Smart

Something I've been pondering lately is what makes someone smart. I say it lots, that I'm working with some of the smartest people I've ever met before, but what does that really mean? Is it being witty? Well-read? Good data recall? Plain ol' hard work? Lots of technical knowledge? A big vocabulary? The ability to think brand new thoughts? Or put old ideas into a new order?

And I guess this is partly me trying to come to grips with being part of the -82 legacy...I don't think I'm particularly smart. I know I don't mind working hard (though two weeks straight of at least 11-hour days is eroding a bit of my enthusiasm...I have *no idea* how the folks back in Aft Steering or some of the other reviewers do it. They're there when I get to the office a few minutes after 0700, and still there when I leave 11-12 hours later.). I know I can multi-task. I know I can process complexities. I know I communicate well (as long as I can use cuss-words liberally)...which really means I know I listen more than I talk -- though I'm pretty sure some Programs would vehemently disagree about my self-proclaimed lack of verbosity. And I can extemporize with a certain amount of skill, as long as I have a decent sense of whatever subject on which I am pontificating.

But I don't think I'm particularly good at developing new ideas or putting together old ones in new ways. I'm not very good at analysis -- knowing what questions to ask to learn more about something...I don't know what I don't know. I tend to accept things at face value, even when there is an obvious question begging to be asked. I like to simplify things, break them down into little pieces, even when that degrades nuances. And I have my biases...too numerous to mention here; but those small-minded little assumptions that are the foundation upon which I build all my thoughts and perceptions.

So all this has led me to the question of what makes smart? Looking at the other people in the office who definitely personify the smartness of the office, I'm gonna boil smart down to three basic qualities: people skills, technical abilities or knowledge, and common sense. In our office at least, people skills manifest as wit: a sharp running commentary, witty repartee, quick comebacks and hilarious quotes that are logged, voted on and memorialized on members' departing plaques. While I think wit is indicative of the ability to quickly process information, make subtle connections from seemingly disparate bits of data, it also shows a keen ability to read people and know what might tickle their funny bone, or touch their hearts, or fire them up.

MC Hooligan has *mad* people skills -- I don't know which came first, the people skills or the 20-some-odd years as a state trooper in the Northeast. But he has an amazing ability to pick up very subtle cues, understand motivations, sense anomalies, and connect with all kinds of people. We talked about the people skills aspect of smart late last week. Our conclusion was that people skills are grounded in a genuine interest in people, concern for their welfare and desire to make connections and understand the human condition. Without that authentic-ness, a person feels...off in some way. But that genuine-ness can  go a long way towards compensating for social awkwardness (or, in my case, lack of social grace). It was a great discussion; I'll have more excerpts from it a little further along in this post.

Technical abilities and/or knowledge is the book smarts that some people just seem born with. Book smarts can be learned, I think, with enough effort, dedication and time studying, but I think it just comes naturally to some people. While there is a component of data recall to this aspect, what I'm really talking about is the deep internalizing of that information so that it becomes a basic component of how people think.

And common sense is, well, umm, kinda hard to actually pin down. Maybe, an ability to apply the rules of a generally accepted reality to any situation. Or maybe it's a foundational acceptance of the adage, "don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good." Or when something sounds ridiculous, it usually is. I don't know...how do you explain common sense?

So we've got these three components of smart. In all his wisdom, MC Hooligan made this make sense too: the strongest of any shape is a triangle; and the strongest triangle is an equilateral triangle with all sides equal. Our three smart qualities make the triangle, and the smartest people, or maybe the most successful people have each of the strengths in equal, or nearly equal, abundance. I like the simplicity of it.

Catching Up

Here's what's been going on since early March:

-- Sequestration went into effect. There were lots of external Qs (questions) to answer.

-- I finally caved and got my Maryland motorcycle learner's permit on the way to getting a real, legit license. It hurt to give up my Hawaii license, but it was due entirely to my lack of looking at the identification requirements before going to Oahu. `

-- A major workforce management decision memo was signed. Pretty sure that I'll be working on responding to questions about that here within the next few weeks. 

-- Congress passed an FY 2013 appropriation for DHS...not just a CR (Continuing Resolution). There are mechanical differences for how accounts are managed between the two.

-- My cousin, her boyfriend and my *sister* came to visit! Yay!! They had planned separate visits, but ended up here on the same weekend which was awesomely cool to get to hang out with all of them. My sister and I walked miles and miles on the Mall. In a stunning oversight of awareness, we ended up on the Mall the day of the International Kite Festival that was part of the Cherry Blossom Festival. It was crowded, but so cool to see all the kites free and easy in the breeze. We were still too early for the cherry blossoms though.

-- The FY 2014 President's Budget was released. The Qs have been coming fast and furious for the last few days, and will likely continue to do so for the near future.

-- I dropped my lawnmower and weed eater off at the appliance repair place for a pre-summer tune up nearly a month ago. I've stopped by a couple of times now to pick it up. The first time it wasn't ready (they were waiting on carburetor kits); the second time they were closed for a medical emergency. I really hope I can get the tools back soon...the weeds are starting to get outta control.

-- We're working on a  fast-approaching deadline for submission to DHS for FY 2015. I've got a couple of items for which I am responsible. No pressure...we're just talking $50 million to $70 million. No biggie.

-- One of my immediate family members is going through some health issues. It's scary and there's nothing I can do right now to help. There might not be anything I'm ever able to do to help.

-- The first round of departures have started from our office. JZ headed out late last month. He is missed. New folks won't start showing up until mid-June. We have some gaps in the office. We're managing.

-- I got a bunch new gear for The Old Man, getting ready for a road trip to Florida in May. The Old Man has a new windshield, new saddle bags, a new *seat pad!*, and I got a new helmet. And my friend/neighbor, Molly, got me my Hawaii license plates!! Yay...and thank you, thank you, thank you, Mols!!!

-- The personnel ladder chart was finalized for FY 2014 roll-out. It includes a technical footnote required by some assumptions we made about FY 2013 that were proven wrong by the FY 2013 Enacted Appropriation. Apparently, the footnote made things very confusing. Guess what -- the dang thing is confusing to begin with!! The footnote at least points readers in the right direction to be able to figure out what happened. Harumph.

-- I'm trying to kick processed foods and refined sugars. The refined sugars are kicking my ass. Donuts, Easter candy, *jelly beans* (I love jelly beans), Cadbury creme eggs, cookies, brownies, ice cream...so hard to resist. I had one day last week where I didn't eat any refined sugar. Just one day. I'll keep trying.

-- Spring has sprung...finally! I was getting really tired of riding my bicycle in to work with so many layers on I could barely move, and still feel like my lungs were burning from the cold. So very very nice to ride with shorts and a t-shirt on!

Here's what I haven't done: write. Not one word outside of work. I mean, at work, I write every day...long, obnoxiously explanatory emails, talking points, OERs, awards, edits...all kinds of stuff. But that's not for me. Obviously, it's shown in the fact that I haven't posted for six weeks. But it's Very Difficult to write in this forum about what I'm doing now. The pre-decisional side is only one small piece. 

The larger, harder piece is that I don't necessarily always agree with leadership decisions. While I don't have much refined sensitivities about Coast Guard, internal Headquarters politics, I am just barely savvy enough to understand that whining about decisions made by senior leadership will not enhance my career, and depending upon how egregious the whining is, could be detrimental. I like my career. I don't want to end it prematurely in that particular fashion.

Now, on the other hand, there have been a few decisions recently that I think are stupendously inspiring and support whole-heartedly. They are decisions that show vision, and understanding of organizational needs in a changing world. Just the stuff that I think we need much much more of right now. 

One Year

I've been in CG-821 for a year now. Or just over a year, since I've been pondering this post for about a month now. It's interesting for me to compare what I think I know now with what I didn't know when I started.

First of all, the learning curve associated with this job has been astounding. In previous jobs, I was used to the overwhelmed, just keeping my head above water feeling for about the first two months, but then it would gradually ease until about four months into the job, I'd have a handle on it. Even OPS on the WHEC-378 didn't take but about four months to figure out. This job, though -- whew...I'm just now to the point, maybe since about December, where I feel like I have a good enough sense of things to suggest I know what I'm doing. Which is *NOT* to say I know everything I need to know. But I usually know enough to answer the question...though I still say, "I don't know" a *lot!*

Second, there are gawd-damned ZOMBIES!! in this job! I'll work on something, complete it, turn it in, file it away...and it pops up three days, three weeks, three *months* later and I'm trying to kill the damn thing again! Thank heavens for an encrypted hard-drive which stores all my deleted, sent and saved emails. Though I really gotta figure out and fix that warning that pops up about archiving files not completing soon...not all my emails are there, and I can't search them easily because the "archiving is not complete." Archives, encryptions, zombies??? I thought I worked in a dang office!

Third, it's all about the assumptions. I cannot *tell* you how many hours I have wasted chasing numbers for DHS- or administration-required reports. And all because I wasn't smart enough to ask about the beginning assumptions that went into the numbers: Is it FTE or FTP? OE-funded? Or all discretionary appropriations? Does it include Yard and Reimbursable billets? OCO billets? Actual, enacted, President's Budget, or HAC/SAC Marks? But there is very most definitely a terrific sense of accomplishment when I get the numbers to *MATCH!* When my ladder chart matches the waterfall matches the congressional justification -- victory is MINE!!

Fourth, this stuff is complicated. I don't know why it's so complicated. The best answer I've been able to come up with is, it's a bureaucracy -- that's just the way it is. It's especially aggravating when I ask what I think is going to be a simple question, like who owns a billet? and I find out I'm not even asking the right question. I think part of this is just because everything is so interrelated. There are very few cases where there is a single "owner" of a billet. There are stakeholders in billets -- multiple interested parties whose world of work is impacted when that billet is touched -- changed, deleted, upgraded, downgraded, vacated, or filled. But part of the complication, is that we *make* it so complicated. Personnel policies, internal processes, external requirements, statutes, regulations are all constructs we as a society and organization have imposed upon ourselves. Not saying we don't need some of that guidance, but lordy it sure does add extra effort.

Fifth, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN EASY BUTTON!! It is very rare indeed to find a circumstance that the easy solution is the right solution. Because these things are so damn complicated, the easy button invariably ignores a major component of the issue or problem. I was at a meeting discussing a particular initiative quite a few months ago. The program offered up a suggestion, let's eliminate these 17 things. I asked, how many of those things are there in total? Program answered: 17. REALLY?!? *That's* your answer?!? So rather than going through and figuring out what we as an organization actually *need,* we'll just get rid of something because it's a convenient number?!  Not just *NO!,* but **HELL NO!!**

Hmmm...apparently, I'm still fired up about that.

Second and third order effects are important, which also limit the "easy button" answers. I spend a lot of my time thinking about the linkages, the systems that surround issues I'm working on. How one thing affects another affects the whole affects something else...I wish I had a good example that wasn't "pre-decisional" or "budget sensitive" to illustrate. Suffice it to say, the personnel issues we're working with do not exist in a vacuum.

Sixth, having the right people in the room is *imperative.* I really need to understand general detail (gen det -- not GD... though I do use that acronym for it when I'm particularly peeved), which is a personnel management tool that helps ensure military billets stay filled even when individuals are on extended leave, medical holds, at school, etc. But like everything else, it is complicated. So I decided the best way to understand gen det was to get all the smart people who know the different pieces of it in one room (away from Transpoint and Jemal, our two HQ buildings, so that we can think straight) and hash through what we do know, what we don't know and what we really need to know. I scheduled the meeting once, twice, three times...(hopefully it actually happens this Tuesday), but the last time I rescheduled I waffled. One of the key, like key, primary, most important attendees had a family emergency come up and he couldn't be there. I thought about going forward with it, but then realized, it wouldn't do me much good to sit around a room with a bunch of people who, though they might be smart in their own work, didn't have the information I needed and discuss what we thought about something we didn't know much about. I think the same thing goes for having the right people in the room to make decisions.

Seventh, making the sausage, or even being able to watch the sausage being made, sucks. It can be disheartening, disappointing, frustrating, and generally soul-sucking. But somehow, for me it's still better to know which sacrificial lamb's toe-clippings are in the sausage and at least participate by sweeping up the little bits left on the floor than to be force-fed the final product without knowing anything about it. Maybe, just maybe my efforts will help keep the fat, cholesterol and sodium levels more reasonable.

Eighth, I work with the best people in the Coast Guard. As a group, and individually, the folks in CG-82 are wicked smart, incredibly witty, super helpful, and always great to be around. We bitch and whine an awful lot, about how various and sundry things about our jobs are obnoxiously crappy, but it is fantastic to work with and around a bunch of people that just plain *get it.* And I have the best roommate possible anywhere, ever!

This time next year, I'll be working on my departure OER, transferring responsibilities to the next sap...I mean Body Shop Reviewer, planning pre-arrival training and moves. But for now, I think most days I'm still satisfied with what I'm doing...and looking forward to the next lesson.

