USMB Coffee Shop IV

[Big Black Dog]

Chicken - yum. The wings and legs are my favorite parts. The rest is just chicken.

 

[Derideo_Te]

I wonder if I ever told you the story of how I wound up in a Puerto Rican hospital? It was only one night, for observation, but it was a different experience than what I anticipated.

I had a project at the Naval Air Station Roosevelt Roads in lovely Cieba, Puerto Rico. I was there for 18 months. My job was to find out why the three waste water (sewage treatment plants) were treating 5 million gallons a day between them on sunny days and 12.5 million gallons on rainy days. There must have been a leak or two that let in all that rain water. It's expensive to treat 5 million gallons daily, let alone treat rainfall too, especially in a rainy climate like the northern Caribbean.

So, I went to work to find the problems. Every day I video taped sewer lines looking for cracks and root infestation. I inspected manholes for leaks. I assessed the pavement to assure the run off from the roads and streets did not guide excess water into the systems. And yes, my Ohio bound friends and colleagues thought I was off to some exotic place living la vida loco and luxuriating in the bright lights and glamor of sunny Puerto Rico.

The United States Navy owns the base. I have all the respect in the world for the sailors and officers and Marines stationed there. But the Navy itself is a notoriously bad land lord. The Navy uses every square inch of the massive base, until they don't. And when the Navy is finished, they just walk away.

The Navy walked away from one area that uses up about 3/4 square miles of the base back after VE Day in 1945. The foundations of the buildings used in that era were still intact, but little else. The vacant buildings were being taken over by the tropical jungle. This meant that floor drains and sewer connections were out in the open, sucking up rainfall and channeling it into the sewer system. I thought that I found the Machu Piccu of sewer infiltration! As I looked around this long lost area of Navy buildings built to defend the Panama Canal, I noted every inlet I could see. But it was the uncovered manhole I could not see that landed me in sick bay.

I had a native Puerto Rican with me to act as scribe and jungle guide. The only common language between us was baseball and we exchanged line ups from our favorite MLB teams. I was reciting the Pirates starting line up from their World Championship season of 1979. As I recalled Al Oliver, I looked over my shoulder and took one too many steps. It was just how Wile E. Coyote planned it for the roadrunner. The manhole cover had been off since the Eisenhower administration and the jungle had covered it with palm fronds. One too many steps and down goes Nosmo!

I fell forward and caught the concrete lip of the manhole with my rib cage. Not able to secure a grip with my side, I slid down into the manhole, six and a half feet deep. And that's where the Navy EMS crew found me 45 minutes later. My Puerto Rican guide assured me he would be right back with help, or he was reciting the Atlanta Braves 1988 starting line up, I could not be sure.

Those horse collar lifting apparatuses used by the Coast Guard and Navy rescue crews are effective and quick whenever they rescue folks without broken ribs. I can tell you that the horse collar gizmo can be regarded as a means of torture should you have a broken rib cage when used properly.

But, out I came, bruised, battered and sore. Off to the hospital for x-rays confirming what I already knew, I had three ribs broken and a lump on the back of my noggin that concerned the hospital staff. The next day, I was released and told by EVERYONE from the medicos at the hospital to my boss in Pittsburgh to take it easy for a couple days. There was a hammock near my apartment there and a guy selling iced cold cocoanuts to which rum could be added easily. I took everyone's advice and stayed put.

But, but, but...you left out the most important part of all!

Did you fix the leak?

 

[Nosmo King]

I wonder if I ever told you the story of how I wound up in a Puerto Rican hospital? It was only one night, for observation, but it was a different experience than what I anticipated.

I had a project at the Naval Air Station Roosevelt Roads in lovely Cieba, Puerto Rico. I was there for 18 months. My job was to find out why the three waste water (sewage treatment plants) were treating 5 million gallons a day between them on sunny days and 12.5 million gallons on rainy days. There must have been a leak or two that let in all that rain water. It's expensive to treat 5 million gallons daily, let alone treat rainfall too, especially in a rainy climate like the northern Caribbean.

So, I went to work to find the problems. Every day I video taped sewer lines looking for cracks and root infestation. I inspected manholes for leaks. I assessed the pavement to assure the run off from the roads and streets did not guide excess water into the systems. And yes, my Ohio bound friends and colleagues thought I was off to some exotic place living la vida loco and luxuriating in the bright lights and glamor of sunny Puerto Rico.

