Two off topics notes first:
1. So much for trying to meet my goal of at least one blog post per week. Will have to keep trying.
2. Frank -- no comments on the title of this post. I'm *serious*! I mean it!!
So there's that saying, can't teach an old dog new tricks. And after the last ten days spent in the Lake Tahoe area trying to learn how to snowboard, I'm on the verge of agreeing. But only on the verge...not totally convinced.
My dad taught me to ski when I was about seven. I'm pretty sure he lived in Massachusetts by then, and my sister and I would go to visit him on holidays and during the summer. That first year we went, my sister was off visiting a friend of hers in the area, so Dad and my brother, Jay, went off to the ski slopes. Jay took off to enjoy himself on the slopes, having been skiing many times before. And Dad patiently spent the time corralling me down the slopes, teaching me to snow-plow and then to turn, and finally to race down the run as fast as humanly possible. Being seven, with the kid-innate lack of fear of hurting myself, I picked it up pretty quickly, though I do remember a couple of fairly spectacular falls.
My sister joined us on the slopes the next year and was *disgusted* with me that I already knew what I was doing, and she was stuck on the bunny slope. She hasn't been back to ski since.
About six years ago, I really came to appreciate the skills my dad had instilled in me at such a young age. I went skiing for the first time in probably more than five years, and it was just like riding a bike...I pretty much remembered what I was doing. I mean, the first few runs down the mountain weren't exactly graceful, but I got to the bottom without severe bodily damage and once the rust was knocked off, really enjoyed myself. I've tried to go skiing at least once a year for the past while.
This year, though, I decided to try snowboarding. And I'm not sure why. My frie-bors (friends + neighbors, remember?), Molly and Billy have gone to Tahoe for the last three years, and over the summer, I kinda invited myself along with them. They snowboard, though, and offered to let me borrow their daughter's gear. It all fit, so I said, sure, why not? I'll try it.
I took a lesson the first day, from a very nice guy named Bill at Alpine Meadow (free lift tickets for active duty military). So glad I did. He set me up with my left foot forward. I took a couple of spills during that two hours, but felt like I was on my way to picking it up okay. Over the course of the next couple of days, I took more than a few spills...some of them so spectacular as to be named "yard sales." Ya know, like where my goggles, gloves, board and anything else that can come flying off, end up displayed across the slope like at a yard sale. Ugh, and don't be fooled...that shit *HURTS!!* I'm still not sitting down on a chair properly.
About day three, after ending up going down the hill right foot forward more often than not, Billy changed the bindings on my board so my right foot was forward. It was a little awkward the first run or two down the hill once he switched it, but it quickly became more comfortable. I took another lesson on day four from Phillip at Mt Rose (who I hope does join the CG when this season is over, because I think he'd make a wonderful addition to *any* crew. Smart, enthusiastic, a great teacher...all the things we need in our ranks.). Again, it was useful and I picked up some good tips from him.
I think a couple of things may have made a difference in my comfort level with this new trick though. First, better conditions on the mountain would have meant easier falls and less ice...both of which completely intimidated me after the first day. Unfortunately, we scheduled our trip during Tahoe's worst snow season, like, maybe *ever!* We were on all man-made snow. It started snowing today...two days after we left. Mr Murphy, sir -- so *NOT* funny!
Second, the bindings should have been moved a bit further apart on my board. Both Bill and Phillip impressed upon me the importance of being low and flexible in the knees to make turns successfully (and without those intensely painful abrupt stops). Phillip pointed out that my feet were pretty close together on my board, which meant that I had to work harder to use the board's flexibility to turn and was less stable than if my feet were further apart. I kinda laughed at this a little, after thinking of how many times I reminded guys during crew law enforcement training (especially handcuffing) to have a deep, wide stance to ensure their stability. My favorite learning technique was to walk up alongside them if they were just bending over (instead of squatting with their knees), and gently shove their hip a little to knock them off balance. Made 'em cuss every time.
Third, crash pads. I can't overemphasize the importance of PPE enough. I was extremely grateful for my helmet and goggles. But I really should have gone the extra step, and gotten the crash pads for my backside. Would have saved a *lot* of pain and whining. Next year.
Which makes me wonder, am I seriously gonna try snowboarding again next year? or am I gonna wimp out and go back to skiing? And why? For godsakes, why? I suck at it, which means that there are a lot of crash landings that really hurt. Laughing at myself when my body doesn't respond like my brain says it should only goes so far to assuage the bruised ass, elbows, knees and yes, face...never mind my ego. So why, on god's green earth, would I try it again?
One friend said it's "bc u r n explorer. duh. u have to keep pushing urself; each day try to improve. hard work n determination. (song lyrics...)" (obviously we were texting). Not sure how true that is.
Maybe it's peer pressure. Snowboarders *look* cool. If I snowboard, that means I'm cool too.
Maybe it's 'cause I'm cheap. Free loaned snowboarding gear (even if I don't know how to use it) is better than rented skis.
Maybe, like most things, it's a combination of all those things. Does it count as a commitment to "lifelong learning?"
By the by, and regardless of all the falls, I had a *great!!* time hanging out with Molly and Billy, and Eddie and Lucas, and Jan, Hana, Avis and Dawn. What an awesome group of people to get to hang out with!
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Monday, January 9, 2012
But I Don't *Wanna* Go
No, I’m not talking about going to the dentist or to school, but yes, I am whining like a five-year-old. I don’t *wanna* leave Hawaii [emphatic foot stomp!]!
Somehow, though, an entire month has flown by, and my departure looms ahead, just tomorrow. I’ve been trying really hard not to think about leaving. The couple times I’ve slipped, I’ve found myself tearing up and can only stop from breaking out in sobs by telling myself that I will NOT ruin what time I have left here being sad about leaving.
I’ve gone away before. This time is different, though. For the first time in the almost ten years that I’ve been on-again, off-again living in Hawaii, I don’t know when I’m coming back. I don’t have any trip scheduled on the horizon, tantalizing me with comforting trade winds and crystal clear water, good friends and a warm welcome home. I know I’ll be back…I just don’t know when, or where I’ll stay.
My house is going up for rent, hopefully to wonderful people who will enjoy the special beauty of this place. But I won’t be able to stay here like I normally would. My gracious neighbors and friends have generously offered the hospitality of their own homes for my future visits, nearly threatening me with bodily harm if I dare to stay in a hotel or vacation rental.
Somehow, though, an entire month has flown by, and my departure looms ahead, just tomorrow. I’ve been trying really hard not to think about leaving. The couple times I’ve slipped, I’ve found myself tearing up and can only stop from breaking out in sobs by telling myself that I will NOT ruin what time I have left here being sad about leaving.
I’ve gone away before. This time is different, though. For the first time in the almost ten years that I’ve been on-again, off-again living in Hawaii, I don’t know when I’m coming back. I don’t have any trip scheduled on the horizon, tantalizing me with comforting trade winds and crystal clear water, good friends and a warm welcome home. I know I’ll be back…I just don’t know when, or where I’ll stay.
My house is going up for rent, hopefully to wonderful people who will enjoy the special beauty of this place. But I won’t be able to stay here like I normally would. My gracious neighbors and friends have generously offered the hospitality of their own homes for my future visits, nearly threatening me with bodily harm if I dare to stay in a hotel or vacation rental.
I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to get stationed back out here. When are the NSCs planned to get homeported in Honolulu? (yes, I know the realistic answer to that...not soon enough) Am I willing to forego an afloat tour just to be stationed back here? (yes, I know the realistic answer to that too...probably not; but maybe, if an afloat career is no longer a viable option, then yes, abso-freakin-lutely!) So I know I'm making my own choices, but knowing that doesn't make the choices any easier.
I think I handled this whole month pretty well though, really through no conscious planning or intuitive understanding of the situation on my part…better to be lucky than good, sometimes. I took my time with packing stuff up, never really stressing or wearing myself out on any one day to get stuff done. Yes, there were a few days where chores delayed my departure for the beach, but it usually rained those afternoons anyway. I could have waited another coupla days to put the big furniture I was leaving behind on Craigslist. But I had no way of knowing that it would only take 15 minutes for people to snap up two couches and two full-sized mattress sets. I should have looked for the title to the car when I first got here, rather than waiting so long that my sister had to spend $45 (!!!) to overnight it to me so I could take it to the DMV to get Mom’s name off to simplify the sale. And the yard free-for-all (instead of a yard sale) was a fabulous way to share memories of Mom with the neighborhood and friends (and get rid of a bunch of *stuff* that was still useful…to someone *else!*).
But on the whole, I had plenty of time to soak my lazy bones in sun-drenched sand and salt water, to meet new friends (even a really great guy who I wish I could have hung out with more…should have called him before Christmas instead of waiting for the day before New Year’s Eve, Silly Girl), to eat wonderful food – omg, the poke at B’s Bar & Grinds…*insane!*, to run and workout on a regular basis, and to share time with friends and neighbors without feeling like I was imposing on them or being left out of any of the fun.
And it’s not like the fun is completely over, either. I’m headed to Lake Tahoe for a week of skiing and snow-boarding (if it every starts to snow there!) with Molly and Billy, frie-bors (friends + neighbors?) from the 'hood. And then to my sister’s for a few days. And then to my Dad’s, meeting my sister there for Dad’s 70th birthday. The party will go on.
But tonight, I’ll go to Haleiwa Joe’s for Aloha Hour, to eat and drink and be merry one last night with the neighbors and friends that I’ve come to love dearly over the past five years before I head to the airport tomorrow. And in the morning, I’ll take the handful of dried leis left by well-loved guests down to Kaiaka Beach Park, and toss them into the ocean. I hope they, each and every one of them, find their return way to shore, so they can guide my path quickly back to this place that feels more like home than anywhere else I’ve been.
I think I handled this whole month pretty well though, really through no conscious planning or intuitive understanding of the situation on my part…better to be lucky than good, sometimes. I took my time with packing stuff up, never really stressing or wearing myself out on any one day to get stuff done. Yes, there were a few days where chores delayed my departure for the beach, but it usually rained those afternoons anyway. I could have waited another coupla days to put the big furniture I was leaving behind on Craigslist. But I had no way of knowing that it would only take 15 minutes for people to snap up two couches and two full-sized mattress sets. I should have looked for the title to the car when I first got here, rather than waiting so long that my sister had to spend $45 (!!!) to overnight it to me so I could take it to the DMV to get Mom’s name off to simplify the sale. And the yard free-for-all (instead of a yard sale) was a fabulous way to share memories of Mom with the neighborhood and friends (and get rid of a bunch of *stuff* that was still useful…to someone *else!*).
But on the whole, I had plenty of time to soak my lazy bones in sun-drenched sand and salt water, to meet new friends (even a really great guy who I wish I could have hung out with more…should have called him before Christmas instead of waiting for the day before New Year’s Eve, Silly Girl), to eat wonderful food – omg, the poke at B’s Bar & Grinds…*insane!*, to run and workout on a regular basis, and to share time with friends and neighbors without feeling like I was imposing on them or being left out of any of the fun.
And it’s not like the fun is completely over, either. I’m headed to Lake Tahoe for a week of skiing and snow-boarding (if it every starts to snow there!) with Molly and Billy, frie-bors (friends + neighbors?) from the 'hood. And then to my sister’s for a few days. And then to my Dad’s, meeting my sister there for Dad’s 70th birthday. The party will go on.
But tonight, I’ll go to Haleiwa Joe’s for Aloha Hour, to eat and drink and be merry one last night with the neighbors and friends that I’ve come to love dearly over the past five years before I head to the airport tomorrow. And in the morning, I’ll take the handful of dried leis left by well-loved guests down to Kaiaka Beach Park, and toss them into the ocean. I hope they, each and every one of them, find their return way to shore, so they can guide my path quickly back to this place that feels more like home than anywhere else I’ve been.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Happy New Year, version 2012
Well, another year down and gone.
There was a block party on the street for New Year's Eve. Uncle Francis, at the end of our street, and Uncle Jack conspired to put a pig in the imu in Francis' yard. They enlisted the help of the neighborhood boys and got the fire going early on Saturday morning. I wasn't awake for that part, so I didn't get any pictures. But I made sure I was on hand for when the pigs came out of the ground.
Off came the coverings first. Then the banana leaves. Then the boys hoisted the pig in its chicken wire cage out onto a near-by table. It was still wrapped with banana and ti leaves, with some hot rocks in the belly cavity.
Ed and Jason and a one-handed Billy (he's got his wrist in a cast) helped with unearthing and prepping the goods. They slid the pig from the chicken wire mesh into a big metal tray. Francis' son added some salt, and then they pulled out all the bones, mostly by grabbing a bone in each hand and digging through the meat to free the other bones.
The meat all went into a new galvanized trash can and then up to Jack's lanai for the meal. Ka'amo'oloa pot lucks are amazing feasts! We have some great cooks on the block and half the fun (ok, well maybe a quarter of the fun...'cause there's *lots* of fun at these things) is finding out who brought what dish. Needless to say, I ate too much. I don't remember what everybody brought, but here are a few highlights:
Molly made an amazing Thai hot sauce for the pork. I think it had cilantro, chilis, garlic, fish sauce, lime, and maybe something else. But it was *hot* and so tasty!
Laura made scalloped potatoes, Gretchen brought a yummy salad. There were pasta dishes, and soba noodles, mashed potatoes, pies, cookies, chips and so many other goodies.
Ed's sister Jen made fresh Fijian awa. While awa is not the best tasting beverage, it's wonderfully mellow, and I enjoyed a few cups of it.