Glory Days

I got a wild hair on Saturday and started to organize my e-photos. I think the way it really happened was that I went digging through a desk drawer trying to find a electronic thingamabobby cord and got totally fed up with the disaster that was my desk. So, out came all the random cds and cords and thingamabobbies and I spent the morning sorting them. The process was somewhat complicated by the fact that when I cleaned out Mom's house last year, I just dumped all her desk junk drawers straight into mine, thinking, oh, one day I'll get to that.

Saturday was that day, I guess.

But combo that organizing fest with hearing some of the guys at work get ready to transfer back to ships in the next few months, and I got a little nostalgic. I posted plenty of photos from my time on KISKA (and am *truly* appreciative of the crew's collective patience with having their pictures splashed across the web). But I've got lotsa pictures from the other ships I was on also. So here's my little trip down memory lane...oh the glory days -- I am *so* looking forward to Summer '14!

Local grocery, Petropavlask-Kamchotsky, Russia

My first "official" patrol on BOUTWELL was a D17 patrol that included a trip to Petropavlask-Kamchotky, Russia. It was March or April...and *cold!* I remember taking hours to Med-moor (e.g. Mediterranean moor -- backing in with the transom flush to the pier, with both anchors out to keep the bow from swinging; kinda like backing into a parking space), and the vodka, and the empty grocery shelves, and the beautiful furs the fashionista women wore (and they were all fashionistas).

Geting work done despite the weather, Petropavlask-Kamchotsky, Russia

It was my first foreign port call ever (I can't legitimately count Kodiak and Dutch Harbor -- as fascinating as they are -- still US soil). We had to wear SDBs when we went out in town, so we stuck out like sore thumbs. But all the locals just wanted to talk and were very friendly. I had a few words of Russian left over from the two years I took in high school and college, and really just succeeded in confusing the sweet woman who stopped to help give us directions to the local bank so we could change money.

Lenin's statue, Petropavlask-Kamchotsky, Russia

I don't recall how the timeline of that patrol unfolded. But we pulled into Kodiak a coupla times, Dutch Harbor at least once (on a Wednesday, of course...couldn't miss the seafood buffet at the Grand Aleutian). We boarded a bunch of fishing boats. We got a call to assist with a 6'6", 350-pound fisherman who had gone off his meds and was threatening the crew on his boat (I might be combining two or more medevac requests from that patrol, but I remember the helo crews' horrified expressions when it was suggested that they put a mentally unstable giant into their helicopter...I think we sent Doc over to see what the situation was first). And we were called to respond to the tragic loss of the F/V ARCTIC ROSE that sunk quickly in the early morning hours of 2 Apr 2001. All 15 crewmembers onboard were lost. I don't remember how long BOUTWELL searched; all we found was the bag to a survival suit.

And then we got our asses *handed to us* in a spring storm typical of the Bering Sea. I try my best not to exaggerate the conditions that night, but I know we logged 60 knot sustained winds (which means they were actually gusting up to 80 knots -- considered hurricane strength anywhere else) and 45 foot waves. I stood the mid-watch with Bos'n Rick Arsenault. I lasted a couple of hours, standing on the bridge, where the height of eye is approximately 55 feet, and looking *UP* at the crests of some of the waves as we crashed along at three knots, just trying to maintain our heading so we wouldn't turn broadside-to the seas. I was *terrified.* I finally told Rick that I was not getting anything at all out of standing the watch, other than terrorizing the crap out of myself. He was generous enough to let me go below for the remaining hour of my watch, to lie in my rack, wondering if the ship was going to bash itself apart on the water.

Yawn...just another gorgeous u/w sunset in the Eastern Pacific

I've spent some time lately thinking about that night. The storm was worst during the mid-watch and 4-8s. Just by the happenstance of the schedule, Bos'n and OPS (then LCDR Maury McFadden) had those two watches. And thank goodness they did. They were the most experienced shipdrivers we had onboard, other than the CAPT and XO.

One of my greatest fears when I went to be OPS on HAMILTON was spawned from that night on BOUTWELL, knowing that the crew would expect that level of competence from me...and also knowing that I had asked to lay below instead of face the fury of the sea that night. In my defense, I had been on BOUTWELL a sum total of five months, nearly to the day, at that time, and was barely able to find my way from my stateroom to the wardroom without getting lost. I was still in the throes of hating being underway.

