Just two more weeks and I'll be on my way to Nepal and India for a fantastic adventure! All I have left to do before I go:
Buy lots of film
Extra batteries for cameras and headlamp
Excavate expedition weight long johns from storage
Find a not so skeezy buy not too expensive hotel in Delhi for one night (any ideas?)
Book one more train ticket (Delhi to Gwalior)
Try to meet my fundraising goal for the hospital
Treat hiking clothes with that bug repellent stuff
Return library books
Buy lots of crickets for the frogs
Friday, February 29, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Mormons
I love Mormons.
I spoke in church today. There are few things I find more uncomfortable and terrifying than speaking in church. My heart races like it does when I hear the code for a real bad guy. I shake like I just finished wrestling someone and the adrenaline is trying to drain away. And I cry. That's the worst. I can find a murdered kid in the woods, look a terrified man in the eyes as he dies, and not shed a tear until I'm safely home. But put me in front of a congregation and make me speak about my testimony and I have no self control.
The topic was "why I believe." Why couldn't I speak about tithing? Tithing is a nice, safe topic. I'm pretty sure I could give a 5 to 7 minute talk on tithing without even a sniffle.
I used a quote by C.S. Lewis that I had to pause half way through because I was oddly unable to see.
"God has infinite attention to spare for each one of us. He does not have to deal with us in the mass. You are as much alone with Him as if you were the only being He had ever created. When Christ died, He died for you individually just as much as if you had been the only man [or woman] in the world."
The bishopric were all wiping their eyes when I got done. I noticed a few people in the congregation were all weepy to. Mine was the last talk of the meeting and the other two had been really good. It was a fantastic meeting and I can't count the number of people who thanked me for my talk or told me they really liked it. That was nice.
Afterwards I met a girl who told me I should give a self defense class to the women of our ward. She then told me of the cop who saved her life. She doesn't even know who he is, but he'd given a class to a bunch of women at church for Enrichment (periodic activities that cover a wide range of topics). Some time after the class a man broke into her apartment and was watching her sleep. He was pacing back and forth by her bed and then he grabbed the covers around her face. She said that she remembered the police officer saying that most attackers aren't used to their victims screaming. She said it was the hardest thing she'd ever done, but she screamed as loud as she could. He jumped back, surprised, and she was able to run past him to her roommates room where they called the police.
She doesn't know who that cop was, so she can't tell him her story and how his words very likely saved her life. We may never know the far reaching consequences of our words or our actions. People listen to us. You know, sometimes. There's a lot of power in that.
I spoke in church today. There are few things I find more uncomfortable and terrifying than speaking in church. My heart races like it does when I hear the code for a real bad guy. I shake like I just finished wrestling someone and the adrenaline is trying to drain away. And I cry. That's the worst. I can find a murdered kid in the woods, look a terrified man in the eyes as he dies, and not shed a tear until I'm safely home. But put me in front of a congregation and make me speak about my testimony and I have no self control.
The topic was "why I believe." Why couldn't I speak about tithing? Tithing is a nice, safe topic. I'm pretty sure I could give a 5 to 7 minute talk on tithing without even a sniffle.
I used a quote by C.S. Lewis that I had to pause half way through because I was oddly unable to see.
"God has infinite attention to spare for each one of us. He does not have to deal with us in the mass. You are as much alone with Him as if you were the only being He had ever created. When Christ died, He died for you individually just as much as if you had been the only man [or woman] in the world."
The bishopric were all wiping their eyes when I got done. I noticed a few people in the congregation were all weepy to. Mine was the last talk of the meeting and the other two had been really good. It was a fantastic meeting and I can't count the number of people who thanked me for my talk or told me they really liked it. That was nice.
Afterwards I met a girl who told me I should give a self defense class to the women of our ward. She then told me of the cop who saved her life. She doesn't even know who he is, but he'd given a class to a bunch of women at church for Enrichment (periodic activities that cover a wide range of topics). Some time after the class a man broke into her apartment and was watching her sleep. He was pacing back and forth by her bed and then he grabbed the covers around her face. She said that she remembered the police officer saying that most attackers aren't used to their victims screaming. She said it was the hardest thing she'd ever done, but she screamed as loud as she could. He jumped back, surprised, and she was able to run past him to her roommates room where they called the police.
She doesn't know who that cop was, so she can't tell him her story and how his words very likely saved her life. We may never know the far reaching consequences of our words or our actions. People listen to us. You know, sometimes. There's a lot of power in that.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Indian prisons; how bad can they be?
It's the Turkish prisons I've always been warned against. I've never heard a peep about Indian prisons, though I don't imagine they would be filled with all the comforts of home.