The United States Navy owns the base. I have all the respect in the world for the sailors and officers and Marines stationed there. But the Navy itself is a notoriously bad land lord. The Navy uses every square inch of the massive base, until they don't. And when the Navy is finished, they just walk away.

The Navy walked away from one area that uses up about 3/4 square miles of the base back after VE Day in 1945. The foundations of the buildings used in that era were still intact, but little else. The vacant buildings were being taken over by the tropical jungle. This meant that floor drains and sewer connections were out in the open, sucking up rainfall and channeling it into the sewer system. I thought that I found the Machu Piccu of sewer infiltration! As I looked around this long lost area of Navy buildings built to defend the Panama Canal, I noted every inlet I could see. But it was the uncovered manhole I could not see that landed me in sick bay.

I had a native Puerto Rican with me to act as scribe and jungle guide. The only common language between us was baseball and we exchanged line ups from our favorite MLB teams. I was reciting the Pirates starting line up from their World Championship season of 1979. As I recalled Al Oliver, I looked over my shoulder and took one too many steps. It was just how Wile E. Coyote planned it for the roadrunner. The manhole cover had been off since the Eisenhower administration and the jungle had covered it with palm fronds. One too many steps and down goes Nosmo!

I fell forward and caught the concrete lip of the manhole with my rib cage. Not able to secure a grip with my side, I slid down into the manhole, six and a half feet deep. And that's where the Navy EMS crew found me 45 minutes later. My Puerto Rican guide assured me he would be right back with help, or he was reciting the Atlanta Braves 1988 starting line up, I could not be sure.

Those horse collar lifting apparatuses used by the Coast Guard and Navy rescue crews are effective and quick whenever they rescue folks without broken ribs. I can tell you that the horse collar gizmo can be regarded as a means of torture should you have a broken rib cage when used properly.

But, out I came, bruised, battered and sore. Off to the hospital for x-rays confirming what I already knew, I had three ribs broken and a lump on the back of my noggin that concerned the hospital staff. The next day, I was released and told by EVERYONE from the medicos at the hospital to my boss in Pittsburgh to take it easy for a couple days. There was a hammock near my apartment there and a guy selling iced cold cocoanuts to which rum could be added easily. I took everyone's advice and stayed put.

But, but, but...you left out the most important part of all!

Did you fix the leak?

I brought a subcontractor down from Pennsylvania. they had a couple of grout trucks to seal the pipes from the inside and a crew to raise manhole covers on the streets. The Seabees cleared the roadway leading to 'Machu Piccu' and then proceeded to bull doze every scrap of rotted wood and rusty metal from the area.

When all the shouting stopped, the three waste water treatment plants were working on sewage only! The variation in flow on rainy days fell from 7.5 million gallons a day to under 500,000! Although that still sounds like a lot of leakage, it is below the acceptable limits for inflow/infiltration over an area that large.

 

[Big Black Dog]

I wonder if I ever told you the story of how I wound up in a Puerto Rican hospital? It was only one night, for observation, but it was a different experience than what I anticipated.

I had a project at the Naval Air Station Roosevelt Roads in lovely Cieba, Puerto Rico. I was there for 18 months. My job was to find out why the three waste water (sewage treatment plants) were treating 5 million gallons a day between them on sunny days and 12.5 million gallons on rainy days. There must have been a leak or two that let in all that rain water. It's expensive to treat 5 million gallons daily, let alone treat rainfall too, especially in a rainy climate like the northern Caribbean.

So, I went to work to find the problems. Every day I video taped sewer lines looking for cracks and root infestation. I inspected manholes for leaks. I assessed the pavement to assure the run off from the roads and streets did not guide excess water into the systems. And yes, my Ohio bound friends and colleagues thought I was off to some exotic place living la vida loco and luxuriating in the bright lights and glamor of sunny Puerto Rico.

The United States Navy owns the base. I have all the respect in the world for the sailors and officers and Marines stationed there. But the Navy itself is a notoriously bad land lord. The Navy uses every square inch of the massive base, until they don't. And when the Navy is finished, they just walk away.

The Navy walked away from one area that uses up about 3/4 square miles of the base back after VE Day in 1945. The foundations of the buildings used in that era were still intact, but little else. The vacant buildings were being taken over by the tropical jungle. This meant that floor drains and sewer connections were out in the open, sucking up rainfall and channeling it into the sewer system. I thought that I found the Machu Piccu of sewer infiltration! As I looked around this long lost area of Navy buildings built to defend the Panama Canal, I noted every inlet I could see. But it was the uncovered manhole I could not see that landed me in sick bay.

I had a native Puerto Rican with me to act as scribe and jungle guide. The only common language between us was baseball and we exchanged line ups from our favorite MLB teams. I was reciting the Pirates starting line up from their World Championship season of 1979. As I recalled Al Oliver, I looked over my shoulder and took one too many steps. It was just how Wile E. Coyote planned it for the roadrunner. The manhole cover had been off since the Eisenhower administration and the jungle had covered it with palm fronds. One too many steps and down goes Nosmo!

I fell forward and caught the concrete lip of the manhole with my rib cage. Not able to secure a grip with my side, I slid down into the manhole, six and a half feet deep. And that's where the Navy EMS crew found me 45 minutes later. My Puerto Rican guide assured me he would be right back with help, or he was reciting the Atlanta Braves 1988 starting line up, I could not be sure.

Those horse collar lifting apparatuses used by the Coast Guard and Navy rescue crews are effective and quick whenever they rescue folks without broken ribs. I can tell you that the horse collar gizmo can be regarded as a means of torture should you have a broken rib cage when used properly.

But, out I came, bruised, battered and sore. Off to the hospital for x-rays confirming what I already knew, I had three ribs broken and a lump on the back of my noggin that concerned the hospital staff. The next day, I was released and told by EVERYONE from the medicos at the hospital to my boss in Pittsburgh to take it easy for a couple days. There was a hammock near my apartment there and a guy selling iced cold cocoanuts to which rum could be added easily. I took everyone's advice and stayed put.

Good 'ole Roosevelt Roads... Been there, done that. I have pulled into that place many times when I was in the Navy. The last time I was the Chief Hospital Corpsman on a FF and a crew member had fallen down a ladder onboard the ship just hours before we were due to pull into there for a brief port call. He broke his leg. So, when the ship pulled up to the pier, there was an ambulance waiting and we took him over to the hospital. Poor guy got back to the States before we did. Roosevelt Roads is a great duty station except during hurricane season.

 

[Spoonman]

[ame=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l-w-mWhIWEM#ws]That's A Moron - Parody of Dean Martin "That's Amore" by Al Mahan - YouTube[/ame]


very funny

 

[Darkwind]

 

[Big Black Dog]

 

[Nosmo King]

I wonder if I ever told you the story of how I wound up in a Puerto Rican hospital? It was only one night, for observation, but it was a different experience than what I anticipated.

I had a project at the Naval Air Station Roosevelt Roads in lovely Cieba, Puerto Rico. I was there for 18 months. My job was to find out why the three waste water (sewage treatment plants) were treating 5 million gallons a day between them on sunny days and 12.5 million gallons on rainy days. There must have been a leak or two that let in all that rain water. It's expensive to treat 5 million gallons daily, let alone treat rainfall too, especially in a rainy climate like the northern Caribbean.

So, I went to work to find the problems. Every day I video taped sewer lines looking for cracks and root infestation. I inspected manholes for leaks. I assessed the pavement to assure the run off from the roads and streets did not guide excess water into the systems. And yes, my Ohio bound friends and colleagues thought I was off to some exotic place living la vida loco and luxuriating in the bright lights and glamor of sunny Puerto Rico.

The United States Navy owns the base. I have all the respect in the world for the sailors and officers and Marines stationed there. But the Navy itself is a notoriously bad land lord. The Navy uses every square inch of the massive base, until they don't. And when the Navy is finished, they just walk away.

The Navy walked away from one area that uses up about 3/4 square miles of the base back after VE Day in 1945. The foundations of the buildings used in that era were still intact, but little else. The vacant buildings were being taken over by the tropical jungle. This meant that floor drains and sewer connections were out in the open, sucking up rainfall and channeling it into the sewer system. I thought that I found the Machu Piccu of sewer infiltration! As I looked around this long lost area of Navy buildings built to defend the Panama Canal, I noted every inlet I could see. But it was the uncovered manhole I could not see that landed me in sick bay.

