Friday's Dispatch

From the recent butterfly thing at the Botanic Gardens

• There are apocryphal urban legends about welfare recipients attempting to buy dog food with food stamps and after being told that it's not allowed saying, Looks like the pooch is having steak tonight! and returning to the meat counter to get steaks for Fido- like I said,  Urban legend but, it's bound to have happened at least once.
• The only workable, street legal version of a flying car is more of a dune buggy and is a paraplane. Past attempts at flying cars were essentially a meld of an airplane and a car that did neither very well.
• I stop dead in my tracks still when I see my tri color desert camouflage uniform in the closet. It's there pressed, heavy starched and wrapped in plastic like it's ready and waiting for another tour.
• Another recent Iraq flashback: I found my very cool first aid kit I made and equipped myself during downtime by taking a general purpose, zippered bag from Blackhawk and attaching locking straps from a sleeping bag to the back. I could then then run my uniform belt through the pouch MOLLE loops and wrap the straps around my thigh. It was filled with pressure dressings, tourniquet, scissors, needles, forceps- a lot of important stuff right there at your fingertips. The first day I wore it I treated someone with a mangled hand and another with a head injury. When I came across it the other day I opened it to take a look at the contents and when I did the first thing I saw was a pair of scissors covered in blood wrapped in a latex glove. The metallic smell of blood and dirt absolutely enveloped me. Since I used it more than once and it would be very unlike me to put tools back in the bag dirty it took me a second to remember what might have happened- then it hit me. While prepping a casualty for evacuation I was holding the patients arm up while applying pressure and wrapping it with gauze with the other hand and asked a buddy to pick the scissors up and drop them in my bag.  Hmm- OK Sarge but, they're kind of grody and covered in blood and guts and stuff.  he said. I turned to the side and said, Here in my pocket- there's latex gloves. He stuck his hand down my pocket and said, Nope there's nothing in there.  Oh, it must be in this one.  I said and turned to the other side.  Are you sure I'm digging in your pockets for gloves there, sarge?  He said as he began rifling through the pocket I presented for the next search.  Whoa! I yelped as I jumped back still holding the patients arm as my bud brushed my man junk with his hand.  Sorry, thought that was what you were hoping for there sarge- anyway, never mind me and take care of your patient.
• What a Jack O Lantern.
• One of my favorite bands doing one of my favorite songs- ladies and gentlemen Chevelle performing Vitamin R