I don't like Hickam, and it's starting to wear onto my feelings towards the Air Force.

I hate Hickam Air Force Base. I hate it. It is the most illogically designed place I have ever come across. My hostility towards it increases each time I have to venture on to it. It's getting to the point that I am already angry when they're checking my ID at the entry gate. At some point a guard is going to sense my increasing capacity for violence and prohibit my entry. I mean, the Air Force tries to hold itself out as the branch of the military comprised of rather bright service members. If that is the case, which officer was drunk when they laid out the streets and such for Hickam? Zac and I get lost there routinely. Even when we have a map.

Latest irritation: I needed to go to the $%@&#(@(*!!& Hickam fitness center the other day so I checked their website for directions, knowing that I might get lost there. No directions to the fitness center, no map, just "Building 1120". Gee. Thanks. So I went to the main website for Hickam. That map only labels about 5% of the buildings, by name. Not number. So "1120" is worthless as far as help. I found my registration form for the 5k that said that the address for the fitness center was 900 Hangar Ave. I found Hangar Ave on the map, but there aren't streets indicating where the 900s would fall. I figured if I drove down the length of Hangar Ave I'd find it. Not a big deal - the street is only a few blocks long.

I drove the entire length of Hangar Ave. The fitness center was nowhere. I was pissed. Utterly, totally, thoroughly pissed. And of course the numbering system of the buildings is incoherent at best so I couldn't find the mystical building 1120 by looking for closely-numbered buildings. I was so pissed that I left. My sole mission was to get myself off the damn base. I could have stopped and asked a friendly Air Force person, but really, I would have started accusing them of being at fault for all that I hated about Hickam.

So when I got home I called the fitness center for clarification as to their location.

Fitness center employee (FCE): "Hello?"

Me: [pleasantly] "Yes, I was wondering where you were located?"

FCE: "We're across from Lodging." (Hmm. Only helpful if I know where Lodging is.)

Me: "Okay, are you near the Commissary?" (I know where the Commissary is and how to get there, and according to the pieces of information I had gathered up to this point the fitness center was supposed to be somewhere near there.)

FCE: "Um, we're across from Lodging."

[pause] [sigh]

Me: "Is that near the Commissary?"

FCE: "It's a couple blocks away. But yeah, we're right across from Lodging."

Me: "And where exactly is Lodging?"

FCE: [pause] "Um."

Me: "Is there an address for Lodging?" [growing frustrated]

FCE: "Um, yeah, but I'm not sure what it is."

Me: "Does the fitness center have an address?" [straining through a fake smile]

FCE: "Uh, yeah. . . I'm not sure though."

Me: "What intersection are you near?"

FCE: [triumph in knowledge] "Oh! We're at the corner of Vickers and Scott Circle."

Me: "So you're not on Hangar?"

FCE: [thinking about it for a second] "No, we're not."

Me: [resigned to the situation that is Hickam AFB] "Okay. Thank you for your help."

FCE: "Yeah, we're just across from Lodging."

Me: "Thanks again."

FCE: [confused] "Bye"

I'm telling you - these people are in charge of flying planes and reading maps!!! They are responsible for defending us!!! The only explanation for the layout of Hickam is that 70 years ago they were afraid that terrorists were going to invade Oahu via the Air Force Base. If they f'd up the layout of the base they knew that the terrorists would never be able to make it any further onto the island. It's pretty ingenious in that respect. In the meantime it's just a major source of irritation to me.

Don't even get me started on the lack of signage there. . .

Another day of the great outdoors

Today's mission: Koko Crater.

A few weeks ago, when we finished up Chinaman's Hat, Bernadette made a joke that since she saw me conquer that challenge that she was going to invite me on more of her crazy outdoor adventures. I laughed. I shouldn't have, because at about 11:00 this morning I found myself standing at the foot of a beast of a hill, looking up the 1,207 feet I was about to hike. Oh, happy day.

It was a fearsome foursome: Bernadette, a co-worker of hers, Zac and me. We headed out with the sun beating down on us and little to no wind. No shade either. My kingdom for an elm tree! The trail is the remnants of an old railroad line going up the hill, the ties resulting in rather inadequate steps. (Not a railroad for a passenger train - I'd guess instead for carts for moving supplies and such. Kind of like the things that Indiana Jones raced around in in The Temple of Doom. At least that's what I was imagining in my mind.)

I'm not going to lie - it was tough. I got winded, frequently. I got a little light headed and a little dizzy (from the heat I'd wager). After about the half-way point it became a challenge of endurance. Five steps, rest. Ten. Rest. Eight. Rest. Glance down the moutain, up the mountain. Too close to turn back. Five more. Rest. Twelve. Sit down. Get up. Too damn close. Six more. Rest. C'mon, seven more. And so on and so on and so on.

One of the cool things about the climb is the people you run into along the way. The people coming down offer encouragement, you return the favor when you're descending. Everyone has to rest, even on the way down, so you chat with others that are taking a moment to catch their breath: How many times have you done this one? Have you done Chinaman's Hat? Where else have you been? When you get to the top, climb on the metal stuff - it's stronger than it looks and gives the best view.

And it is an amazing feeling when you get to the top. The view is incredible. My camera (which I remembered to bring this time!) doesn't do it justice, since there was a little haze in the air. It's pretty amazing. We stayed up there for awhile, chatted with people, and then headed down the mountain.

I'm probably not going to be able to walk tomorrow, but I feel pretty good right now. Here's some photos of the day:

Here's the beast. If you look closely, you can see a faint line running to the summit starting near the light pole on the left. That is the trail.

Here's Zac, just about to start up the hill. Mountain. Whatever. How big does it have to be to be a mountain? It felt like a mountain. Anyhow, you can see here the railroad ties that make up steps. About 20 feet further down the trail the metal rails start showing up. I'm not exactly sure why the railroad is there. It appears that at the top there might have been some sort of military outpost at some point. Observation point I'd guess. Little concrete bunkers. Also at the top is a old, rusted out motor that apparently pulled the railcars up the tracks to the top of the crater. The tracks go right up the side of the hill in a perfectly straight line, with no concern as to grade. Shame on them for not designing it with hikers (60 years later) in mind.


This was a 'fun' part. The bridge. It's not very high, granted, only about 10-15 feet above the "ground". But it's a rail road, with nice, big, wide empty spaces to see down through, making it a little disorienting. The steepness is considerable. Also the ties are not parallel with the "ground" so you don't feel confident walking on it. At least, Bernadette and I didn't. I was having flashes of "Stand By Me" and I just couldn't bring myself to walk upright over it. So I scampered up the incline using the rail as a hand, er, rail, and essentially walked on all fours to get across it. I'm all about substance, not style.

Made it to the top. Here we are looking down at Hanauma Bay, home of good snorkeling. It looks so small from here. Probably because I'm 1,000 feet up. Let's turn a little to my right:

This is looking back towards Diamond Head and Honolulu. Care to zoom in? Let's!

There's Diamond Head to the top left and Honolulu is that collection of white-ish buildings towards the top right. I assure you that you probably can't afford any of the houses anywhere in this photo.

Koko crater. It's bowl shape apparently has caused it to having some interesting flora and fauna contained within it. There are paths down there to walk, but I hear that they're relatively flat. What's the point in that?

I am woman. Grrr.

Taking our time. The smiles mask the tired, aching, burning going on in our quads.

And now we have to go down. Sigh. I'm too old for this. Or at the very least my knees aren't going to be happy.

I'm getting so close to the bottom. So very close. You can't tell in this photo, because it's a still shot, but at this point my legs were jelly and pretty wobbly. If I stumbled at this point I would have resigned myself to my fate and just rolled down the hill the rest of the way.

Success! Be glad that your computer doesn't have smell-o-vision, because I was pretty sweaty and gross at this point. But I felt good and I'm sure somehow the entire ordeal benefited my health. I wish ice cream benefited my health that much. I'm sure tomorrow I won't be able to stand up from a seated position, but I'm glad I did it. Zac says he wants to do this climb once or twice a month.

Sicko.

My un-employment. For the moment.

I'm curled up on the couch with my laptop and a cup of hot chocolate while watching the Anaheim Ducks play the Chicago Blackhawks. It's kind of like being at home in MN, except that it's raining instead of snowing outside and because it's 80 here instead of 20. I'll just pretend that it's cold outside for awhile while I sip my cocoa.

I think I've mentioned that I was telecommuting back to MN for employment since I got here. I would work on documents from home and upload them to the computer back in MN. Magic, I know. Well, as all good things must, it came to an end. I knew it would. I mean, in the back of my head I understood that there was a finite amount of work that needed to be done so once it was done, I would be unemployed. The end just came quicker than I had anticipated. I was hoping I could get at least a few more weeks of work to get me through the holidays. Megan and Paul are coming out at the end of December and my folks are coming out about four weeks later. I was, admittedly, relying on the flexibility of working from home to accommodate my 2+ weeks of family visitation.

Zac and I talked about my options and we decided that I could take a few weeks off of working, i.e. be voluntarily unemployed. Honestly, I have to admit it is nice to have someone around the house to do things during the day. I know that somewhere Gloria Steinem or "Up With Women" (or some other like-named organization) is groaning and plotting to have me eliminated, but it's true. During the day I can run errands, do the grocery shopping, make food for the week, etc., so that when both Zac and I are home we can go do "fun" things instead of those chores. It is an absolute and total luxury. And, unlike a lot of families, we don't have to worry about losing the roof over our heads or our health insurance because I'm not working. I am not unaware of how fortunate we are in that regard. I know that when (and it is a when) I go back to work it will mean tired weeknights and chore-centered weekends. And that's okay too. I guess I'm just saying that being at home isn't as awful as I thought it would be.