I had a native Puerto Rican with me to act as scribe and jungle guide. The only common language between us was baseball and we exchanged line ups from our favorite MLB teams. I was reciting the Pirates starting line up from their World Championship season of 1979. As I recalled Al Oliver, I looked over my shoulder and took one too many steps. It was just how Wile E. Coyote planned it for the roadrunner. The manhole cover had been off since the Eisenhower administration and the jungle had covered it with palm fronds. One too many steps and down goes Nosmo!

I fell forward and caught the concrete lip of the manhole with my rib cage. Not able to secure a grip with my side, I slid down into the manhole, six and a half feet deep. And that's where the Navy EMS crew found me 45 minutes later. My Puerto Rican guide assured me he would be right back with help, or he was reciting the Atlanta Braves 1988 starting line up, I could not be sure.

Those horse collar lifting apparatuses used by the Coast Guard and Navy rescue crews are effective and quick whenever they rescue folks without broken ribs. I can tell you that the horse collar gizmo can be regarded as a means of torture should you have a broken rib cage when used properly.

But, out I came, bruised, battered and sore. Off to the hospital for x-rays confirming what I already knew, I had three ribs broken and a lump on the back of my noggin that concerned the hospital staff. The next day, I was released and told by EVERYONE from the medicos at the hospital to my boss in Pittsburgh to take it easy for a couple days. There was a hammock near my apartment there and a guy selling iced cold cocoanuts to which rum could be added easily. I took everyone's advice and stayed put.

Good 'ole Roosevelt Roads... Been there, done that. I have pulled into that place many times when I was in the Navy. The last time I was the Chief Hospital Corpsman on a FF and a crew member had fallen down a ladder onboard the ship just hours before we were due to pull into there for a brief port call. He broke his leg. So, when the ship pulled up to the pier, there was an ambulance waiting and we took him over to the hospital. Poor guy got back to the States before we did. Roosevelt Roads is a great duty station except during hurricane season.

I have a couple questions, BBD. First, what's an FF? Second, was the whorehouse a block from the North Gate still in operation? Third, have you ever golfed Roosevelt Roads? And finally, I've been to Hampton Roads and Roosevelt Roads but I still don't know why such ocean front bases are called "Roads"?

 

[Derideo_Te]

I wonder if I ever told you the story of how I wound up in a Puerto Rican hospital? It was only one night, for observation, but it was a different experience than what I anticipated.

I had a project at the Naval Air Station Roosevelt Roads in lovely Cieba, Puerto Rico. I was there for 18 months. My job was to find out why the three waste water (sewage treatment plants) were treating 5 million gallons a day between them on sunny days and 12.5 million gallons on rainy days. There must have been a leak or two that let in all that rain water. It's expensive to treat 5 million gallons daily, let alone treat rainfall too, especially in a rainy climate like the northern Caribbean.

So, I went to work to find the problems. Every day I video taped sewer lines looking for cracks and root infestation. I inspected manholes for leaks. I assessed the pavement to assure the run off from the roads and streets did not guide excess water into the systems. And yes, my Ohio bound friends and colleagues thought I was off to some exotic place living la vida loco and luxuriating in the bright lights and glamor of sunny Puerto Rico.

The United States Navy owns the base. I have all the respect in the world for the sailors and officers and Marines stationed there. But the Navy itself is a notoriously bad land lord. The Navy uses every square inch of the massive base, until they don't. And when the Navy is finished, they just walk away.

The Navy walked away from one area that uses up about 3/4 square miles of the base back after VE Day in 1945. The foundations of the buildings used in that era were still intact, but little else. The vacant buildings were being taken over by the tropical jungle. This meant that floor drains and sewer connections were out in the open, sucking up rainfall and channeling it into the sewer system. I thought that I found the Machu Piccu of sewer infiltration! As I looked around this long lost area of Navy buildings built to defend the Panama Canal, I noted every inlet I could see. But it was the uncovered manhole I could not see that landed me in sick bay.

I had a native Puerto Rican with me to act as scribe and jungle guide. The only common language between us was baseball and we exchanged line ups from our favorite MLB teams. I was reciting the Pirates starting line up from their World Championship season of 1979. As I recalled Al Oliver, I looked over my shoulder and took one too many steps. It was just how Wile E. Coyote planned it for the roadrunner. The manhole cover had been off since the Eisenhower administration and the jungle had covered it with palm fronds. One too many steps and down goes Nosmo!