Green deck -- HH65 cleared for landing

But this all goes to the discussion of "proficiency" that we've been talking a lot about in the office recently. Am I more proficient today than I was the night of that storm? Heck, yes! Am I fully proficient? No, I don't think I am. I still have lots to learn, more skills to hone (skills that have sadly atrophied over the last two and a half years), fears to overcome and experience to gain. Am I safe to sail? I think I am. I know enough about how the systems work (even if I might be hazy on some of the details -- I still think of the gyro as a magic black box), I have confidence in my crew and my ability to read them, I have a sense of my limitations.

Static refuel -- HH65 on deck

How much proficiency is enough? And what does the right *kind* of proficiency have to do with things? I have flight deck experience, TAO experience and patrol boat experience. CO, XO, OPS. Eastern Pacific counternarcotics experience; Hawaii fisheries and SAR experience; and joint/DOD interoperability experience. I *don't* have 210' experience, or migrant experience, or D7/Caribbean experience...all of which is what I want to gain in my next assignment. Life (and by my logic, proficiency) is a journey, not a final stamp of arrival. IMHO.

Go-fast booty, BOUTWELL/HAMILTON Hitron patrol

I included the picture of the fueling team for the HH65 just so I could tell about the baked potato (the guy in the silver exposure suit holding the fire extinguisher) and the grapes (the fueling team in the purple jerseys). The tie downs (the kids that ran out to strap the helo to the deck before anything else is done) are known as blueberries because they were blue jerseys. I love sailor humor :)


I did three patrols on BOUTWELL: the ALPAT described above, the 9/11 patrol which is a story in and of itself, and a joint patrol with HAMILTON which was the debut of HITRON in the Eastern Pacific.

 It was an exciting patrol, replete with go fasts, gun shoots, contraband watches, port calls, swim calls, fish calls, drills, flight ops -- you know...all the good stuff.

BOUTWELL outboard of HAMILTON, Golfito, Costa Rica

That patrol was late spring, early summer. Tour complete JOs were starting to leave to their next assignments, Ensigns were newly reported. I somehow ended up being the only qualified helicopter control officer (HCO) (or at least the only one who wasn't otherwise tasked as Landing Signal Officer (LSO) or boarding officer (BO)) onboard for at least a good portion of the patrol. The HCO is the liaison between the bridge, led by the Officer of the Deck (OOD) and the flight deck, led by the LSO. I could go look at my old OER to figure out how many flight operations we did that patrol, but I'm not gonna...I just know it was a *lot!* I got really good at saying the take-off and landing spiel. And I was *oh so grateful* when one of the new ensigns got qualified!

I felt a little sorry for the poor town of Golfito. It's a peaceful place, tucked into the eastern side of Golfo Dulce in Costa Rica, and it was overrun by the crews of two 378s for three days. I think we may have drunk a couple of the bars dry that trip.

BOUTWELL and HAMILTON, Isla del Cocos, Costa Rica

At the tail end of the patrol, we somehow (thanks, OPS!! (then LT John Pruitt)) were able to negotiate permission to visit Isla del Coco, a nature preserve governed by Costa Rica, about 300 miles off the coast of the Panamerican isthmus. The small boats ferried crewmembers into shore. We swam with the baby nurse sharks and hiked up into the hills. And then went back to stand the anchor watch so that our shipmates could go ashore for a few hours.




When we got back to Alameda, I was off to my next assignment...XO of WASHINGTON. In Honolulu. But that's a good story for another post. To be continued...

Shipmates at sunset

Lack of Imagination

It happens more frequently than I'd like to admit, but sometimes I suffer from a debilitating lack of imagination. Seems hardly possible, right? Especially since who would have ever dreamed I would end up where I am...in the middle of a successful *military* career. I mean, that takes nearly a suspension in reality to even conceive of. But no, I really do think I have trouble picturing myself in some situations, and last night my own small-mindedness kept me from an incredible opportunity.

There MC Hooligan and I were, at about 1630 hanging in our office, racing each other to wrap up our respective week-ahead emails to the XO when who should walk in but the XO himself. Usually when the XO comes in, there is a brief moment of suspense until we figure out which one of us he is getting ready to task. But last evening he took a different tact and starting off with "We have a unique opportunity for an O3 or an O4." He went rambling on (which is somewhat unusual for an individual who is normally DIRECT and TO THE POINT) about how CG-82, by way of XXXX, came into a pair of tickets to the Inaugural Ball (!!!!!!) for a Reviewer and their guest. It took me another moment or two to realize he wasn't just in the office with idle gossip about these tickets...he was asking if I wanted the tickets.

Upon this realization, the first words that popped out of my mouth were, "Holy f***!" At which point I think he immediately regretted asking me.