With all that said, there is a job I want. It is the first, and I stress FIRST, job in the history of my job hunting that I feel like I'm qualified for. So qualified that I want to march into the hiring office and dare them to find someone more qualified than me. Since I graduated from college, heck even during college, I have never read a job description that I felt so good about. When I came across this posting I read it twice because I felt like it was too good to be true. Suddenly I want to write a cover letter, I want to update my resume, I want to put together the random documents needed. Suddenly applying for a job wasn't akin to having wisdom teeth pulled. I. WANT. THIS. JOB.

But since I want this job so badly I am setting myself up for a potentially large disappointment. I'm used to rejection letters; they're part of the job-hunting game. A particularly large part of my job-hunting game, come to think of it. I just know that this time around I will be greatly disappointed if I don't even get the chance to plead my case in person. I just want an interview. Give me a chance to explain why I can do this job better than any other candidate. I've got most of paperwork together already, but I am waiting to get a copy of a letter of good standing from the Minnesota Bar.

I am so deliriously happy about this job posting that I even called the contact on the posting to ask about the writing sample requirement. For background purposes, many legal job postings, especially entry level ones, require a 3-5 page writing sample. Usually it's a standard piece of legal writing, a brief, a memo, etc. Standard, that is, if you practice law. I haven't written one of those things since law school. I have some old copies of my work from then, but that's not who I am right now as an attorney. I don't really want to give myself a fake writing assignment just to create a new one, but I will if I have to. So today I called the contact person and left a voicemail asking her about the writing requirement. She hasn't called me back yet, and I'm just chomping at the bit. It's a federal job and the deadline is Dec 29, so I know that I've got some time, but I want to get my application in with plenty of time to take care of anything that might come up.

So for the next few weeks I'll wear my Donna Reed dresses and make cakes for the Beav's bake sale, but then, hopefully, after that I'll go get to play research attorney again.

Rewind

Remember a few weeks ago when I lamented that I didn't have any photos of the kayaking trip to Chinaman's Hat? Well, Bernadette sent me a few that she and her husband took. So I do have proof that I kayaked! (Too bad none of the photos were from the top of the rock.)

Here's the little island, about a third of a mile off the coast.

Here's Zac and me, kayaking back. Nice calm waters on this side of the rock.

Us, feeling pretty proud of ourselves.

I'm hoping we can go kayaking again soon. For sure I want to take Megan and Paul out there when they come in four weeks!

FOUR WEEKS! Woo hoo!

Happy Thanksgiving

I hope everyone has a fantastic day today. We all have a lot to be thankful for. Family, friends, health, food on the table. It's big things and little things. Be grateful for all that you have. Give some you love a hug, and then have that second piece of pie. Happy Thanksgiving!

Actual footage

As Paul likes to say, here's "actual footage" of the beer bottling process:

Brewmasters are we

Believe it or not, but it was 68 and rainy today. All day. Wonderfully gloomy. I even made chicken wild rice soup. It's as close to November weather as I'm going to get, so I seized the opportunity to make a stick-to-your-bones cream-based soup. I'm sure tomorrow it will be back to summer, so I have to enjoy these days as I can.

Since the great outdoors was out of the question due to the sogginess, Zac and I went back to the Diamond Head Winery to bottle our beer. At the beginning of November, Zac and I went to a local winery to mix up some beer and some wine. Our wine won't be ready until the end of December, but our beer was ready for bottling today. Jeff showed us how to use the machine and we bottled up about thirty 20 oz bottles of a Belgian style ale. The Winery makes the process really easy, so we are by no means experts of any kind right now, but we're feeling pretty proud of ourselves.

Here's Zac, The Mighty Bottler, standing next to the machine that takes the beer from the carboy (big bottle in the background) and puts it into the smaller bottles.

Here's me, using that super-human upper-body strength I have, using the contraption that crimps the bottle caps onto the bottles. (Okay, parts of that statement might be a lie. And I'm pretty sure it's not the part about the contraption.)

This is me pretending to sample the wares. Pretending, people. The beer still has about two months to go before it's ready for consumption. Flat, not-yet-fully-fermented beer doesn't sound appealing to me. Although, at the end of the day, it IS beer. And if this were a simpler time, say the 1500s or so, I would probably be throwing the alcoholic sludge back delighting in it's glory. But then again, if this was the 1500s, I'd probably be the mother of 14 kids and close to death due to some disease. I might need beer if that was the case.

Here we are with our boxes of bottled beer. You can see by the size of the bottle in my hand that these are not the usual 12 oz bottles people drink. We're eager to try the beer in about six weeks to see what it's like. Hopefully it's decent, because we've got a boatload of it. We'll probably end up making labels for the bottles. Zac would like to call it Goat Piss ale. The beer is his baby, so I may have to have to acquiesce to that. (Goats are a symbol of Navy Chiefs.) We'll let you know how it turns out. Maybe I'll scrap the whole "law" thing and just become a brewer.

Cheers!