Why am I suddenly curious? Well, I was reading in my Lonely Planet guidebook that women traveling alone in India shouldn't make eye contact with any men. Apparently, that would be an invitation for sex. Of course.
Unfortunately for me, looking at people is what I do. And if I see someone looking at me, I give them more than the casual glance. Why are they looking at me? Are they a threat? Are they out of place? Are they currently breaking the law?
This habit of mine may get me in trouble.
For instance, if I came across this leering man, I would look at him twice. Or three times. He would mistakenly think my attention meant he was going to star in the average American sitcom. "Sex and the City" perhaps. So he might think he could do something assinine like grab my butt. Then I might do something assinine like break his face.
This is where the Indian prison comes in. There I'd be, yelling for consular notification. I'd be thrown into a dark, dank, Count of Monte Cristo style dungeon. I'd be lucky to have a squat toilet. There wouldn't be any way to boil my water and I'd get dysentery. No hand sanitizer. No toilet paper.
Meanwhile, butt-grabber would play dumb. With no teeth and bleeding profusely from the nose, he'd make a convincing victim. He'd make no mention of the butt grab.
I'll leave a detailed itinerary with my employer. If I don't return to work, hopefully they'll start checking the prisons.
Why am I suddenly curious? Well, I was reading in my Lonely Planet guidebook that women traveling alone in India shouldn't make eye contact with any men. Apparently, that would be an invitation for sex. Of course.
Unfortunately for me, looking at people is what I do. And if I see someone looking at me, I give them more than the casual glance. Why are they looking at me? Are they a threat? Are they out of place? Are they currently breaking the law?
This habit of mine may get me in trouble.
For instance, if I came across this leering man, I would look at him twice. Or three times. He would mistakenly think my attention meant he was going to star in the average American sitcom. "Sex and the City" perhaps. So he might think he could do something assinine like grab my butt. Then I might do something assinine like break his face.
This is where the Indian prison comes in. There I'd be, yelling for consular notification. I'd be thrown into a dark, dank, Count of Monte Cristo style dungeon. I'd be lucky to have a squat toilet. There wouldn't be any way to boil my water and I'd get dysentery. No hand sanitizer. No toilet paper.
Meanwhile, butt-grabber would play dumb. With no teeth and bleeding profusely from the nose, he'd make a convincing victim. He'd make no mention of the butt grab.
I'll leave a detailed itinerary with my employer. If I don't return to work, hopefully they'll start checking the prisons.
Friday, February 22, 2008
The Interview
I hate phone interviews. I'm so much better in person.
My interview with Denali was Wednesday. Wednesday night I told the sad story to Bear and Tracey at work. They didn't seem to think it was as bad as I did. They cheered me somewhat by saying that my answers sounded pretty good to them. Bear said there isn't anyone more qualified for the job than I. I think he was just trying to bolster my confidence and make me feel better, but it did work. A little. I have no idea who else was interviewed. Or how many others. There are so many talented Rangers out there. What if some guy from Yellowstone or Glacier applied? They'd never pick a Ranger who's been stuck in an urban park over someone who's been doing real rangering for the last umpteen years.
Despite this, I did get to the interview stage. And today I found out that even with that sad interview, I'm still being considered. I got an email with pictures of the area. The housing (no electricity! No running water, but a shower and laundry a short bike ride away. Yippeee!!!!), the ambulance (it would be my very own!), the patrol truck, the mountains, the dog team, the snowmachines, the patrol planes and helicopter. They have tasers, rifles, and park medics. I could be a park medic!
I also found out today that my SWAT school tuition can be refunded without any penalty up to 30 days before the class. I still have almost two months! That means that if Denali did offer me a job I could go! I didn't sign any contract, but I said I'd work here another year if they spent the money to send me to SWAT school. And I would, dream job in Denali or not.
If Denali doesn't hire me, I'm going to SWAT school! Bear said the best part of SWAT school is going out drinking with the crazy SWAT guys on the last day. When I reminded him that I don't drink, we got into a biblical discussion. What was Jesus' first miracle? he asked. It was at a wedding, he hinted. I couldn't remember, but Bear informed me that Jesus turned water into wine. I told him wine isn't as strong as vodka (Bear's drink of choice) and besides, if I were with Jesus and He offered me a glass of wine, I'd drink it, no problem. Bear then told me that if the Mormon church ever let up on the no alcohol thing, I should try some kind of drink... the name of which I've already forgotten. Ah well.
But, as I was saying, drinking with SWAT guys or not, SWAT school is going to be a fantastic experience. I got goosebumps of anticipation just reading the course description. Whatever happens, I win.
My interview with Denali was Wednesday. Wednesday night I told the sad story to Bear and Tracey at work. They didn't seem to think it was as bad as I did. They cheered me somewhat by saying that my answers sounded pretty good to them. Bear said there isn't anyone more qualified for the job than I. I think he was just trying to bolster my confidence and make me feel better, but it did work. A little. I have no idea who else was interviewed. Or how many others. There are so many talented Rangers out there. What if some guy from Yellowstone or Glacier applied? They'd never pick a Ranger who's been stuck in an urban park over someone who's been doing real rangering for the last umpteen years.
Despite this, I did get to the interview stage. And today I found out that even with that sad interview, I'm still being considered. I got an email with pictures of the area. The housing (no electricity! No running water, but a shower and laundry a short bike ride away. Yippeee!!!!), the ambulance (it would be my very own!), the patrol truck, the mountains, the dog team, the snowmachines, the patrol planes and helicopter. They have tasers, rifles, and park medics. I could be a park medic!
I also found out today that my SWAT school tuition can be refunded without any penalty up to 30 days before the class. I still have almost two months! That means that if Denali did offer me a job I could go! I didn't sign any contract, but I said I'd work here another year if they spent the money to send me to SWAT school. And I would, dream job in Denali or not.
If Denali doesn't hire me, I'm going to SWAT school! Bear said the best part of SWAT school is going out drinking with the crazy SWAT guys on the last day. When I reminded him that I don't drink, we got into a biblical discussion. What was Jesus' first miracle? he asked. It was at a wedding, he hinted. I couldn't remember, but Bear informed me that Jesus turned water into wine. I told him wine isn't as strong as vodka (Bear's drink of choice) and besides, if I were with Jesus and He offered me a glass of wine, I'd drink it, no problem. Bear then told me that if the Mormon church ever let up on the no alcohol thing, I should try some kind of drink... the name of which I've already forgotten. Ah well.
But, as I was saying, drinking with SWAT guys or not, SWAT school is going to be a fantastic experience. I got goosebumps of anticipation just reading the course description. Whatever happens, I win.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Bored?
This is really fun. Try it.
Answer the questions below.
Type each answer into photobucket.
Take any picture from the first page of results and post (click on the picture and copy the HTML code).
You can't copy the person's answers who posted this before you!
Add your own question at the end.
1. What age will you be at your next birthday?
2. A place you'd like to travel?
3. Your favorite place?
4. Your favorite object?
5. Your favorite food?
6. Your favorite animal?
7. Your favorite color?
8. The town in which you were born?
9. The name of a past pet?
10. A bad habit of yours?
11. Your first job?
12. Favorite song? (I had to get creative for the song title since there were no matching images.
13. Favorite holiday?
14. Favorite sport to watch?
15. Favorite things to do (I picked two, I couldn't decide)?
16. Nickname?
Answer the questions below.
Type each answer into photobucket.
Take any picture from the first page of results and post (click on the picture and copy the HTML code).
You can't copy the person's answers who posted this before you!
Add your own question at the end.
1. What age will you be at your next birthday?
2. A place you'd like to travel?
3. Your favorite place?
4. Your favorite object?
5. Your favorite food?
6. Your favorite animal?
7. Your favorite color?
8. The town in which you were born?
9. The name of a past pet?
10. A bad habit of yours?
11. Your first job?
12. Favorite song? (I had to get creative for the song title since there were no matching images.
13. Favorite holiday?
14. Favorite sport to watch?
15. Favorite things to do (I picked two, I couldn't decide)?
16. Nickname?
Monday, February 18, 2008
Range Day
Today was another day at the range with the SRT team. I love being on the team for a couple reasons, but the biggest one is that I get more training. They're talking about sims (simunitions= bullets that are filled with paint. It's really good training) training when it gets warm this spring. They're also adding four hours at the range in addition to our tactics training (so four more hours a month!).
Today we got to move and shoot, which we hardly ever get to do when the whole staff goes to the range twice a year to qualify. We did transitions from rifles to our pistols. We also shot head targets. Did you know that the state of Massachusetts has laws about the kinds of targets people can shoot? Maybe other states do to; it's not anything I'd ever thought about. In MA regular people can't shoot at human-shaped targets. Pictures of peoples faces would absolutely be out, but even our Trans-tar II targets are illegal for non-LEOs.
And it doesn't even have a face! I saw some state LEO targets. They've got a large rectangle with a smaller one on top. They're even less realistic than the Trans-tars. For those of you who aren't in LE, it's important that targets look realistic. Today I noticed when I was shooting at the pictures of heads, that it's different finding the target based on anatomy than it is sticking my front sight in the middle of a blue or green target. Being able to get a good headshot is important for any number of reasons. Think North Hollywood and suicide bombers.