I quickly said yes, and went flying off on flights of fancy about the Rocket Scientist coming up for the weekend and going to this spectacularly awesome and historic event in my beautiful ball...go...w...n...oh crap, I probably would have to go in uniform. Which I don't have, never before being in receipt of an invitation to an event which required Dinner Dress Blues. I thought briefly about the possibility of borrowing a set from the one person I reckoned might have them, not initially considering the fact that she is 5'9" and probably two cup sizes bigger than me (there is only so much even a good tailor can do). So I reluctantly turned the tickets down, suggesting to the XO that he should probably look for someone else who was better prepared with a full O4 seabag.

The ironic kick in the head came about 45 minutes later when I found out that one of the other women in the office has a set of DDBs that she said would likely fit me. I went back to the XO to check if the tickets were still available; he had already given them to someone else...who was in the process of finding DDBs because she didn't have any either.

I think I fell victim to the confines of my own self-image. I couldn't think big enough to imagine myself at such a fancy soiree. I get stuck in thinking of myself as a mostly uncouth, socially graceless sailor. I pigeon-hole myself, assume I can't break out of my mold. Which is kinda funnily ironic given how much I tout my ability to face a challenge as one of my defining characteristics.

I remember a little scene from when I was about 8 or 9; I was trying to teach myself how to hock a lougie (is that how it's spelled?). I thought at the time it was one of the coolest things a kid could do. There I was, out in the parking lot of our townhouse complex, trying to spit. I must have just eaten a piece of cherry or cinnamon flavored candy, because my spit was coming out pink. My sister and I were waiting by our car, getting ready to go somewhere with Mom, and Vicki was so thoroughly disgusted with my totally disgusting behavior. She told Mom I was spitting, and I got in trouble. Yes, it was totally gross, but just recently I was out with Vicki somewhere, and hocked a big ol' nasty ball of snot out of my throat, and then apologized sincerely for my abjectly rude action. Vicki said she was a little jealous, she had never learned how to do that, and wasn't it a useful thing to be able to do sometimes. This from the woman who reads Miss Manners (my sincerest apologies again, Sis, for sharing such a base little anecdote).

But that's the paradigm (ugh) I'm comfortable in. I can clean up my act when I have to...which I *certainly* would have done for the Inaugural Ball! but it's not a natural state of being for me. It takes *effort.*

And as I write this, I realize I didn't just suffer from a lack of imagination...I also suffered from a lack of faith...in the universe at large. *So what!* I didn't immediately have the right uniform?!? If I had trusted the universe a little more, what really were the options? The only possible thing that *could* have happened was that I would find all the right bits and pieces to the uniform in time for the ball. With all the women stationed at Headquarters, I am sure someone there, hearing my story, would have lent me what I needed.

Definite *headsmack* moment. Think *BIG!* Dream *BIG!* Don't ever let the little things get in my own way...especially my own small thinking. Lesson learned.

Refocusing

I don't really do New Year's resolutions. They sound like a nice enough idea, but also seem rather arbitrary to me. Or maybe I'm just lazy, and don't want to make any kind of effort to change my behavior. Whatever the reason, I've never wasted much effort on them.

This year isn't really any different. I haven't made any resolutions. I think of them more as...refocusing of efforts and attention -- areas of my life that I think are important enough to spend time and energy thinking about and doing. So here goes:

Where is my money going? When I first though about this one, I kind of framed it as wanting to pay attention to where stuff is made, and stay away as much as possible from cheap crap made in China. The last two purchases I made for the house at the beginning of December last year were a sewing machine and a hairdryer...both made in China. When I bought each, I thought I needed them, and would use them constantly. I've used the hairdryer twice (I’m not very coordinated with it -- The Rocket Scientist tells me I need to practice more), and just got the sewing machine out of the box today. I don't know that I really did need them, and if I did, if I couldn't have taken the time to look around for quality items that support ideals I value.

When I mentioned this "Refocusing" to my good, crazy-high-speed friend (who will likely one day be either Commandant or in Congress -- or both), she asked what I had against buying goods from China -- as a developing economy, they need the economic demand to continue driving their growth and concomitant progress. And maybe it is provincial and protectionist of me, but I want to support *my* country's economic growth and progress. Call me a Tea Party convert (bahahahahahaaa), but I've pretty much bought into the notion that our country's economic metabolism depends on the slow, steady contributions of mom and pop enterprises. And I can chose to spend my money at big box stores where the dimes will get lost in a corporate oubliette, or I can chose to spend my money in places that will provide direct and immediate support to real people. Yes, I *know* that is an extremely simplified and generalized version of reality, but I see this as part of my thought process, starting with "do I really need XXXX?" and moving on to, "what are my options for where to get XXXX?" and then "who benefits from where I spend my money on XXXX?" Etsy.com is my new starting point for pending purchases. We'll see how this works when I'm looking for more than just random wants like purses and jewelry boxes.