I fell forward and caught the concrete lip of the manhole with my rib cage. Not able to secure a grip with my side, I slid down into the manhole, six and a half feet deep. And that's where the Navy EMS crew found me 45 minutes later. My Puerto Rican guide assured me he would be right back with help, or he was reciting the Atlanta Braves 1988 starting line up, I could not be sure.

Those horse collar lifting apparatuses used by the Coast Guard and Navy rescue crews are effective and quick whenever they rescue folks without broken ribs. I can tell you that the horse collar gizmo can be regarded as a means of torture should you have a broken rib cage when used properly.

But, out I came, bruised, battered and sore. Off to the hospital for x-rays confirming what I already knew, I had three ribs broken and a lump on the back of my noggin that concerned the hospital staff. The next day, I was released and told by EVERYONE from the medicos at the hospital to my boss in Pittsburgh to take it easy for a couple days. There was a hammock near my apartment there and a guy selling iced cold cocoanuts to which rum could be added easily. I took everyone's advice and stayed put.

Good 'ole Roosevelt Roads... Been there, done that. I have pulled into that place many times when I was in the Navy. The last time I was the Chief Hospital Corpsman on a FF and a crew member had fallen down a ladder onboard the ship just hours before we were due to pull into there for a brief port call. He broke his leg. So, when the ship pulled up to the pier, there was an ambulance waiting and we took him over to the hospital. Poor guy got back to the States before we did. Roosevelt Roads is a great duty station except during hurricane season.

I have a couple questions, BBD. First, what's an FF? Second, was the whorehouse a block from the North Gate still in operation? Third, have you ever golfed Roosevelt Roads? And finally, I've been to Hampton Roads and Roosevelt Roads but I still don't know why such ocean front bases are called "Roads"?

Probably because it was commonplace to call sea routes "sea roads" in the days of sailing ships. We still use the term "shipping lanes" today.

 

[Big Black Dog]

I wonder if I ever told you the story of how I wound up in a Puerto Rican hospital? It was only one night, for observation, but it was a different experience than what I anticipated.

I had a project at the Naval Air Station Roosevelt Roads in lovely Cieba, Puerto Rico. I was there for 18 months. My job was to find out why the three waste water (sewage treatment plants) were treating 5 million gallons a day between them on sunny days and 12.5 million gallons on rainy days. There must have been a leak or two that let in all that rain water. It's expensive to treat 5 million gallons daily, let alone treat rainfall too, especially in a rainy climate like the northern Caribbean.

So, I went to work to find the problems. Every day I video taped sewer lines looking for cracks and root infestation. I inspected manholes for leaks. I assessed the pavement to assure the run off from the roads and streets did not guide excess water into the systems. And yes, my Ohio bound friends and colleagues thought I was off to some exotic place living la vida loco and luxuriating in the bright lights and glamor of sunny Puerto Rico.

The United States Navy owns the base. I have all the respect in the world for the sailors and officers and Marines stationed there. But the Navy itself is a notoriously bad land lord. The Navy uses every square inch of the massive base, until they don't. And when the Navy is finished, they just walk away.

The Navy walked away from one area that uses up about 3/4 square miles of the base back after VE Day in 1945. The foundations of the buildings used in that era were still intact, but little else. The vacant buildings were being taken over by the tropical jungle. This meant that floor drains and sewer connections were out in the open, sucking up rainfall and channeling it into the sewer system. I thought that I found the Machu Piccu of sewer infiltration! As I looked around this long lost area of Navy buildings built to defend the Panama Canal, I noted every inlet I could see. But it was the uncovered manhole I could not see that landed me in sick bay.

I had a native Puerto Rican with me to act as scribe and jungle guide. The only common language between us was baseball and we exchanged line ups from our favorite MLB teams. I was reciting the Pirates starting line up from their World Championship season of 1979. As I recalled Al Oliver, I looked over my shoulder and took one too many steps. It was just how Wile E. Coyote planned it for the roadrunner. The manhole cover had been off since the Eisenhower administration and the jungle had covered it with palm fronds. One too many steps and down goes Nosmo!

I fell forward and caught the concrete lip of the manhole with my rib cage. Not able to secure a grip with my side, I slid down into the manhole, six and a half feet deep. And that's where the Navy EMS crew found me 45 minutes later. My Puerto Rican guide assured me he would be right back with help, or he was reciting the Atlanta Braves 1988 starting line up, I could not be sure.

