Frito Pie!

Today, in our company cafeteria, I was reminded of a discussion the The Lizard and I had concerning school lunches several years ago:

What was your favorite? What was your most despised? I fondly remembered Frito Pie.

The Lizard stared at me, blankly, and asked "What is Frito Pie?"

I was stunned, but then remembered -- The Lizard was a Yankee by birth (her Republic visa yearly renewed due to matrimonial status). The people above the Mason-Dixon never dreamed of eating black eyed peas and cornbread, let alone the ultimate in Texan delicacies, The Frito Pie, so I described the dish to my Yankee bride, and her eyes widened.

"They feed children that?!" She cried, aghast.

I assured her that, compared to the vapors wafting off of the chemical plants in my hometown, ingesting Frito corn chips covered in chili, cheese and onions was a very healthy endeavor. Quite good too, if you could burn off the 1500 calories the small dish provided (not a problem for active children of my youth -- maybe a big problem for today's kids).

Still, she seemed skeptical, and I had to enlist the help of one of my fellow citizens of The Republic to explain that:

1. Yes, this dish does exist.
2. It is fed to school children to this day.
3. There are two major varieties: the 'school lunch' version (served on a plastic tray) and the 'ballpark' version (where the Frito is skinned fresh in the field, and the chili poured, hot and steaming, into the carcass).

I have yet to get The Lizard to enjoy a meal of Frito Pie, and I doubt I ever will. Same holds true for chicken-fried steak and cream gravy.

I have higher hopes for the black eyed peas, however... complete with bacon drippin's, of course...

HALO, MIA

Gunny was worried. The young Private had been missing for several hours. The search had turned up only an open hatch on the forward hangar deck. Something was fishy, and unlike normal, it wasn't The Private's breath.

The sergeant was a proud marine, so it was a tough duty to inform the Captain and the Admiral upon their return to the ship of the young soldier being MIA. The two officers, realizing the seriousness of the situation considering the youth of the private, moved into action.

The Captain, a man of action, immediately took the cargo shuttle out to search the area. He hoped he wouldn't find any debris or bodies in his search, but as his grid widened, he started to fear the worst. Grimly he stayed on task in the cold harsh vacuum.

Back at the ship, The Admiral contacted the commanders of the rest of the fleet, requesting assistance in the search. Navy and marine personnel sprung into action, searching for their missing comrade.

Knowing that she had done what she could to initiate the search for The Private, The Admiral decided to investigate any clues on the ship which might shed light on the details of the disappearance. Channeling the abilities of Old Earth's Gil Grissom, The Admiral pieced together what must have happened. Gazing out the open hangar door, The Admiral looked down at the planet far below, blanketed in night. She quickly ran a scan of the ground, and found the tell-tale marks of landing pad imprints in the soil made soft from rain showers the day earlier. The imprints were deep.

Had The Private, untrained and guided only by youthful enthusiasm, attempted an unauthorized HALO jump from such an extreme altitude? All the evidence pointed to this, and The Admiral's blood chilled as she feared The Private's inexperience could have led to problems on the landing... and thus a lost and injured marine down in hostile territory.

The search continued. One squad led by Corporal Dexter Attwell had spotted a small force moving planet side. They closed to investigate, hailing the unknowns. They received a friendly reply: it was a allied patrol. Dex inquired about their lost private, asking nonchalantly if they had any spare marines. The helmsman's eyes brightened as word returned that they indeed had a spare marine! The Private was with them -- she had hooked up after an extensive recon in the dumpster zone, and a brief surveillance of the Canine forces.

The allied patrol moved into formation with Dex, and they all returned to the main body of the fleet. The Admiral was relieved, thanking the allied patrol for helping one of her own. The Captain turned his heavy cargo vessel on a dime when he heard the news over the com and headed back to the fleet. He didn't know whether he was going to hug or throttle The Private, but at least he had that option.

The Gunny, however, knew exactly what she was going to do. After a stern reprimand, and thorough debriefing, she sent The Private scurrying to her bunk! Secretly, Gunny was smiling at The Private's adventures, and the pride that she had so many comrades who were not willing to leave a man behind!

Rodeo Run Finish

February 24 -- Premiere 10K for The Lizard and I. Darkened skies threatened, but made for a comfortable run.

Leisurely pace and a good time. Joined by Seabiscuit, a Scottish Leprechaun, and a Dutch Aussie.

Carver, Kirk 3300 01:01:47.95
Carver, Elizabeth 3301 01:01:47.75
Forrester, Dean 509 01:38:13
Tulloch, Lynsae 510 01:38:14.15
Kubik, John 4179 00:48:18.75

(Finish line video on the links)

The Rodeo Runners

Dean, Liz, and Lynsae - ConocoPhillips 10k

Can't... breathe. Must... open... window...

I woke on the couch. The girls were eerily quiet - no snores, no grunts. 2 am. Something was wrong.

I realized my eyes were burning. The air was stagnant and pungent. An odor crept downstairs. My fogged brain searched for the right action.

Stumbling, I struggled to the window. Old paint impeded my efforts. Finally the seal gave way, and the upper pane slid down. Fresh air wafted in from the cool, damp night. A second window, and a breeze made its way across the first floor.

We were saved.

Who had tried to poison us in the night?



Remind me to spend the night at a hotel room if we ever have the floors resurfaced again....

The shame of the IncanDragon

I frankly can't stand the word "blog". It is unpleasing on the tongue, and the practice is a bit... self aggrandizing.

Still, when my oldest friend bravely left for the West, without Frodo, but with trusty companions nonetheless, I thought it only honorable to grant her final request and begin a Weblog of my own.

Perhaps this will spur my writing back to life again. I would hope that I could be half as good at this endeavor as is my old friend...

http://incandragon.livejournal.com/