I made Estate Bread Pudding. Ok, really, I just took all the stuff from the fridge and the freezer that I didn't know what to do with, and stirred it all up. Raisins soaked in rum and a little triple sec, macadamia nuts, pecans, a few cashews, hotdog and hamburger buns left over from Mom's memorial bbq, a airplane size whiskey...all soaked in milk, eggs and butter. I used up so many odds and ends. And the best part was that the end product was even edible!
The gathering wasn't just about the food though. Liam drew out a handball court on the street and the kids (mostly the grown-up kids!) played a few sets of doubles games. Then Jason and Liam went head-to-head in a death match. I don't remember who won :)
After the food was all eaten, or at least appetites were somewhat satiated, Laura busted out a case of poprocks. She gave out individual boxes to all the kids and they spent the next 15 minutes slamming the little balls of paper to the ground. It made a wonderful racket. And then the kids spent the next half hour wandering around, looking for the stray rocks that hadn't popped on the first round.
There were bike races, with Molly on a mini kid's bike, and Punky on a grown up bike; dance practice for the kids; and a continuous display of fireworks from the surrounding neighborhoods.
The awa took its toll on me, though, and I headed home (pathetically) early. That doesn't mean I got to sleep though...those neighborhood fireworks were loud enough that I knew almost to the second when the clock struck midnight. I opened up the bottom window above my bed, and was able to look out and see a pretty impressive show of starbursts and colorful rockets.
I figured on a quiet New Year's Day and went for an early run. Then about mid-day a friend texted me to see if I wanted to go out on his boat with him. My response: "A boat ride?!? What kind of sailor could I call myself if I turned down an offer like that?"
I was a little surprised at how excited I was at the prospect of getting out on the water. I mean, I do this for a living, right? What's so special about going for a boat ride? But, BUT, I haven't been on a boat for more than a year and a half, and I guess the separation was more deeply felt than I realized. I was out of the house, headed for Hawaii Kai within about ten minutes.
Scott has a 20 foot, aluminum hulled boat pulled up by his condo in Hawaii Kai. We got the cooler in the boat and headed out. It was a beautiful day, kona winds, not much of a swell. I'd never spent much time in that area of the island and wonder why now, because it is so pretty.
We went out around China Walls and it got a little choppy. I brought a bag of pretzels with me, ya know, just in case I started feeling seasick. Scott kept asking me if I was feeling okay. I was feeling *great*! There was just enough of a chop to be a little bumpy and throw a little spray. We saw a couple of whales and a bunch of dolphins. When we headed back to calmer waters, I jumped it to look around at the coral and reef. It was an unexpected and delightful surprise to get to spend my New Year's Day out on the water.
So here's to a brand new year. May it bring you fullness, happiness and all the fun you can stand. If it keeps going like it started, I think it's going to be a fantastic ride!
There was a block party on the street for New Year's Eve. Uncle Francis, at the end of our street, and Uncle Jack conspired to put a pig in the imu in Francis' yard. They enlisted the help of the neighborhood boys and got the fire going early on Saturday morning. I wasn't awake for that part, so I didn't get any pictures. But I made sure I was on hand for when the pigs came out of the ground.
 |
| Uncovering the pit |
Off came the coverings first. Then the banana leaves. Then the boys hoisted the pig in its chicken wire cage out onto a near-by table. It was still wrapped with banana and ti leaves, with some hot rocks in the belly cavity.
Ed and Jason and a one-handed Billy (he's got his wrist in a cast) helped with unearthing and prepping the goods. They slid the pig from the chicken wire mesh into a big metal tray. Francis' son added some salt, and then they pulled out all the bones, mostly by grabbing a bone in each hand and digging through the meat to free the other bones.
The meat all went into a new galvanized trash can and then up to Jack's lanai for the meal. Ka'amo'oloa pot lucks are amazing feasts! We have some great cooks on the block and half the fun (ok, well maybe a quarter of the fun...'cause there's *lots* of fun at these things) is finding out who brought what dish. Needless to say, I ate too much. I don't remember what everybody brought, but here are a few highlights:Molly made an amazing Thai hot sauce for the pork. I think it had cilantro, chilis, garlic, fish sauce, lime, and maybe something else. But it was *hot* and so tasty!
 |
| Getting to the good stuff |
Ed's sister Jen made fresh Fijian awa. While awa is not the best tasting beverage, it's wonderfully mellow, and I enjoyed a few cups of it.
 |
| Dinner! |
The gathering wasn't just about the food though. Liam drew out a handball court on the street and the kids (mostly the grown-up kids!) played a few sets of doubles games. Then Jason and Liam went head-to-head in a death match. I don't remember who won :)
 |
| Shutting down the street for a game of handball |
There were bike races, with Molly on a mini kid's bike, and Punky on a grown up bike; dance practice for the kids; and a continuous display of fireworks from the surrounding neighborhoods.
 |
| Uncle Jack and Uncle Francis -- masterminds of fun |
 |
| The feasting tables - Jay, his son, and Molly |
 |
| Auntie Tonya and Uncle Francis...love Francis' hat!! |
Scott has a 20 foot, aluminum hulled boat pulled up by his condo in Hawaii Kai. We got the cooler in the boat and headed out. It was a beautiful day, kona winds, not much of a swell. I'd never spent much time in that area of the island and wonder why now, because it is so pretty.
We went out around China Walls and it got a little choppy. I brought a bag of pretzels with me, ya know, just in case I started feeling seasick. Scott kept asking me if I was feeling okay. I was feeling *great*! There was just enough of a chop to be a little bumpy and throw a little spray. We saw a couple of whales and a bunch of dolphins. When we headed back to calmer waters, I jumped it to look around at the coral and reef. It was an unexpected and delightful surprise to get to spend my New Year's Day out on the water.
So here's to a brand new year. May it bring you fullness, happiness and all the fun you can stand. If it keeps going like it started, I think it's going to be a fantastic ride!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
On the Appearance of Being Bah-Humbug-ish
I swear it's not me being a big ol' bag of bah-humbug this year. I've never been particularly good about Christmas shopping, always delaying until the last minute, and then floundering with finding good gifts for friends and family. I've had a few good moments of inspiration, when I was able to come up with blindingly fantastic gifts (or at least, I thought they were) that everyone seemed to enjoy. A lot of them had to do with being poor. One year, when I lived on a farm, I made gift bags of goodies from stuff I had grown in the garden...ropes of dried peppers, homemade relish and jam, canned strawberries and syrup. I made rag rugs one year, from the drapes that used to hang in my paternal grandparents' home.
And one year, I came up with the "Treasury of Thoughts." It was sometime in the late 1990's and I found a thrift-store glass dish with four partitioned sections. I picked up some little natural trinkets (seed pods, cool pebbles, sea shells) and placed them in each of the four sections. The accompanying card explained the idea:
Then there were the years, though, that I just flopped. So sorry, family, for those ridiculous salt cooking blocks a coupla years ago. I don't think anyone has used them yet. Or the fugly swirly pink pastel pottery bowl that I found tucked away in my mom's cupboard. I think the pattern of giving useless crap started when I was very young. For probably the last ten years of my mom's parents' life, I gave my grandmother pretty soaps. They piled up in a basket on the bookshelf in her nursing home room, never used, gathering dust and diffusing their floral scents heavily into the air. But I had to give them *something.* Or so I thought.
This year in particular though, I'm just tired of stuff. I don't want to give people crap. I think it has a lot to do with cleaning out my mom's house and getting it ready to rent. I sent my sister a frantic email earlier in the week. "Can we set up a time to call, and go through stuff? I don't know the provenance of a lot of this stuff and I feel like I'm gonna pitch out the family heirlooms if I try to do it by myself. I found some t-shirts that I made at the Early Learning Center [where I went to *pre-school!!*] (hideous, but just the kind of stuff mom would keep). And some beautiful aprons that look handmade. Sorry I've got such a horrible memory...wish I could do this on my own..." She responded sensibly and with just the kind of practical advice I needed to move past feeling overwhelmed.
Part of my frustration is that Mom had some lovely stuff that meant a lot to her. But I've already got a house full of stuff. My sister already has a house full of stuff. We already decided which pieces of furniture are going to whom. And luckily, I have the space to store stuff at my house in Maryland that does not have an immediate destination. But the other stuff...what to do with the blankets stored in the cedar-lined blanket chest that I remember piled on the bed as a kid? or the pots and pans Mom cooked with for the last 50 years? or the art that she had hanging on the wall from when I was eight, and her granddaughter was four? or that damned fugly pink swirly pastel pottery dish (actually, that one's easy...it's going to the thrift store! But you get the idea)?
Maybe cleaning out the house at Christmas-time wasn't the best idea. I kinda feel like I'm using it as an excuse for being too lazy to give any Christmas gifts this year. The reality is, though, that I'm over *stuff* for the sake of *stuff.* If I find myself inspired by something I see for someone, or have a great idea for making something, or a gift certificate that won't languish unused in the back of someone's junk drawer, I will GLADLY bestow presents on my friends and family. You may find yourself getting your Christmas present in August, though, because when I find something I think you'll like, I don't want to *wait* to give it to you...where's the fun in that?!
Unfortunately this year, I'm just not feeling inspired. My one inspiration is to sponsor any family (Amy, that means you and Ally, too) member that wants to join the Gravy, Wine & Steve team for the Greensboro Rugged Maniac race. It's sometime in April this year. Uncle Heathen and Aunt JB, you're getting race slots whether you want them or not...you're the backbone of the team. Cameron, are you in? Jay, Alex? Does it fit with your schedule?
See, I'd *WAY* rather give stuff like this!
And one year, I came up with the "Treasury of Thoughts." It was sometime in the late 1990's and I found a thrift-store glass dish with four partitioned sections. I picked up some little natural trinkets (seed pods, cool pebbles, sea shells) and placed them in each of the four sections. The accompanying card explained the idea:
"I've given you a Treasury of Thought this year. Each item in the dish represents an individual thought or action. The start-up items in the dish now are labelled as some things I think are good thoughts, actions and/or memories.
My idea for the Treasury of Thoughts is that, as you go through the day, when you have a good thought or do something you're proud of (but that isn't great and grand enough to tell the world about) you can move a "thought" from one compartment to another to personally commemorate that good thing.
This shouldn't be a static collection of "thoughts" though. You can pick up your own things to put in it, or ask friends to collect small things for you throughout their travels.
There are a few guidelines for the Treasury:
1. No "thoughts" can be purchased ones; they all need to be found, free.
2. Don't keep track of what thought you put in what compartment, or in moving particular ones to particular places.
3. Put it somewhere you'll see it at least once a day (preferably more), but that's out of the way of the four-footed furry feline.
I hope all this isn't too goofy, and I wish you lots of prosperity in your Treasury."It was definitely cheesy, but it was cheap and thoughtful, and my mom kept hers for the rest of her life. Today, I think the best thing about it is that I can cheerfully drop all the thought trinkets in the yard, put the dish in the thrift store pile and compost the card...because the Treasury already served its purpose.
Then there were the years, though, that I just flopped. So sorry, family, for those ridiculous salt cooking blocks a coupla years ago. I don't think anyone has used them yet. Or the fugly swirly pink pastel pottery bowl that I found tucked away in my mom's cupboard. I think the pattern of giving useless crap started when I was very young. For probably the last ten years of my mom's parents' life, I gave my grandmother pretty soaps. They piled up in a basket on the bookshelf in her nursing home room, never used, gathering dust and diffusing their floral scents heavily into the air. But I had to give them *something.* Or so I thought.
This year in particular though, I'm just tired of stuff. I don't want to give people crap. I think it has a lot to do with cleaning out my mom's house and getting it ready to rent. I sent my sister a frantic email earlier in the week. "Can we set up a time to call, and go through stuff? I don't know the provenance of a lot of this stuff and I feel like I'm gonna pitch out the family heirlooms if I try to do it by myself. I found some t-shirts that I made at the Early Learning Center [where I went to *pre-school!!*] (hideous, but just the kind of stuff mom would keep). And some beautiful aprons that look handmade. Sorry I've got such a horrible memory...wish I could do this on my own..." She responded sensibly and with just the kind of practical advice I needed to move past feeling overwhelmed.
Part of my frustration is that Mom had some lovely stuff that meant a lot to her. But I've already got a house full of stuff. My sister already has a house full of stuff. We already decided which pieces of furniture are going to whom. And luckily, I have the space to store stuff at my house in Maryland that does not have an immediate destination. But the other stuff...what to do with the blankets stored in the cedar-lined blanket chest that I remember piled on the bed as a kid? or the pots and pans Mom cooked with for the last 50 years? or the art that she had hanging on the wall from when I was eight, and her granddaughter was four? or that damned fugly pink swirly pastel pottery dish (actually, that one's easy...it's going to the thrift store! But you get the idea)?
Maybe cleaning out the house at Christmas-time wasn't the best idea. I kinda feel like I'm using it as an excuse for being too lazy to give any Christmas gifts this year. The reality is, though, that I'm over *stuff* for the sake of *stuff.* If I find myself inspired by something I see for someone, or have a great idea for making something, or a gift certificate that won't languish unused in the back of someone's junk drawer, I will GLADLY bestow presents on my friends and family. You may find yourself getting your Christmas present in August, though, because when I find something I think you'll like, I don't want to *wait* to give it to you...where's the fun in that?!
Unfortunately this year, I'm just not feeling inspired. My one inspiration is to sponsor any family (Amy, that means you and Ally, too) member that wants to join the Gravy, Wine & Steve team for the Greensboro Rugged Maniac race. It's sometime in April this year. Uncle Heathen and Aunt JB, you're getting race slots whether you want them or not...you're the backbone of the team. Cameron, are you in? Jay, Alex? Does it fit with your schedule?
See, I'd *WAY* rather give stuff like this!