The training was great. The first thing we did was the 60 round FLETC qualification course. None of us shot all that well, but I did get the highest score. I have to keep practicing though because I shot a lot better at FLETC.
Today we got to move and shoot, which we hardly ever get to do when the whole staff goes to the range twice a year to qualify. We did transitions from rifles to our pistols. We also shot head targets. Did you know that the state of Massachusetts has laws about the kinds of targets people can shoot? Maybe other states do to; it's not anything I'd ever thought about. In MA regular people can't shoot at human-shaped targets. Pictures of peoples faces would absolutely be out, but even our Trans-tar II targets are illegal for non-LEOs.
And it doesn't even have a face! I saw some state LEO targets. They've got a large rectangle with a smaller one on top. They're even less realistic than the Trans-tars. For those of you who aren't in LE, it's important that targets look realistic. Today I noticed when I was shooting at the pictures of heads, that it's different finding the target based on anatomy than it is sticking my front sight in the middle of a blue or green target. Being able to get a good headshot is important for any number of reasons. Think North Hollywood and suicide bombers.
The training was great. The first thing we did was the 60 round FLETC qualification course. None of us shot all that well, but I did get the highest score. I have to keep practicing though because I shot a lot better at FLETC.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Catholic Guilt?
Wait a minute, Liz, you're not Catholic! I know, but "Mormon guilt" isn't such a popular or well known phenomenon.
I was talking to one of my coworkers who explained that he carries off duty (for non LEOs, that means he's carrying a concealed firearm) because of his Catholic guilt. He wouldn't want to be a witness to a massacre and not have the means to fight the armed attacker. If he was unarmed, he'd never get past the guilt.
I feel the same way. The day I'm too lazy to strap on my pistol is the day the maniac runs in the grocery store to start picking people off. There I would be, trained, but unable to shoot back. A sheepdog caught napping when the wolf comes.
Would non-LEOs think I was strange or crazy if they knew I carry to the pet store, the grocery store, the post office, even to church? I carry because of the guilt I would feel if I wasn't armed when I needed to be. Would my fellow Mormons think I'm paranoid? Or have the near constant news stories of mall, church, and school shootings altered public perception?
I was reading on the Enforcer's blog about the warrior/worrier that we become after we sign up as cops. It's not normal, but I can't be any other way now. Because of the guilt.
As an aside, we were also talking about the sexy sausage shirts that have become popular with a couple of the guys at work. They're tight t-shirts that have built in holsters. Very tactical. Everything marketed to law enforcement has to be "tactical." The only problem is that the shirts aren't very flattering if you have a less than perfectly sculpted torso, hence the nickname. Sexy is sarcastic. Sausage is the reality. I haven't gotten one yet and I was complaining that they need to make scoop neck sausage shirts so I can wear them with my blouses and sweaters. The guys agreed. They should come in different colors, like lilac. With the scoop neck and spagetti straps. I then imagined Bear in the feminine version of the sausage shirt and he wondered why I was giggling.
I think the negative health effects of working nights are more than compensated for by the positive health effects of regular giggling.
I was talking to one of my coworkers who explained that he carries off duty (for non LEOs, that means he's carrying a concealed firearm) because of his Catholic guilt. He wouldn't want to be a witness to a massacre and not have the means to fight the armed attacker. If he was unarmed, he'd never get past the guilt.
I feel the same way. The day I'm too lazy to strap on my pistol is the day the maniac runs in the grocery store to start picking people off. There I would be, trained, but unable to shoot back. A sheepdog caught napping when the wolf comes.
Would non-LEOs think I was strange or crazy if they knew I carry to the pet store, the grocery store, the post office, even to church? I carry because of the guilt I would feel if I wasn't armed when I needed to be. Would my fellow Mormons think I'm paranoid? Or have the near constant news stories of mall, church, and school shootings altered public perception?
I was reading on the Enforcer's blog about the warrior/worrier that we become after we sign up as cops. It's not normal, but I can't be any other way now. Because of the guilt.
As an aside, we were also talking about the sexy sausage shirts that have become popular with a couple of the guys at work. They're tight t-shirts that have built in holsters. Very tactical. Everything marketed to law enforcement has to be "tactical." The only problem is that the shirts aren't very flattering if you have a less than perfectly sculpted torso, hence the nickname. Sexy is sarcastic. Sausage is the reality. I haven't gotten one yet and I was complaining that they need to make scoop neck sausage shirts so I can wear them with my blouses and sweaters. The guys agreed. They should come in different colors, like lilac. With the scoop neck and spagetti straps. I then imagined Bear in the feminine version of the sausage shirt and he wondered why I was giggling.
I think the negative health effects of working nights are more than compensated for by the positive health effects of regular giggling.
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