." One night one of the sprinklers onboard was malfunctioning so the alarm company guy and I searched the ship for the broken device. All the old radio equipment and computer and radar stuff lit with soft red light really looked cool. Narrow passageways, low ceilings, it's just like in the movie. It's one of my favorite places to be at night.



Yesterday I stayed up to watch the sunrise. I'm glad I did, it was really nice. I love how the water turns pink to. When I first moved here, after working at Acadia, Sequoia and Mt. Rainier National Parks and after living in Alaska for 9 years, I didn't think I'd be able to find anything beautiful in the city. I was wrong. It's a different kind of beautiful, but it's still here.

My two dates

I know all of my eager readers are wondering how they went. Was I able to fit them both in? Did either one know about the other? This is new for me, all this dating, but I like it. Options are good.

The first date went really well. The cancer researcher guy laughed at my witty comments and he's really smart and interesting. He's from the former Soviet Union and he was able to emigrate here because his grandfather was stuck in a gulag for being a priest. So the persecution of his family made it easier for him to come here. He came with no English, but worked fixing cars and painting, started going to college, synthesized some new molecule, and got a full ride scholarship to Brown University. He's studying cancer and looking into med schools in the Boston area. We talked for about three hours and have tentative plans for a second date because he has never had a root beer float (I think I can ingest some high fructose corn syrup for a special occasion).

The second date involved dinner at a really nice Italian place with Mr. ATF. Normally I don't get rides from first dates, preferring to meet them somewhere and having my own, independent means of escape if the date goes bad, but I relax that for other law enforcement officers. The dinner was really nice and the conversation was good to. He brought me home to drop me off and we were talking in the car... about God. Yeah, you read that right. We talked (OK, he did most of the talking) about God until 2am. It was really neat. I had no idea that our beliefs would have such random similarities. It was a very fascinating conversation, although I found I had to talk like a Martian (ie a man) and interrupt or I'd never be heard.

He left at 2am, and at 3am the guy I really like called. Unfortunately, I did not get to my phone in time and I don't have his number to call him back (it's restricted so I don't get it on my caller ID). He works nights and must have forgotten that I wouldn't be at work. Hopefully, he'll call again tonight. We've had lots of great converstations, but he has yet to ask me out. Should I take matters into my own hands? Does he expect me to? What is he waiting for? If he waits to long, I won't be available. These other two guys are pretty neat.

Blood donation gone awry

So the last time I donated blood, I have to shamefully admit, was about a year ago. I'm not exactly eager to have needles stuck in my elbow. With IV practice, I limited my classmates and fellow medics to wrist and hand sticks. Somehow, the elbow just feels bad to me.

The last time I went in, I went to the Red Cross donation place downtown. It was the only place I knew of and it was easy to find. I rode my bike there. I was a little disappointed to find out that they don't take regular blood, but they roped me into donating platelets. I agreed because of the pictures of the cute kids with leukemia all over the walls.

Platelet donation takes about 90 minutes. I had not arrived with any reading material. Another woman was there in the chair next to me. We were sharing a TV and the phlebotomist was asking what we wanted to watch of a list of movies that were on. One of the options was "The Wedding Crashers." I'd never heard of it, but the girl next to me said, "Oh, I've been wanting to see that!"

I don't get offended very easily, but that was one offensive movie. It's all about two guys who show up to weddings of people they don't know so they can have one night stands with the female guests who are somehow more desperate for sex since they're at a wedding. It's a horrible movie, but the girl in the chair next to me was laughing and enjoying it, and I didn't get to offended at the beginning (I kept thinking it would get better) so I ended up suffering through the whole thing.

Add that to the very uncomfortable process involved in platelet donation. The tingling fingers and lips (because of the anti-coagulants), the pressure when the blood minus the platelets is put back in, and just having the needle in my tender elbow for an extended amount of time... I never want to give platelets again! Cute, sick kids or no. Is that a terrible thing to say?

Afterwards, I ate some of the food they have there and rode my bike home. No problem.

So the Red Cross called me while I was in Georgia. Normally, I can't say no. "Well, I'm sorry, I'm just to busy to do any small lifesaving service today. Nope, I'm booked all year." But, happily, being a few states away was enough to put them off. It didn't take them long to come after me once I got back.

I decided to give red blood cells this time, it doesn't take as long. RBCs is only a 20 minute process. There was the same tingling and uncomfortable needle thing, but it was a much easier experience. That is, until I tried to leave.

