So you were miserable in New York City, and now you’re going to be miserable out here in the sticks. At least someone’s life hasn’t been upheaved. — Beetlejuice

I sometimes like to describe myself as an “internal immigrant”.  That means that I come from a time and place that is very different from where I am now.  Let’s face it, the Northern Plains and the Bay Area share not much more than a generally similar language and government structure with the Bluegrass.  I bring with me my own values, and yes, I even rail about the way things run around here.  Let’s face it, once you’ve gone to school after a blizzard that dumped 36 inches of snow on your doorstep over the weekend, you don’t have a lot of patience with people who cancel school after a heavy frost.

That being said, Kentucky is Kentucky.  Just because there are aspects of living here that I detest doesn’t mean that I expect them to be changed for my convenience.  When you move to a new area and culture, it’s your job to integrate as much as possible.  Yes, you will bring your own contributions with you, but you shouldn’t expect Dallas to suddenly become Los Angeles, or vice versa.

Lilo:Did you ever… kill anyone?
Mr. Cobra Bubbles: We’re getting off-subject here.

— Lilo and Stitch

One of the things that hit me in the face when I went from a military contractor to a truly civilian company was how few people had served in the military.  The next thing that hit me was how many of them asked that exact question.

Standard response – Not directly.  (Truth)

Non-standard response – Sorry, can’t answer that. (Also truth, and the look on their face is priceless.)

Contrary to what you will hear in the bars, not every Army vet was an Airborne Ranger, not every Navy vet was a SEAL.  There are quite a few Marines who weren’t Recon, and the Air Force only has so many fighter pilots.  While our collective goal was to prepare for the task of bringing about the untimely and violent death of our fellow man, most of us did things to support the guys who pull the triggers, fly the jets, and fire the cannons.

Hollywood does us no favors, either.  Every guy in the military is a born-again killer, and every veteran is a simmering pot of psychological problems, at least in the movies and on TV.  The truth is more like “A lot people in the military have a vague idea how to use their weapon.  Some are really good at kicking doors and shooting people when necessary.  Most people take off their uniform, hang it up, and get on with their lives.  A few need a lot of support to deal with the things that happened to them while  they still wore it.”

Where do I fall?  Well, I never killed anyone.  I heard shots fired in anger exactly three times in nine years.  I didn’t fire them, and they weren’t directed at me.  I have bad dreams every so often, but so does everyone else.  Most of the times that I might have gotten hurt or killed were because of my own stupidity or that of someone else.  Nothing that special about me in those respects.

In other words, I’m just some guy.   No need to ask silly questions.

Of course it’s unfair. We’re women. Our choices are never easy. — Titanic

We ask a lot of our women.

A lady who doesn’t want to or can’t have children is continually asked about when it’s going to happen.  A mother who chooses to stay at home with young children will sometimes take heat from those who don’t agree with that choice.  Most mothers work outside the home now, but I’d probably be safe in saying that a huge share of the home work and child raising is still done by these women.

Irish Woman is one of the most hard working people I know.  She works full time, and does most of the cooking, at least half of the housework, and more than half the yard work.  She’s on task for doctor’s appointments, teacher conferences, birthday parties, and all of the other assorted stuff that comes with having Boo.  I do what I can, and Girlie Bear is a godsend, but the Atlas that is holding our family up is Irish Woman.  God help us if she ever fails or even shrugs.

I also know a few young girls and women who are looking for someone to take care of them.  They want someone to make the money, pay the bills, and make sure they have everything they could ever need or want.  It’s a nice gig if they can get it, but I always wonder how they will handle it when that situation changes and the person or thing they were leaning on so completely is suddenly not there.

For me, I am trying to raise Girlie Bear, along with her brothers, to never depend on someone else for the necessities of life.  I want them to lean on someone when they need it and share their life with someone because they want to, not because they need to.  I want all of them fully capable of standing alone and taking care of their business.

So, if you’re one of those women that is the rock of your family, or if you’re a woman who takes care of herself, by herself, thank you.  We couldn’t live our lives without you, and I’m not sure we would want to try.

Queen Elinor:Merida, a princess does not set her weapons on the table.
Princess Merida:Mom, it’s just my bow!
Queen Elinor:A princess should not have weapons in my opinion.
King Fergus:Princess or not. Learning to fight is essential!

— Brave

For the years just preceding my parents’ divorce and for first few years afterward, my family spent a lot of time around women who were routinely beaten by their husbands and boyfriends.  Birds of a feather flock together, and all that.  That meant a lot of impromptu group therapy sessions around kitchen tables and living rooms.  I heard a lot of “Where was your family?” and “Why didn’t you get out sooner?” questions, but I never heard “Why didn’t you fight back?”.  Imagine the outrage if someone had asked “What caliber for abuser?”.

My daughter will never be one of those women, if I have anything to do about it.

I’m a big guy, and some find me a tad intimidating.  That seems to go double for the young men I meet through Girlie Bear.  But I am under no illusion that the threat of “My daddy is going to kill you!” will deter an abusive husband or boyfriend.  Heck, I know that eventually she’ll bring home a boy who doesn’t look at me as a possible cause of his death.  I have to prepare her to take care of herself.  That preparation includes teaching her how to shoot and to fight dirty.  But it starts and ends with teaching her that it’s not only all right to fight back, but expected.  It’s good that the young men respect the amount of pain I may cause them, but it’s better when they know that it’s not me they should worry about.

I want to raise my daughter in such a way that in the event someone hurts her, the last thing they hear as they’re wheeled into the ambulance or put in the police cruiser is her voice telling them they got off easy.

Don’t anybody move! Hold it right there! The fuse is out. — A Christmas Story

One of the many good points of living in an older home is the amount of things I have to figure out and fix.  For instance, our wiring has at least two generations of technology and is laid out in some of the strangest circuits I’ve ever seen.

For example, our kitchen is on the same circuit as one of the outlets in the dining room and the outlet on the side porch.  It’s also too small for the load, which means we have to balance things quite carefully.  Want to use the microwave to heat up your lunch?  Then you better make sure the crock pot isn’t in use or DaddyBear isn’t making a pot of coffee.

One of the strangest things I’m trying to figure out is why one of the circuits in the basement controls the lights in the family room and basement bedroom, the outlet in my work area, and the outlet and light outside the basement door.  It’s like someone threw a bunch of darts at a map of the house, and where the darts hit is where they connected them electrically.

I’m sure I’ll eventually figure it out.  I’m just as sure that I’m not going to try to use my rather limited DIY skills to straighten it all out and/or replace it wholesale.  I know that residential 110 volt electrical work is pretty straightforward, but anything that could lead to our home becoming the smoking backdrop for the evening news is something that I will save up and pay someone else to take care of.

Don’t even get me started about the ductwork and plumbing around here.  We’ll be talking all night.

 Don’t worry. As long as you hit that wire with the connecting hook at precisely 88 miles per hour, the instant the lightning strikes the tower… everything will be fine. — Back To The Future

There’s nothing like the critical path when you’re planning, especially if everything has to be done just right or everything will fall apart.  It’s best when catastrophic failure involves big colorful explosions.  Those tend to keep the heart rate up and the juices flowing.  These things are almost as much fun as the “And then a miracle happens” plans I’ve both created and been subject to over the years.

“Keep It Simple Stupid” ought to be branded to the forearm of every project planner on the planet.