I put this process to the test on Wednesday. I needed milk (ok, maybe need was a little bit of a stretch -- but I get really grumpy when I don't have milk for my tea). I drive right by Aldi and Safeway on my way home. Eastern Market (long-standing farmers' market close to Capitol Hill -- yuppy-town galore, but a foodie's dream) and Glut Food Coop (a throw-back to 1973 when it was opened -- hippy-central, but 5 blocks from my house) were also viable options. I wasn't sure Eastern Market was open as late as I needed, and so, with a slight alteration to my normal route, I stopped by Glut and picked up some milk from a local dairy. Yes, more expensive than half-a-gallon from Aldi, but organic and I could picture the farmer who fed the cows the morning they gave the milk. And spending money at Glut ensures that my neighborhood has a natural food store providing good, whole comestibles to a less-well-off part of town.

What are my daily choices about my health? Ugh. I've been on a work-out and healthy-eating hiatus for a coupla weeks now. The holidays, no settled work schedule with lots of time off with family and friends...I've read all the warnings from women's magazines about how to resist weight gain and backsliding during the holidays -- and I ignored them all in the *grandest* style, since about Halloween! Cookies, candy, cupcakes, pork and mashed potatoes, lots of butter, turkey and stuffing, popcorn, sodas, potato chips and *fritos!!* Over the last two weeks, I have abandoned my smoothies, salads, morning oatmeal, bike rides and runs, workouts of any kind, really. And I'm definitely feeling the results. I feel like a slug. I know I'll get back to it, but it's gonna be a hard slog. I might hafta go cold turkey on cutting sugar out.

The most sensible route is to just be more aware of what I do and how I treat myself. Getting back to the three-mornings-a-week, 7.5-miles-each-way bike-ride-to-work will be a big boost in the right direction. I've found that I can easily ride on Monday and Tuesday, but by Wednesday, I've lost interest in getting up so damn early and going out into the frigid cold morning only to get to work and have to do it all over again on the way home. So I drive on Wednesday and Thursday (which works out well for the office's Fun Run usually scheduled for Thursday mornings) and then bike again on Friday, when I can tell myself, it's just one more day before I can sleep in. Yoga on Sunday mornings at Joe's Movement Emporium up the street from Glut.

But it can't just be about the workout. I have to pay attention to what I'm eating too. Fresh fruits and vegetables, whole grains and beans, no processed crap and oooh, eeek, awww, limited cheese and dairy. (Julia Childs' cooking program just came on the tv behind me -- I don't think her style of baking will really help me much). And it will be interesting with how I resolve my first "Refocusing" with this second "Refocusing." They both take time and attention...searching out good food isn't usually fast.

What can I write about? I am not really happy with my lacksadaisical approach to writing, and in particular to this blog. I used to keep a journal, in addition to writing here, but I have also fallen off of that. I have to remember that I get a lot out of writing like this...thinking about issues bigger than just the daily grind, my place in the grander scheme of things, my emotional and spiritual well-being, and sometimes just darn funny things that pop into my little pea-brain. And writing things down helps get them out of my head. I have a really bad habit of allowing the hamsters to race and race and race and race around on their wheel without making any attempt to quiet their frantic but completely unproductive efforts. The process of writing and journaling gives those poor rodents a break.

However, I am not going to make any rash and binding promises about how much I will write. I'll keep my goal of a blog post every week or two, but don't want to feel like I should beat myself up if I go, idk, a month!! or more!!! without blogging. But I darn well better have at least cracked my journal open!

All of these redirections require more time commitments compared to how I spent my time last year. Unfortunately, I can't make more time, so something will have to give. Maybe less time on trashy fiction novels. Maybe less time on bitching about work. Maybe less time on waiting around for stuff to happen. There are a few things that I won't allow to suffer however...time with friends (including the two newest additions to my house -- Ringo and Lucy, brother and sister mono-chromatic kitties from the DC pound), work (sad to say in some ways, but I take pride in doing what I do and doing it well (or so I tell myself) that I'm not willing to half-ass my efforts there), and the house, especially once spring comes and I can get back into the yard and garden.