Those horse collar lifting apparatuses used by the Coast Guard and Navy rescue crews are effective and quick whenever they rescue folks without broken ribs. I can tell you that the horse collar gizmo can be regarded as a means of torture should you have a broken rib cage when used properly.

But, out I came, bruised, battered and sore. Off to the hospital for x-rays confirming what I already knew, I had three ribs broken and a lump on the back of my noggin that concerned the hospital staff. The next day, I was released and told by EVERYONE from the medicos at the hospital to my boss in Pittsburgh to take it easy for a couple days. There was a hammock near my apartment there and a guy selling iced cold cocoanuts to which rum could be added easily. I took everyone's advice and stayed put.

Good 'ole Roosevelt Roads... Been there, done that. I have pulled into that place many times when I was in the Navy. The last time I was the Chief Hospital Corpsman on a FF and a crew member had fallen down a ladder onboard the ship just hours before we were due to pull into there for a brief port call. He broke his leg. So, when the ship pulled up to the pier, there was an ambulance waiting and we took him over to the hospital. Poor guy got back to the States before we did. Roosevelt Roads is a great duty station except during hurricane season.

I have a couple questions, BBD. First, what's an FF? Second, was the whorehouse a block from the North Gate still in operation? Third, have you ever golfed Roosevelt Roads? And finally, I've been to Hampton Roads and Roosevelt Roads but I still don't know why such ocean front bases are called "Roads"?

A FF is a small Navy war ship about the same size as a destroyer. Can't say about the whorehouse... never been off base at Roosevelt Roads. They had enough cold beer to keep me happy on base. Sorry, don't play golf. The only thing worse than playing golf, in my mind, would be to play soccer. Don't know why places are named "Roads" such as Hampton Roads and Roosevelt Roads. However, I was raised in Suffolk, VA not very far away from Hampton Roads and know the area well - well, 30 years ago I knew Hampton well. I'm sure there have been many changes.

 

[Nosmo King]

Good 'ole Roosevelt Roads... Been there, done that. I have pulled into that place many times when I was in the Navy. The last time I was the Chief Hospital Corpsman on a FF and a crew member had fallen down a ladder onboard the ship just hours before we were due to pull into there for a brief port call. He broke his leg. So, when the ship pulled up to the pier, there was an ambulance waiting and we took him over to the hospital. Poor guy got back to the States before we did. Roosevelt Roads is a great duty station except during hurricane season.

I have a couple questions, BBD. First, what's an FF? Second, was the whorehouse a block from the North Gate still in operation? Third, have you ever golfed Roosevelt Roads? And finally, I've been to Hampton Roads and Roosevelt Roads but I still don't know why such ocean front bases are called "Roads"?

A FF is a small Navy war ship about the same size as a destroyer. Can't say about the whorehouse... never been off base at Roosevelt Roads. They had enough cold beer to keep me happy on base. Sorry, don't play golf. The only thing worse than playing golf, in my mind, would be to play soccer. Don't know why places are named "Roads" such as Hampton Roads and Roosevelt Roads. However, I was raised in Suffolk, VA not very far away from Hampton Roads and know the area well - well, 30 years ago I knew Hampton well. I'm sure there have been many changes.

Thanks for the information. But playing golf and playing soccer are two polar opposites. To play soccer, as I understand it, one must run and run a lot. Golf, on the other hand, is thought of as a 'sport'. But any sport you can catch a smoke and down a cold one during the actual 'play', ain't much of a sport. Like bowling or horseshoes, golf is a leisurely pastime. Soccer is effort.

 

[Ringel05]

Yup, FF is the post-1975 class code for a Frigate.

As old as BBD is he was probably on one of these first........

 

[Ringel05]

Good 'ole Roosevelt Roads... Been there, done that. I have pulled into that place many times when I was in the Navy. The last time I was the Chief Hospital Corpsman on a FF and a crew member had fallen down a ladder onboard the ship just hours before we were due to pull into there for a brief port call. He broke his leg. So, when the ship pulled up to the pier, there was an ambulance waiting and we took him over to the hospital. Poor guy got back to the States before we did. Roosevelt Roads is a great duty station except during hurricane season.

I have a couple questions, BBD. First, what's an FF? Second, was the whorehouse a block from the North Gate still in operation? Third, have you ever golfed Roosevelt Roads? And finally, I've been to Hampton Roads and Roosevelt Roads but I still don't know why such ocean front bases are called "Roads"?