Saturday, December 17, 2011
A Molehill of Meant-Tos
I meant to write a post long before now, maybe one about my family extravaganza Thanksgiving weekend.
I meant to post on Fleet Feet Roanoke's Facebook page about how awesome my new running shoes and pants were to wear during the Hot Chocolate 15k race. My cousins, Robin and Jane, and Robin's husband Blaine were so helpful!
I meant to get more done around the house before I left for nearly six weeks.
I meant to coordinate the work that was done better, so that I didn't have the snafus that happened. Like not being able to install the vapor barrier in the crawl space because it was too wet, and having to reschedule the tilers because the other renovators weren't done in the kitchen yet.
I meant to make some more revisions to my group's Negotiating Conflict workbook before turning it in.
I meant to finish reading Don Kettl's book, The Next Government of the United States, before the last day of class.
I meant to run more than I did...but found myself profoundly lacking in motivation when the temperature dropped below 50 degrees.
I meant to do some amount of Christmas shopping.
I even meant to make some preparations for coming out to Hawaii, like calling movers for quotes and making an appointment with a property manager.
But none of that happened. And the world didn't come to an end. I did manage to get all my papers done, projects turned in and the house cleaned before I left. Some days that's enough.
I meant to post on Fleet Feet Roanoke's Facebook page about how awesome my new running shoes and pants were to wear during the Hot Chocolate 15k race. My cousins, Robin and Jane, and Robin's husband Blaine were so helpful!
I meant to get more done around the house before I left for nearly six weeks.
I meant to coordinate the work that was done better, so that I didn't have the snafus that happened. Like not being able to install the vapor barrier in the crawl space because it was too wet, and having to reschedule the tilers because the other renovators weren't done in the kitchen yet.
I meant to make some more revisions to my group's Negotiating Conflict workbook before turning it in.
I meant to finish reading Don Kettl's book, The Next Government of the United States, before the last day of class.
I meant to run more than I did...but found myself profoundly lacking in motivation when the temperature dropped below 50 degrees.
I meant to do some amount of Christmas shopping.
I even meant to make some preparations for coming out to Hawaii, like calling movers for quotes and making an appointment with a property manager.
But none of that happened. And the world didn't come to an end. I did manage to get all my papers done, projects turned in and the house cleaned before I left. Some days that's enough.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Program Reviewer Philosophy
I posted my Command Philosophy a while back. I wrote the first draft of that philosophy almost ten years ago, when I was in Prospective Commanding Officer / Executive Officer (PCO/PXO) School before heading to be XO of WASHINGTON (the school requires both PCOs and PXOs to write one). It got dusted off and updated when I went to MAUI, and again before KISKA. But really those were just refinements, changes to reflect the different operating areas. It gives me some sense of peace that the underlying ideas didn't change...like maybe I really *do* have a coherent philosophy, or set of core sensibilities that help guide me through all types of situations.
Now I'm going into a job for which I feel very ill-prepared, a little overwhelmed and a lot nervous. It's been since I first reported to BOUTWELL that I was facing a new set of responsibilities so far outside of my comfort zone. I feel the need to consider a set of principles, maybe rules of engagement for being a Program Reviewer. Since I'm familiar with the Command Philosophy concept, I'm going to call it my Program Reviewer Philosophy. As I first started thinking about this idea, it felt awkward, like I should have some experience in the job before having the hubris to assume that I knew what I was doing. Then I remembered that, as I wrote my initial Command Philosophy, I didn't know what I was doing then either...I had never been an XO, I just had a general sense of what I was getting myself into, and I wrote it kinda blindly. It worked out okay then.
A Command Philosophy is typically published to the entire crew, posted in main pass, and discussed with officers, chiefs and Department Heads. I've even had supervisors ask me for a copy so they know more about where I'm coming from with leadership decisions. But as of right now, I'm not really sure how broadly I'll share this once I get to the office. From my understanding, there are three general groups of people I'll be working with: my supervisors, my peers and my Program peeps (is that too impertinent?). I guess it depends on my reasons for developing it in the first place. I see this as something that I'll hang prominently on the bulkhead in my cubicle, so that as I sit in front of my computer screen, my eyes will not fail to miss it, and I am constantly reminded of why this is important to me, what my priorities should be and how I should conduct myself even when the pressure is on high. A self-accountability tool, if you will.
My Philosophy
Now I'm going into a job for which I feel very ill-prepared, a little overwhelmed and a lot nervous. It's been since I first reported to BOUTWELL that I was facing a new set of responsibilities so far outside of my comfort zone. I feel the need to consider a set of principles, maybe rules of engagement for being a Program Reviewer. Since I'm familiar with the Command Philosophy concept, I'm going to call it my Program Reviewer Philosophy. As I first started thinking about this idea, it felt awkward, like I should have some experience in the job before having the hubris to assume that I knew what I was doing. Then I remembered that, as I wrote my initial Command Philosophy, I didn't know what I was doing then either...I had never been an XO, I just had a general sense of what I was getting myself into, and I wrote it kinda blindly. It worked out okay then.
A Command Philosophy is typically published to the entire crew, posted in main pass, and discussed with officers, chiefs and Department Heads. I've even had supervisors ask me for a copy so they know more about where I'm coming from with leadership decisions. But as of right now, I'm not really sure how broadly I'll share this once I get to the office. From my understanding, there are three general groups of people I'll be working with: my supervisors, my peers and my Program peeps (is that too impertinent?). I guess it depends on my reasons for developing it in the first place. I see this as something that I'll hang prominently on the bulkhead in my cubicle, so that as I sit in front of my computer screen, my eyes will not fail to miss it, and I am constantly reminded of why this is important to me, what my priorities should be and how I should conduct myself even when the pressure is on high. A self-accountability tool, if you will.
My Philosophy
…is that the Coast Guard as an institution is important to me. I joined the Coast Guard to perform great and worthy, heroic and patriotic duties, for the sea stories I get to tell my family and friends, and to do things that not many other people get to do. Those experiences, the people I've worked beside, and the opportunities yet to present themselves make the Coast Guard an organization that I want to fight for.
…is that a job worth doing is worth doing to the best of my ability. At the end of my tour, I intend to look back and be able to honestly tell myself that I faced every task and challenge to the best of my ability. This is the only way the sacrifices I have made will have been worthwhile.
My Guiding Principles
…is that a job worth doing is worth doing to the best of my ability. At the end of my tour, I intend to look back and be able to honestly tell myself that I faced every task and challenge to the best of my ability. This is the only way the sacrifices I have made will have been worthwhile.
My Guiding Principles
- One Team, One Fight: We are all on the same side, even when individual programs are facing budget cuts and high priorities conflict. A deep and abiding respect for all my shipmates will remind me to look beyond any moments of contention and focus on the larger goal of taking care of the Coast Guard.
- Innovative Solutions and Systems Thinking: We function in an increasingly complex and networked world. "That's the way we've always done it" begs for a closer look. A passion for understanding expanded scopes of influence and underlying dynamic processes will allow for development of better, more creative options that offer effective long-term solutions instead of unconsidered tinkerings.
- Checking the Unengaged Side of the Ship: Just as the XO stands on the unengaged bridge-wing to check for any unanticipated hazards, a constant awareness of the bigger picture into which my small portion fits is necessary to ensure the overall positive contribution of what I am doing. Thorough analysis, based on sound data and process-based logic, is a critical risk mitigation strategy that will enable solid recommendations to percolate through the noise.
- Communication: I must be able to respect my shipmates enough to LISTEN to them and take the time to understand what they are saying to me, rather than hearing what I think they should be telling me. I must also be able to clearly and concisely present my own well-articulated arguments to reduce confusion and not waste anybody's time. Success depends on my ability to take in and disseminate information.
- Acceptance of Risk: Times are changing too fast and too dramatically to allow process calcification to paralyze our ability to respond. New ways of doing things will not always work and sometimes my suggestions will fail, but I must have the courage to confidently promote innovation in pursuit of improvement.
- Acceptance of Consequences: When my ideas and actions do not stand up to the high standard of effective implementation, I must have enough personal resilience to withstand the fall-out. I protect myself against any cataclysmic negativity by relying on my Guiding Principles.
- Am I focusing my listening on the intended message? Am I saying what I mean to say, as concisely and clearly as possible?
- What impact does this option or decision have on:
- Crews in the field? Support staff manning the Help Desk?
- Organizational ability to execute the mission?
- Long-term asset health and resource availability?
- Where is my ego in this?
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Orders....Or, The Next Challenge
This transfer season has been more tumultuous than any other I've been through. The only other one that might be even somewhat comparable was when I was leaving HAMILTON. I had successfully screened for command, and asked for nuthin but 110s. I was cocky enough to think that it was just a matter of which one I would get.
It was about a week or ten days before Christmas. Suppo and I had left the boat right when liberty was piped to go shopping for a Christmas wine and cheese party I was hosting. We stopped by the L&L Hawaiian Drive-In just outside the 32nd St Gate of NAVSTA San Diego to get some lunch to sustain us. I ordered the kalbi rib lunch plate (with rice and mac salad). I had grease and teriyaki sauce all over my face and hands when my phone rang. It was a 202 area code...during transfer season, that only means one thing--the detailer.
Breathe, Charlotte, remember to BREATHE.
I (somewhat) calmly wiped my hands so I could answer the phone, chatted with the Assignment Officer/detailer (AO) for a few minutes, long enough for him to tell me I was going to MAUI. I had enough wits remaining about me to thank him for the call. I hung up. And then almost hyperventilated. I don't think I stopped saying omg for about two days. Suppo was very patient with me that afternoon.
This year my e-resume was due mid-August, I think, because I was putting in for a Special Assignment, as a Program Reviewer at CG-821. I duly submitted my wish-list, and then really didn't think much more about it. I knew I was going somewhere at HQ, so why fret about the details (anybody that knows me, knows that is a *flat-out* lie...of course I worried about it!!). All there was to do was wait.
Then the AO called me the first time. I spent a couple of days shaking my head in wonderment that a) he offered the opportunity and b) I turned it down.
Then he called back about a week later (at this point, I was starting to recognize his phone number on caller ID...kinda a weird feeling). He asked me if I was interested in putting in for a high-profile Aide job. Ok, so when the AO calls you *TWICE* to push special assignments, you don't say "no" a second time. I said yes, and started a crazy roller-coaster ride that ended this week with PCS orders for my payback tour.
As the AO explained the process to me, my file would be forwarded to the appropriate office and they would be in touch about an interview if they were interested. He made it sound like the turn-around time was going to be pretty fast. Somehow, I think our definitions of "pretty fast" were slightly divergent. To me, "pretty fast" should mean, I don't know, maybe two or three days. So four days went by, then a week went by, and I still hadn't heard anything. I started telling myself that the office wasn't interested in me, my record wasn't good enough, I should have known better than to expect an interview, the whole thing was so far-fetched anyway. Sadly, I let myself get pretty down about it.
In the interim, the Deputy at CG-82 contacted me, requesting I call him for a phone interview. I phoned him back the next day, and we chatted for about 25 minutes. He asked a little about me, but also spent plenty of time making sure I knew what the Program Reviewer job was all about. He was very forthright about the pressures of the job, lots of responsibility and long hours. He gave me the names of a couple of people currently in the office, and encouraged me to talk with them about what they do.
But then, a couple of Tuesdays ago, I got an email. The subject line read: "Interview for ______ Aide." The first line: "Congratulations..." I called my sister. I called my friend who had been an Aide. I think I might have even shouted it from the rooftops. I could barely contain my excitement.
I actually prepped for this interview. I talked to my friend to get her perspective on being an Aide, about what kinds of questions they might ask, about what kinds of answers might be appropriate. I really appreciate her patience with my ignorance and naivete...I'm not sure it would have occurred to me that my involvement in UCMJ proceedings weren't appropriate and contributory topics of conversation for an interview. And she was honest enough to advise me that I needed to be upfront with the interviewers about the tattoos...an Aide's job is to make sure there are no surprises, so showing up the first day of a high-visibility job with a full sleeve tattoo the bosses didn't know about kinda sets a Girl up for failure. With that in mind, I went into the interview with a somewhat fatalistic attitude of presenting my best effort, to hell with the results.
The interview was last Tuesday. I was nervous! I arranged to use a landline at the School of Public Policy so that I wouldn't have to worry about the call being dropped by my cell carrier. I dressed professionally to give myself some confidence and remind my self to maintain my professional persona (no cussing allowed!). I wrote out key points to questions I thought they might ask so I wouldn't stumble (as much) over my answers. And I wondered how I went from not even knowing I wanted this job to it really, really mattering to me.
The interview was scheduled for 1600. About 20 minutes beforehand, the current Aide called me to tell me they were running behind, some things had come up; would I be able to move the call to 1700? Umm, of course, no problem. And then I (tried to) read some of the articles assigned for class the next day. It was a little anti-climatic. But 1700 finally ticked around on the clock, and I made the call.
I thought the interview went very well. The interview panel asked me some of the questions I thought they might, but then come up with a few others that I wasn't expecting. I was able to put together cogent responses to all of them. One made me nearly choke up: the CAPT asked what my crew would have said my Command Philosophy was. I told them about the BM2 that, as he left MAUI, told me he really appreciated how I stuck to my Philosophy, relating events back and referring to it on a regular basis. Made me miss my crews! And then they asked what was the one single scariest moment I had faced underway--that would have been playing chicken with a 650-foot container ship, speeding 18 knots straight at the oil platforms, and crossing his bow at about 400 yards to try to turn him away from the security zone. The crew responded so fantastically to that situation , and were totally ready to react to the threat if had fully manifested.
At the end of the interview, the panel told me that I should hear something by the end of the next week. Ugh!! I HATE waiting.