Happy New Year, all! May your “Refocusings” be long-lived and productive for you this year :)

Baggage

A few months ago, I asked a good friend (we'll call him Coyote, mostly because it will amuse him) what was the difference between lessons learned and baggage. I was going through a bit of a relationship crisis, and feeling the weight of trying to make good choices instead of falling into the same old trap of bad decisions spawned from parts of myself I had yet to fully acknowledge and accept. Coyote responded, baggage weighs you down and lessons learned help you move forward.

And that's why I asked him...because I knew he'd have an excellent answer. Stated so simply, it made some basic sense.

So now I'm in the fits of realizing that I have some baggage left over from KISKA's drydock, and the trials and tribulations of being berthed in Waikiki, a couple of islands away from home, with extremely limited means by which my crew could affordable-y feed themselves, having to commute more than 30 miles each way out to Barbers Point which was an acceptable 45 minutes on the way to the drydock, but could take an exhausting two hours on the way back to the hotel through Waikiki traffic...and on and on and on about all the bad things from that five month period. I'm still mad that our situation was so poorly planned. And a little chagrined that I was so proud of myself for getting some solution (the crew ended up getting the subsistence allowance for about three months-worth of the drydock...and the HQ office responsible for the policy changed the policy specifically to disallow the use of the allowance in that manner in the future), instead of being a squeakier wheel, finding the right advocate and running a full court press for the full five months-worth I thought they deserved.

This past week was hard. I think it was really the first week in the office I carried my expected weight as the Body Shop Reviewer. Crazy complicated issues that if I get them right, the Service chugs along without major disruption; but if I get them wrong, bad, bad things are likelier to happen -- multi-hundred million dollar things or things that cause chaos in the workforce. The reason I say it was really the first week I carried my expected weight is that I knew enough about the issues that I couldn't play the stupid new Girl card and weasel out with a slack-ass half effort.

One of the issues was similar enough to my experience on KISKA that all those old feelings of anger, injustice, lack of a voice came bubbling up to nearly choke the sensibility out of me...or at least squeeze a few tears of frustration out of me (thank goodness I made it to the privacy of a stall in the women's head before they leaked out...I hate crying in front of bosses -- especially when it's the kind from being pissed off that I just can't control) and prod me to call my sister one evening on my way home and spew vitriol and resentment in the form of enough f-bombs to make the attack on Dresden look like a small-town fireworks show.

So it became clear to me I'm carrying some baggage about KISKA's drydock.

The questions I find I must ask myself are how do I set aside the weight of the baggage and open it up so I might find the lessons to be learned within? What are those lessons? The majority of the insights to be gained are likely to be highly personal...how I perceive myself, what I think are my strengths and weaknesses, how I define success and failure, how I want to be perceived by others. Did I use getting the crew monetary compensation for their meals as a substitute to cover for my leadership shortcomings? Or were my motivations more in line with how I originally spun them..."It's my job to make sure they've got what they need to do theirs." Yeah -- don't know I'll be able to come to resolution on that one anytime soon. But at least I've defined the scope of the question.

And as much as I don't like admitting to such pettiness, I find I am not yet willing to let go of my resentment that nearly five months of my time assigned to KISKA was spent in a cold-iron maintenance status with no chance of cruising the great blue sea around the islands under the countless stars, dodging whales, ducking into lees to hide from the incessant trade wind chop, finally sailing into Hilo Bay past Coconut Island to our cozy little finger pier in Radio Bay and tripping merrily home to my Big Island bungalow. After taking difficult assignments (somewhat unwillingly in the case of orders to HAMILTON) and turning them into relative successes, I felt like I worked hard to get it and earned my time on KISKA -- the boat I had dreamed of being assigned to ever since I learned there was a patrol boat on the Big Island, eight years prior.

Did I really make the most of my time onboard? Wring every last bit of enjoyment and satisfaction to be had out of those short fourteen months? Or do I feel like I let some of it slip through my fingers? I will never be in that place, in that time, with those people again. I have some minor regrets about a few of the details, but the truth remains that my time on KISKA was my favorite tour (so far, anyway :) I have high hopes for my next tours afloat). I had an excellent crew, some difficult conditions, leadership challenges to keep me on my toes, and an amazing op area. I did the best I could based on what I knew at the time. I can't go back and do any of it over, so I better make damn sure I get it as close to right as I possibly can the first time.