The three black phlebotomists said I looked pale. "I always look like this," I answered. Apparently I'd been pinker when I came in. So they made me stay there in the chair and they wouldn't let me read (I'd come prepared) because they wanted my head back. "Even if I hold it way up here?" "No, you must relax." Very mean lady. ;)

When they finally let me stand up I felt a little woozy, but I wasn't about to tell them that. I was tired of sitting there, not reading. Apparently my color had improved (from laughing at them teasing me) so they let me leave.

Sometimes I can be stubborn and pigheaded. And impatient.

On the stairs out of the T my ears started to ring, a familiar precursor to unconsciousness. "Great, on the stairs, so I can fall a long way." Instead I stopped on the landing in the middle and flexed my abdominal muscles, took a couple big breathes, and waited until I figured I could make it to the top. I was able to make it home without passing out. Whew! Good thing I hadn't tried to ride my bike!

I went home, feeling weak, and slept non-stop for 11.5 hours.

I'm not sure why I had such problems, but I think it might have been a combination of a lack of meaty food that morning, an ongoing insomnia problem, and the fact that I was short a whole pint of the oxygen carrying portion of my blood instead of the clotting portion.

I did find out that after I go to Nepal they won't want my blood for a year. I'm kind of relieved that I'll have an excuse not to go through this experience again for a while.

More pictures of my frogs

Look at how tiny they are! Here's one with a cricket sticking out of it's mouth. So adorable! (the cricket may disagree)

Here's the end of a pen next to this little guy for scale.


This one didn't quite know what to do with the fruit fly on it's head. You may notice that it's face looks a little weird. It's a brand new frog so it's head still looks kind of tadpolish.

How many dates can Liz squeeze into one afternoon?

Two isn't to ambitious, is it?

Date #1: 1400 hours. Cafe near MIT with a cancer researcher guy.

Date #2 : Time still to be determined, but it's "dinner," so that implies maybe 1800 hours. Or 1900 hours, to be more fashionable. In the North End (yummy Italian food!) with the ATF agent. That's Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms for any non federalis who might be reading. Mr. ATF is probably to old for me, but who am I to turn down a nice dinner with someone who makes a disgusting amount of money and will therefore, buy my food? I also plan on having desert. But he will save $$ on drinks, since I prefer water. In case anyone thinks I agreed to a date because I wanted a free dinner, I am also looking forward to hearing ATF stories. It's not everyday that I get an ATF agent all to myself. And getting all dressed up for a night out in the North End is fun and I don't get to do it enough.

My New Zealand Quilt

My Mama posted a blog on her site about one of the quilts she made for me. Since I know Mama's quilting friends visit my site and Mama said she didn't have any digital pictures of the quilt she made me... I'll post them here.

The secret message that she quilted into the bottom border was, "Liz is my hero" and "Liz your mother loves you." It took me about two years, maybe three, to notice that the seemingly random quilty squiggles made words. She's very sneaky, my mom.

I love you to.

People who like Liz

Where to start... Well let's see (in no particular order)