Turns out I didn't have to wait nearly that long. When I got home from class the next day, I had an email from the Deputy at CG-82 asking me to call him. I called him first thing the next morning; he told me I was on the short list for Program Reviewer but he wanted to check with me to see if I was still interested and make sure I had the opportunity to talk with someone in the job. We made arrangements for me to visit the office the next day (I was headed to HQ for something else already).
I'm glad I went to visit CG-82. I met both the Deputy and the CAPT. The Deputy talked about how much responsibility the Program Reviewer had, both in terms of the budget and some aspects of policy for their programs. Millions of dollars, the last check to make sure messages are consistent, briefing ADMs going to testify before Congress...very high-powered stuff. Yup, it kinda intimidated me, and I told him that. He looked at me a little quizzically, and asked, weren't you CO of a ship? Yeah, but somehow it just seems different. The consequences of mistakes just seem so much more daunting. But as those words were coming out of my mouth, I realized just how inconsistent they were. As CO, peoples' *lives* are in your hands, millions of dollars of assets and equipment are at stake. What's the difference between the levels of responsibilities again? I guess after two years as CO, that mantle of responsibility finally settled more comfortably on my shoulders.
Later that evening, my phone rang again...202 area code (it's not quite so nerve-wracking now that I live in the DC area, but still gives me pause). It was the AO telling me if I was still interested in the Program Reviewer job, he was ready to pencil me in for it. I asked about the Aide job; he said while the interview panel liked me, there were other candidates they were considering.
Well, hell.
Once again, I had the wherewithal to thank the AO for his call and tell him I was still interested in the Program Reviewer job. And then I started to sulk. Just a little bit, and not for long. But I had already had kind of a crappy day. Frustrations with the dry cleaner (four visits required to get O4 stripes on my Bravo jacket), losing the battle with the weedeater (thankfully there were no injuries involved and I eventually won the war...the next day), not working out or eating particularly well lately...all conspired to put the AO's call in the worst possible light.
After gaining a small margin of perspective with the help of my sister and friends, I came to realize the Aide job would have been a poor fit for me. It *absolutely* would have been super-cool fun -- all the traveling, meeting some of the country's top leadership as well as all the Coasties at so many different units, getting the high-altitude big picture of the Coast Guard; and I would have done a perfectly acceptable job at it. But it just wasn't the right fit. It reminds me a little of my friend Rickey's attitude about campgrounds that didn't allow dogs. He had a *big* dog back in the day, and while it was sometimes frustrating for him to have to drive on down the road past those campgrounds, he always felt that rule probably kept him out of some places he wouldn't have been so welcome anyway. I'm only kinda saying that my tattoos are like Rickey's dog, keeping me out of places I have no reason to be anyway. They're only the physical manifestation of an individualism that I'm not ready to change, or obscure, or censor...but not flaunt or obnoxiously brandish about, either. I see lots of days wearing a woolly-pully in my future. I might even have to get one of the cardigans.
So, my orders are on the board for Program Reviewer at CG-821. I would be *LYING* if I said I wasn't nervous. I'm *very* nervous. Like, "how did I get myself into this mess"-nervous. But that feeling is a little familiar. I remember it from getting orders to HAMILTON as OPS and MAUI as CO, from staring into the face of a new challenge, something unfamiliar, something I haven't done before. I wrote about it when I was on MAUI. The next crop of crews was starting to come in, and one of the new COs went on a familiarization ride with us during post-drydock sea trials:
It was about a week or ten days before Christmas. Suppo and I had left the boat right when liberty was piped to go shopping for a Christmas wine and cheese party I was hosting. We stopped by the L&L Hawaiian Drive-In just outside the 32nd St Gate of NAVSTA San Diego to get some lunch to sustain us. I ordered the kalbi rib lunch plate (with rice and mac salad). I had grease and teriyaki sauce all over my face and hands when my phone rang. It was a 202 area code...during transfer season, that only means one thing--the detailer.
Breathe, Charlotte, remember to BREATHE.
I (somewhat) calmly wiped my hands so I could answer the phone, chatted with the Assignment Officer/detailer (AO) for a few minutes, long enough for him to tell me I was going to MAUI. I had enough wits remaining about me to thank him for the call. I hung up. And then almost hyperventilated. I don't think I stopped saying omg for about two days. Suppo was very patient with me that afternoon.
This year my e-resume was due mid-August, I think, because I was putting in for a Special Assignment, as a Program Reviewer at CG-821. I duly submitted my wish-list, and then really didn't think much more about it. I knew I was going somewhere at HQ, so why fret about the details (anybody that knows me, knows that is a *flat-out* lie...of course I worried about it!!). All there was to do was wait.
Then the AO called me the first time. I spent a couple of days shaking my head in wonderment that a) he offered the opportunity and b) I turned it down.
Then he called back about a week later (at this point, I was starting to recognize his phone number on caller ID...kinda a weird feeling). He asked me if I was interested in putting in for a high-profile Aide job. Ok, so when the AO calls you *TWICE* to push special assignments, you don't say "no" a second time. I said yes, and started a crazy roller-coaster ride that ended this week with PCS orders for my payback tour.
As the AO explained the process to me, my file would be forwarded to the appropriate office and they would be in touch about an interview if they were interested. He made it sound like the turn-around time was going to be pretty fast. Somehow, I think our definitions of "pretty fast" were slightly divergent. To me, "pretty fast" should mean, I don't know, maybe two or three days. So four days went by, then a week went by, and I still hadn't heard anything. I started telling myself that the office wasn't interested in me, my record wasn't good enough, I should have known better than to expect an interview, the whole thing was so far-fetched anyway. Sadly, I let myself get pretty down about it.
In the interim, the Deputy at CG-82 contacted me, requesting I call him for a phone interview. I phoned him back the next day, and we chatted for about 25 minutes. He asked a little about me, but also spent plenty of time making sure I knew what the Program Reviewer job was all about. He was very forthright about the pressures of the job, lots of responsibility and long hours. He gave me the names of a couple of people currently in the office, and encouraged me to talk with them about what they do.
But then, a couple of Tuesdays ago, I got an email. The subject line read: "Interview for ______ Aide." The first line: "Congratulations..." I called my sister. I called my friend who had been an Aide. I think I might have even shouted it from the rooftops. I could barely contain my excitement.
I actually prepped for this interview. I talked to my friend to get her perspective on being an Aide, about what kinds of questions they might ask, about what kinds of answers might be appropriate. I really appreciate her patience with my ignorance and naivete...I'm not sure it would have occurred to me that my involvement in UCMJ proceedings weren't appropriate and contributory topics of conversation for an interview. And she was honest enough to advise me that I needed to be upfront with the interviewers about the tattoos...an Aide's job is to make sure there are no surprises, so showing up the first day of a high-visibility job with a full sleeve tattoo the bosses didn't know about kinda sets a Girl up for failure. With that in mind, I went into the interview with a somewhat fatalistic attitude of presenting my best effort, to hell with the results.
The interview was last Tuesday. I was nervous! I arranged to use a landline at the School of Public Policy so that I wouldn't have to worry about the call being dropped by my cell carrier. I dressed professionally to give myself some confidence and remind my self to maintain my professional persona (no cussing allowed!). I wrote out key points to questions I thought they might ask so I wouldn't stumble (as much) over my answers. And I wondered how I went from not even knowing I wanted this job to it really, really mattering to me.
The interview was scheduled for 1600. About 20 minutes beforehand, the current Aide called me to tell me they were running behind, some things had come up; would I be able to move the call to 1700? Umm, of course, no problem. And then I (tried to) read some of the articles assigned for class the next day. It was a little anti-climatic. But 1700 finally ticked around on the clock, and I made the call.
I thought the interview went very well. The interview panel asked me some of the questions I thought they might, but then come up with a few others that I wasn't expecting. I was able to put together cogent responses to all of them. One made me nearly choke up: the CAPT asked what my crew would have said my Command Philosophy was. I told them about the BM2 that, as he left MAUI, told me he really appreciated how I stuck to my Philosophy, relating events back and referring to it on a regular basis. Made me miss my crews! And then they asked what was the one single scariest moment I had faced underway--that would have been playing chicken with a 650-foot container ship, speeding 18 knots straight at the oil platforms, and crossing his bow at about 400 yards to try to turn him away from the security zone. The crew responded so fantastically to that situation , and were totally ready to react to the threat if had fully manifested.
At the end of the interview, the panel told me that I should hear something by the end of the next week. Ugh!! I HATE waiting.
Turns out I didn't have to wait nearly that long. When I got home from class the next day, I had an email from the Deputy at CG-82 asking me to call him. I called him first thing the next morning; he told me I was on the short list for Program Reviewer but he wanted to check with me to see if I was still interested and make sure I had the opportunity to talk with someone in the job. We made arrangements for me to visit the office the next day (I was headed to HQ for something else already).
I'm glad I went to visit CG-82. I met both the Deputy and the CAPT. The Deputy talked about how much responsibility the Program Reviewer had, both in terms of the budget and some aspects of policy for their programs. Millions of dollars, the last check to make sure messages are consistent, briefing ADMs going to testify before Congress...very high-powered stuff. Yup, it kinda intimidated me, and I told him that. He looked at me a little quizzically, and asked, weren't you CO of a ship? Yeah, but somehow it just seems different. The consequences of mistakes just seem so much more daunting. But as those words were coming out of my mouth, I realized just how inconsistent they were. As CO, peoples' *lives* are in your hands, millions of dollars of assets and equipment are at stake. What's the difference between the levels of responsibilities again? I guess after two years as CO, that mantle of responsibility finally settled more comfortably on my shoulders.
Later that evening, my phone rang again...202 area code (it's not quite so nerve-wracking now that I live in the DC area, but still gives me pause). It was the AO telling me if I was still interested in the Program Reviewer job, he was ready to pencil me in for it. I asked about the Aide job; he said while the interview panel liked me, there were other candidates they were considering.
Well, hell.
Once again, I had the wherewithal to thank the AO for his call and tell him I was still interested in the Program Reviewer job. And then I started to sulk. Just a little bit, and not for long. But I had already had kind of a crappy day. Frustrations with the dry cleaner (four visits required to get O4 stripes on my Bravo jacket), losing the battle with the weedeater (thankfully there were no injuries involved and I eventually won the war...the next day), not working out or eating particularly well lately...all conspired to put the AO's call in the worst possible light.
After gaining a small margin of perspective with the help of my sister and friends, I came to realize the Aide job would have been a poor fit for me. It *absolutely* would have been super-cool fun -- all the traveling, meeting some of the country's top leadership as well as all the Coasties at so many different units, getting the high-altitude big picture of the Coast Guard; and I would have done a perfectly acceptable job at it. But it just wasn't the right fit. It reminds me a little of my friend Rickey's attitude about campgrounds that didn't allow dogs. He had a *big* dog back in the day, and while it was sometimes frustrating for him to have to drive on down the road past those campgrounds, he always felt that rule probably kept him out of some places he wouldn't have been so welcome anyway. I'm only kinda saying that my tattoos are like Rickey's dog, keeping me out of places I have no reason to be anyway. They're only the physical manifestation of an individualism that I'm not ready to change, or obscure, or censor...but not flaunt or obnoxiously brandish about, either. I see lots of days wearing a woolly-pully in my future. I might even have to get one of the cardigans.
So, my orders are on the board for Program Reviewer at CG-821. I would be *LYING* if I said I wasn't nervous. I'm *very* nervous. Like, "how did I get myself into this mess"-nervous. But that feeling is a little familiar. I remember it from getting orders to HAMILTON as OPS and MAUI as CO, from staring into the face of a new challenge, something unfamiliar, something I haven't done before. I wrote about it when I was on MAUI. The next crop of crews was starting to come in, and one of the new COs went on a familiarization ride with us during post-drydock sea trials:
One of his questions was, how do you integrate into the crew that's already in place, not knowing all of the particulars of the oparea...how do you lead without total confidence in yourself?
The funny thing is, he was actually able to articulate the question. I certainly felt the same way when I was getting ready to take over MAUI, but I wasn't so clear with myself why I was uncomfortable and uncertain. I hemmed and hawed for a moment, but then told him, "Fake it until you make it." It really was an attitude of bravado that got me through those first few weeks of wondering what the hell I was doing and why on earth anyone in a position of power would have ever though I was a good fit for the job. Eventually, I got more comfortable, mostly for two reasons, I think. First, I developed the knowledge the operational area and mission required; I studied tasking messages, did some of the specialty operations, and in general educated myself on what I was doing. Second, I just couldn't sustain the level of hypervigilance I adopted in those first few weeks. I was always on edge, always looking for the next thing that was coming along. I don't think I got complacent, necessarily, but something like it. Maybe I just grew into the leadership role.
I had a brief reminder of those first few days as we were returning from our shake-down trip yesterday. [One of our main diesel engines] failed, just [as we started our approach to the pier]. I took over driving us in. At one point, I looked at the situation and realized that I had absolutely no clue what I was doing...I'm just a wanna-be Farm Girl for god's sake, not some BAMF (as my room-mate calls me) war-fighter. How the *hell* was I gonna get us out of this mess?! I thought about it for a moment, and realized that I had no choice...there was no one else with us that I could turn the mess over to, and expect a better outcome than if I just did it myself, even with my extreeeeeeme discomfort with where we were at. I balled up, and faked it until we made it in.
And then took myself off to my office for a few minutes to physically stop my hands from shaking. But, if you can spare me a moment of egotism, I did an awesome!!! job getting us safely home. It was graceful and it looked good. I really did look like I knew what I was doing.
Ha ha ha ha ha ahahahaaa. That's the funny part!But isn't that what this life is all about...facing the next challenge, stretching myself to discover if limits exist?
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