Probably because it was commonplace to call sea routes "sea roads" in the days of sailing ships. We still use the term "shipping lanes" today.

The original name was Southampton’s Roadstead, named after The Earl of Southampton.

Roadstead is old English for 'protected harbor'.

 

[Foxfyre]

Okay, this is genius. Absolute genius:

BUT. . . .

Hombre and I spent quite a few years doing safety inspections in all manner of settings and we recommended hand holds and hand rails on indoor and out door steps and step ups again and again and again. And they still aren't listening to us.

 

[Sarah G]

Okay, this is genius. Absolute genius:

BUT. . . .

Hombre and I spent quite a few years doing safety inspections in all manner of settings and we recommended hand holds and hand rails on indoor and out door steps and step ups again and again and again. And they still aren't listening to us.

It's funny when I'm going up or down stairs, I only touch lightly on handrails but when there aren't any handrails, I feel much less safe and out of balance. It gets in your head when they aren't there.

 

[Bloodrock44]

[MENTION=6847]Foxfyre[/MENTION] Mama...have you heard from Becki?

 

[Statistikhengst]

Morning folks! Today is National Chicken Wing Day. I know one place (a familiar place ... ) that is offering All-U-Can-Eat wings just for today at $12.99. At that price, it's a steal. I know where I'm having lunch today...

Jugs I swear you make these things up... hey when is national Eggplant Parmesean day? Soon I hope.

Have to admit I've never ever understood the whole wing thing. Out of all the parts of a chicken, centering on the smallest, scrawniest, boniest, least-meatiest piece makes no sense when you've got luscious legs... breasts... thighs... what happens to all the remaining parts while we obsess over wings anyway? Is there some alternate universe where they have leg days and breast days with what we don't use?

I dunno, it's like when they tried to market "thin crust pizza" -- as if less food for the same price is more attractive.

Yesssss....

 

[Statistikhengst]

On this day in history July 29. . .

In 1981 – Charles, Prince of Wales, and Lady Diana Spencer were married at St. Paul's Cathedral in London. It was the most famous and most watched wedding in all of history with a worldwide television audience of an estimated 1 billion people. Needless to say, it was an event of which story books are written but as we all know did not result in happily ever after or have a story book ending. We will hope a much happier life for William and Kate.

Also on this day in 1987 – British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and President of France François Mitterrand sign the agreement to build the Eurotunnel under the English Channel or as affectionately known, the 'Chunnel'. Construction would not begin until 1988 and it would be completed on time in October 1990. It was an amazing engineering feat culminating a vision that had actually been on the drawing boards over the years since 1802.

I have travelled through the Chunnel via train on a number of occasions. Weird feeling knowing how much water is around you when you are going through that thing...

 

[Statistikhengst]

Okay, this is genius. Absolute genius:

BUT. . . .

Hombre and I spent quite a few years doing safety inspections in all manner of settings and we recommended hand holds and hand rails on indoor and out door steps and step ups again and again and again. And they still aren't listening to us.

My grandparents in Middletown, OH, has a staircase set up pretty much identical to that, without a railing, until my grandma fell once. And then a railing was attached. The wood was a different color, but there were drawers built into it, just as pictured here.

 

[Pogo]

Did I mention what the only thing I have more than blackberries is?

I planted 4 eggplant plants and they have been very prolific. I'm the only one that likes eggplant....so I'm having to eat one every day......and still, many will have to go into the compost bin.

That's a crying shame, it saddens me to see food go to waste ...

Eggplant is a unique food in that if you haven't eaten it before, you may or may not like it depending on how it's cooked. If you bread it and deep fry the eggplant, it's quite good. Same for eggplant parmigiana. You can make eggplant parmigiana without frying the eggplant, just dip the peeled and sliced eggplant in egg and then Italian bread crumbs, and then bake it at 350F for 5 minutes. Then dip each eggplant slice in tomato sauce, place in baking dish and add shredded mozzarella, and grated parmesan cheese on top of each layer. Bake for 35 minutes at 350F.

Believe it or not I hadn't seen either of these posts when I asked when Eggplant Parm day is -- it just happens to be my favoritest meal in the world -- as long as it's baked, never fried. Fried is common and cheap, but when they take the time to bake -- mamamia, nothing like it.