1. Mama. It goes without saying that my Mom thinks I'm wonderful.
2. Dad. Always ready to help with whatever random puzzle I need solved. Computer? Car? Retirement planning? Camera?
3. Jim. My big bro, who always seems to have time to chat on the phone with me.
4. Sheena. Married to Jim. I really like her, so it stands to reason that she likes me to.
5. Jeff. The little brother. Although less of a conversationalist, I know he loves me.
6. Frieda. Married to Jeff. We haven't had much time to get to know each other, but she's sweet. Being sweet, she must like me.
7. Cait. My sister. I haven't heard from her in months, despite the letters and postcards I sent. But she's got her own problems and maybe someday she'll remember that she likes me.
8. Laura. She wanted me back in her life and I'm glad I'm there. Even if it's long distance.
9. Lauren. How I miss you! An excellent partner in crime fighting, I wish you were still here. I'll never forget those two guys in the stolen car we got... We need to go hiking together more often.
10. Shannon. She always has such good advice. So reasonable, so brilliant. She must be my most clear seeing friend ever.
11. MJ. So spunky, so energetic. My day is always brighter when she's around. She gave me her car and the most memorable Thanksgiving dinner ever (the car was memorable in a two flat tires at the same time kind of way. Not as good).
12. Ross. He says I'm a good person and he always did say so.
13. Kurt. He's brave enough to want to spend three weeks with me in Nepal! He must like me.
14. Mitchem. He teases me mercilessly. He calls me "Bunky." He's one of my favorite people.
15. Greg. He said I'm a good officer and the best female officer he's ever worked with.
16. Dave. He says he loves having me on night shift so he doesn't have to search the females. He treats me like an equal.
17. The Boss. He gives me leave and doesn't hassle me to much about it. He encouraged me to apply for the special response team. He gave me a good evaluation.
18. John. Busy down at FLETC, he still has time to return my calls and emails.
19. Amber. Going to law school and working, she doesn't have much time to hang out anymore, but we had a great time at my first ever Broadway show, "Little Women." I was so happy to find someone to go with me. She left John at home and we had a girls night out.
20. Steve. One of the greatest guys I've worked with. I got to visit him after he left the park service and went back to working for APD. They let me stay at their house and treated me like family.
21. Kathy. The other half of Steve. She always asks personal questions about my love life. Somehow, I never mind answering. She's a smart lady.
22. Peggy. She shared her little baby with me. I got to visit him in the hospital before he died.
23. Drew. My favorite person from my first Police Academy I still get Christmas cards from him and his family in Bethel, AK.
24. Kerry. Busy with her PhD, she still sends the occasional email and I enjoy hearing from her.
25. Gavin. My Irish po-po friend. I picked him up in Boston having never met him before in my life. But he was a fellow cop in need of a police supply store. I may have gotten lost getting him there, but he was impressed by the effort I went to and we still keep in touch.
26. Chuck. I went to his wedding and he sends me emails whenever he does something cool (like the first time he tased someone).
27. Charis. My old roommate from Valdez. She liked me as a roommate, even though I left her alone with the Kirby salesman and awoke to find a new Kirby in our living room. I felt bad for abandoning her, but she forgave me.
28. Bill. One of my current roommates. He must like me, he does my dishes when I forget them in the sink. I feel bad, but he tells me that I do stuff around the house so he doesn't mind.
29. Victor. My other roommate. He tries to help me with my Spanish and I try to understand his English, but he's always smiling.
30. Dave. A different Dave. He likes me, he wanted to help me get a job at Organ Pipe. I'm not a desert, drug/arms/people smuggling kind of Ranger. Though it sounds exciting, I have to think of my poor Mama.
30. My Bishop. Doesn't everyone's Bishop like them?
31. My Heavenly Father.
32. Jesus Christ. I guess these last two love everyone, so They're kind of a freebie, but I'll have Them here anyway because it doesn't matter what I do, They'll always be on this list.

People who don't like Liz
1. Michelle.
2. People I have arrested. I don't think all of them hold a grudge. But some might. Not that I blame them.
3. Chris Silva. The crazy guy. I told him to leave because I didn't want to listen to his sad story. He said he wasn't doing anything wrong and I reminded him of the last time he'd been over when he threatened to take the BPD officer's gun. He got mad and I'm pretty sure he hates me. The dislike is mutual.
4. People who haven't met me yet. Which isn't their fault.

Now there may be A LOT of people in the last category, people who haven't met me yet. But since I haven't met them either, the ones in the frist group mean more to me anyway. And I know I've missed some. Like Wendy. I just remembered Wendy, who likes me. And of course there are my aunts, uncles, and cousins. My Granny to. My home and visiting teachers (it's their assignment to like me, but since they seem like likeable people themselves, I don't think they have to try to hard).

So I really should relax and not worry and stress to much about the people in the Anti-Liz category. The people that are Pro-Liz could kick their butts anyway.

On patrol with Tommy

Tonight the weather was so mild and it was so quiet and peaceful (and don't I need some peace today) that I got out of the office and the patrol car and walked around Bunker Hill at 3am.

Not much is out at that hour, and anyone who is gets a hard look from me. But Tommy was there, looking cute and lonely, so I sat down to chat. I have to admit that he doesn't have much to say, but I sure did. Tommy's a good listener and he likes me, I can tell. He thinks I'm a good person, or he wouldn't stay.

I got up to continue my patrol. Tommy normally doesn't join me, but he was lonelier today than normal so we patrolled together. We walked around the monument, looking down on the peacefully parked cars. I was hoping that someone would come along and break into one while I was there watching, but no takers tonight. My little sidekick and I walked around a while before I decided to head in. Tommy didn't follow me to my car, I guess he's got mice to catch or whatever it is that cats do at 3am.

The most "climbed" mountain in the world

Mt. Monadnock (oddly enough it's the brand name for my baton) is hiked more than any other mountain in the world. Mt. Fuji in Japan has similar numbers of visitors, but they have some kind of tram to the top, so I think a lot of people cheat.

I got up early this morning so I could make the two hour drive. I got off work at 0200, so getting up at 0830 was kind of a chore. But I didn't want my one chance at hiking for the week to be wasted. It's a two hour drive, but I managed to make it 2.5. I got lost trying to follow MapQuest directions through Somerville. It would've worked fine if they labeled the streets there.

Anyway, I made it and I still had time to hike to the top and back down in daylight. It only took 3.5 hours, and that was with a half hour break at the top for pictures. Monadnock is only 3,156 feet high, but the views are still pretty good. Why don't I have any pictures of the views from the top, you ask? Well, my new camera came with a memory card that holds 8, that's right, 8 pictures. So I used my 35mm once I filled my memory card.

Here I am at the half way point. A girl scout troop leader took my picture. Notice my full backpack. I weighed it after (so it was lighter from the water I drank and food I ate) and it was 15 lbs. It seems a little much for a day hike, but it is stuffed full of extra layers. It was miserably windy and cold in the parking lot, so I over packed.

The trail was pretty steep so my legs are quite sore as I sit here. Imagine how strong my legs would be if I could get out every week! I'd get legs like a Rugby player! Hmmm. Then again, while bulky, muscly, legs look good on Rugby players, I might look a little funny.

For those of you who don't know, last night my boss approved my leave for 3 weeks in March! I am going to Nepal. My friend Kurt is coming to. I'm quite excited about that since I usually have a hard time finding travel companions for some of my more adventurous schemes.

Part of my motivation for the hike today was to get in shape for hiking in Nepal. Although 3,156 feet won't get me in shape for the altitudes Kurt and I will be hiking at... it is a start.

My pets

So I got my new digital camera in the mail yesterday. I've already put it to work with these pictures of my babies.

I acquired some tadpoles this summer. It's taking them an amazingly long time to transform into frogs. I can only hazard a guess that spinach is somehow not as nutritious as the pond scum they would normally eat.

So far I have six baby frogs. It was a stressful first couple weeks with the little guys. We'd had a few cold days so I was unable to locate any appropriately sized bugs outside. The crickets at the pet store were far too large. I wasn't even able to attract any fruit flies in my kitchen by leaving food out! They're always around when I don't have frogs to feed... The frogs start out smaller than the nail on my pinky finger. Somehow I was able to keep those froglets alive. I found a small inch worm on one of my houseplants, I pulled the legs off the smallest crickets I could find at Petsmart, I caught two little flies that I found in the office and I brought them home, I did everything I could think of. Then Shannon said, "Why don't you just order some fruit flies? Surely there must be some place you can get them, people are always using them for research and school projects." It's nice having brilliant friends.

I was able to find wingless fruit flies (very handy since the lid on the terrarium is wire mesh). They're very tiny and even the smallest frogs snap them up.

I've had no froglet fatalities, despite their tendency to hop out of the cage when I'm cleaning. Luckily, I've kept a close eye on them. And now that I have the nutritious little flies to feed them, I won't have any die of starvation. My only concern is that the biggest frog will soon be able to swallow the smallest. I must diligently keep him full of crickets or find him another terrarium!

Clase de Espanol

Lately, my weekly Spanish class has been a source of extreme frustration. Why was learning German in high school so easy when Spanish seems so hard? Am I retarded? Why does everyone else seem to understand what the teacher is saying? How does everyone else already know how to put the sentences together? There were days when I wanted to stay home. The only reason I went was because I thought, "How many times are you going to try to learn Spanish before you actually do it?"

There was last year when I signed up for the class at the nearby community college. Then they told me I'd go to FLETC in November. The college wouldn't let me change the class to audit so I dropped it. Only to have FLETC pushed back to January.

There was the spring semester of 2005 at UAF. I was taking my EMT 2 class at the same time. Evenings spent at the fire station sticking my friends with IV's and massive amounts of studying left no time for Espanol. I learned very little Spanish from that class and I regretted wasting my money.

Countless audio tapes, CDs and textbooks litter my bookshelves. Untouched.

I've been so frustrated I decided I need to study. Once a week class isn't enough. In high school I had German class 5 days a week. So I busted out some of those CDs and I've been listening to them as I surf the internet, get ready for work, or clean my room.

In class last night we played Simon says, or "Simone dice." While my speaking (hablando) skills aren't very good, my comprehension is improving. I actually won the game. I was left standing at the end. It was a small thing really, but I needed the confidence boost. Learning languages is hard for me, apparently. Now I understand the guys in my bagpipe class who stopped coming. They had such a problem learning to read music. But if they had stuck with it, like Mo and John, they'd be doing so much better. So I'm going to stick with it. When I look at Mo's gargantuan fingers on the bagpipe chanter I wonder how they will ever move fast enough to play well. When I hear my garbled, strangled pronunciation of Spanish I wonder how I will ever speak well. But Mo and I will keep trying anyway.