• Location: New London, CT
• Mood: refreshed
• Music: Crossfade - Already Gone

Still alive and kicking...

The month of May lived up to the billing I gave it at the outset ("a month of total butt rape"). It concluded with a much needed and well-deserved respite. And it couldn't have come at a better time, with the Submersible Death Trap gearing up to head to sea for its first underway as a truly operational boat in nearly a full year. Though I had yesterday and today off, I still had to go down there to pack out my rack. I would have liked to have been able to do that last week, but the berthing bill (paper that says where everyone is sleeping) wasn't posted until Friday afternoon. I wasn't going to bring my stuff down only to have to move it into a new rack. It is unfortunately the case that a failure on the part of senior leadership does constitute a loss of liberty for me. When we're under the sea, this is the place I call "home":

In addition to the locker at the upper left, the rack lifts up and the majority of one's things are stored underneath (the "rack pan"). The large padlocked locker is not for my use. So what do you take on an underway? Here's what I brought down today, or will be going down with me tomorrow morning:

• 10 white t-shirts
  
• 10 pairs of boxers
  
• 12 pairs of socks (six black, six white)
  
• 2 sets of utilities
  
• 3 coveralls
  
• PT gear - a shirt, shorts, and sneakers ("underway shoes")
  
• 2 civilian shirts
  
• 2 pairs of shorts
  
• 2 towels
  
• toiletries
  
• sunscreen (I learned this lesson the hard way in Guam)
  
• sleeping bag
  
• DVDs...all of them
  
• a couple of books (see also below)
  
• And this computer.

I've got three books to read for the underway. Two of them were given to me by Ryan for my birthday. They are Stephen Chobsky's The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan. Both these works come with interesting stories, and while I don't think they're up my usual alley, I expect them to be interesting reads. The third is a novel that I should have known about before yesterday, and one I just had to run out and pick up this afternoon: Chasing Harry Winston, Lauren Weisberger's latest. I've read both her previous books twice; last February, I gushed here about how much I enjoyed them. This is probably the first of my three reads that I'll tackle.

Getting paid on Friday ended the financial "crunch" I'd endured throughout most of the month. As it happens, I got two checks from my old apartment complex late last week. One was the security deposit, and the other is likely the interest from that deposit, although it seems like an unusually large amount given the size of the deposit we paid. On top of this money, I experienced some fortune at the blackjack table. It's never a bad thing to walk into Mohegan Sun with two hundred American dollars and leave with twice that amount. All this enables me to get my saving back on track.

As I sit here writing and watching the Dodgers and Mets square off at Shea Stadium, an insidious advertisement repeatedly intrudes on my conscience. It's a commercial for the BabyBaby music - and I assure you it has nothing to do with Amy Grant. The song and the lyrics are annoying, the chick singing it has a grating voice, and the slow-motion footage of the little kids playing puts me off for a reason that I can't quite articulate.

Since we're going underway, tfo is going dark for a while. But while I may not be posting for a bit, I'll certainly be writing, having my trusty computer alongside me. There'll be plenty of time to opine on underway life, and to bitch about how I'm missing out on the most anticipated NBA Finals in twenty-one years. Until then, I'll leave you with a shot that is very telling about submarines: