Ladies and Gentlemen please, turn your attention to me:
A Challenge Coin Update
I haven’t been keeping careful track of the number of outgoing coins, but if my monkey math counting skills are working there appear to be about 130 or so left.
A number of you who responded to the thread we used to get a count for the order haven’t actually ordered yet. I don’t want you to miss out before they are gone.
As a reminder:
Dorothy Olson has kindly agreed to collect names and addresses and to compile mailing labels. I’ve been to the USPS to confirm that the envelopes I have will work and to figure out the postage. Dorothy’s coin is in the mail to test it out.
Costs: $6.00 per coin. Shipping is $2.55 for one coin and $.50 for each additional coin. This will work for packages up to 13 oz. which is 6 coins or so. Being a recovering accountant, I brushed off my rusty skill and worked out this handy table:
Number Price Postage Total
1 6.00 2.55 $ 8.55
2 12.00 3.05 $15.05
3 18.00 3.55 $21.55
4 24.00 4.05 $28.05
5 30.00 4.55 $34.55
6 36.00 5.05 $41.05
If you wanted more than 6 we will have to either send two packages or I will have to work out the postage separately. It shouldn’t be a big deal.
Hopefully, you have a Pay Pal account. If so, send the appropriate amount to Daryle.LaMonica@Hotmail.com and please remember use “Send Money to Family or Friends” and don’t mention that it’s for a purchase or product. That way they won’t bang me for their fee.
Also, and this is important, send an email with your name and address to Dorothy Olson at email@example.com
Welcome. The idea was floated that a ‘talk amongst yourselves’ blog would be a good addition to for the Non-Facebook Crowd. Here it is.
Ed. Note: Since Lex used this as his masthead and his website has been down, thanks to the Wayback Machine I was able to retrieve it.
Sat – November 22, 2003
Because Beaty asked…
The nice man from Britain asked me what the logos were on the title bar – they reflect a portion of my navy and aviation history, I have left the training squadrons out:
From the left you have the crest of the US Naval Academy, in Annapolis, MD – my alma mater. To this day, I cannot see the academy’s chapel dome in the distance without checking my watch to see if I am late, and wondering whether I am going to be in trouble.
Call it the echoes of my guilty conscience – As a midshipman, I was very far from perfect.
Sat – November 22, 2003
Three weeks at sea, an exercise complete, a message to draft.
So, back from three weeks at sea aboard one of our newest aircraft carriers. An amazing technological marvel, to be sure, compared to my last ship, which was 42 years old when we brought her home and has since been de-commissioned.
Now, the last ship was actually mine, I was not a visitor, merely on her, but of her: ship’s company. Even when I was flying, as a squadron member and part of the embarked air wing, the carrier was more of a hotel-cum-airport than home. So the ship I walked off of yesterday was just a place I had come for mentoring and evaluation with the rest of my staff, we were (not always welcome) visitors. The ship was emphatically not mine.
By lex, on October 24th, 2003
There is nothing in the world quite so sweet as returning home from a long deployment at sea…
This is me and the Hobbit. 2 June, 2003. The ship in the background has just come back from a seven month deployment to the Arabian Gulf. It was nominally seven months, because we’d had a two-day inport after a three week graduation exercise prior to departing, back in November. Felt like eight, fine – call it seven.
Even the Hobbit, who is as strong and determined a Navy wife as they come, had some issues with the two-day inport. We’d been working up since the late Winter of the previous year, and workups involve a lot of comings and goings, with only the promise of more to come. Pack up, say good-bye, get re-acquainted – repeat. It’s very stressful on a marriage, on a family. It takes a real hero to make it work, to keep the home fires burning. She’s that kind of gal, and the smartest thing I’ve ever done was ask her to a dance. The rest, as they say, is history.
By lex, on October 22nd, 2003
As opposed to certainties…
My son (17) is out tonight with his girlfriend and her mom. Wonderful people, liberal as they come. I’ve talked a couple of times with the GF, who has expressed to me a concern that she might offend me if she shared her political views with me. She deems me perhaps a right-wing knuckle-dragger, much given to the taking of umbrage. I am in the military after all – what else might one expect?
I don’t know that I really am all that conservative – I like to think of myself as being more of a libertarian, with a slight conservative bent, but unchained by the orthodoxies of either political camp. I took one of those on line tests a few months back that basically confirmed that, on a four axis chart.
By lex, on October 13th, 2003
The jet is going about 150 mph. In the time it took for you to read that first sentence, it would have hit the deck and stopped, the arresting gear shrieking as it converted the energy of 33,000 pounds of strike fighter through an elaborately reeved system of inch thick woven steel cables, buffered by enormous hydraulic cylinders. Upon landing, the pilot’s body would surge against the four-point restraint system, with the ballistic inertial reel locking, to keep his face from going through the instrument panel. It would be not unlike a high speed car crash. To an observer outside the jet, the noise would have been deafening.
This was in the daytime. For a pilot with even a modicum of experience, this would be considered fun.
By lex, on October 12th, 2003
Ninety thousand tons of diplomacy. Four and half acres of sovereign US territory, going where it will, as it will. Some French midshipmen I was escorting 20 years ago got their first look at a US style carrier (USS John F. Kennedy) in Norfolk, Virginia. One of them, the most talkative (and that was a keen competition) said to me, “la porte-avion, c’est grande, c’est giantesque, mais ce n’est pas tellement belle.”
By lex, on October 9th, 2003
Zen and the art of motorcycle riding on Hwy 5.
This is the daily ride. That is not the daily rider. That’s the Kat, who not only is morally sure that she’s the boss of me, but thinks it with such authority that I cannot be quite sure she’s not right. A true force of nature.
It’s a great commuter, if you like that sort of thing. Where I live in Sandy Eggo is about 25 miles from where I work, which means that traffic is an ever-present factor in my life. There’s this thing called “the Merge” that is entirely unpredictable. It can be about cars all moving at 80 mph in close formation like a synchronized swimming team on meth, and then for no comprehensible reason it can turn into a parking lot. And back again. God forbid someone has a fender bender in the opposite direction lane: traffic will stop in both directions. You could maybe see a body part, who knows? Just as well to slow down and see.