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More news from our friends that make up our Extended Family! More of you should really take advantage of this stuff…

C’mon! Trunzo.com is reaching the ranks of the most prestigious media outlets! Who knows what can happen if all of you add a little something to the mix? The New York Times is already asking me to stop posting…we’re stealing readers!

Okay! News from the Gallen clan! And let me tell you…they are a clan! You think the Trunzo’s have power in numbers? Whoa…

John Gallen (of prior mountain climbing fame — see post dated 7/7/08) offers us news on two fronts. First, the family recently learned that his sister Vicki is being inducted into the Wilson Athletic Hall of Fame. Vicki was a multi-letter varsity athlete in Field Hockey, Basketball and Track. She was named Outstanding Female Athlete of the Year in 1987, and Wilson is following up with an induction this week into its Hall of Fame. Nice!

Congratulations go out to Vicki!

The second news front is huge (in my humble opinion). John’s son Sam is a golfer. Sam started playing just a few years ago…I vividly remember John holding his head in his hands and dreading the day that Sam ultimately “kicks his ass” on the golf course. Sam is 13 years old.

Well…Sam just defended his Berkshire Country Club Junior Championship title with a resounding 83 and 86 to defeat his closest competitor by five strokes. He repeats as Junior Club Champion! Yes…he was Junior Club Champion at the age of 12 last year. John doesn’t have a prayer of ever winning again on the golf course.

Congratulations Sam!

And finally, John decided to do a little more “hiking” last week…I’m still a little confused as to where he was and what he was climbing, but I think he was in Utah and Idaho. Check out this photo…notice the altimeter on his watch? Go ahead…click on the photo for the full size version. 11,628 feet…a low one for him –

We are currently discussing plans for my rookie hike next year. Apparently there are these things called 14er’s…not quite sure yet if they’re rookie material (John hasn’t approved me)…a 14er is a mountain in excess of 14,000 feet in height. Who knew that we have a few out West?

Not me…

Congratulations to the Gallen clan!

I think this is one of the coolest pictures…this is young Jack with his Mom, Jacqui. Jack’s Mom and Dad (Sami) are very, very close friends of ours.

Felt compelled to share it…

Just got off the phone with Mark…

Classes start tomorrow, so yesterday and today are spent mostly in briefing sessions.  It sounds like there are a ton of them.

Since Plebe Summer is over, the plebes are allowed to “walk themselves around”.  It’s the first time they’ve been able to do anything unescorted for over six weeks.  Mark laughs and says “it’s weird”.

HELL-o night was “pretty funny”.  Lots of yelling and screaming, lights out, loud music, strobe lights to further confuse things…if it weren’t the Academy, it might have been a rave.

He sounds good.  The phone call lasted all of three minutes.  He’s busy, and it was great to hear from him!

Continuing in convoluted chronological fashion, let’s take a look at Paris’ 6th birthday! Most of it was celebrated in Annapolis so that Mark, Kristin and Cameron could join in, and we had a blast!

Unfortunately, most of the great pictures (of the birthday and of Plebe Parent Weekend) can’t be posted. Most are set to self-destruct if ever opened again! Yes! It’s true! That’s how serious Mark is about making sure nothing gets posted, seen, or otherwise hinted at that might be used against him by upperclassmen.

Let’s just say he spent a lot of time doing his favorite things over the weekend: eating, texting, and being online. I even have a picture of him with birthday cake jammed in his mouth, a piece the size of a Volkswagen in front of him, and his cell phone in his hand (texting away). Oh…wait…was that a hint? Sorry Mark. Refer all upperclassmen to me…

Let’s start with a peek at Parents’ Weekend. As you might imagine, parents everywhere wanted pictures with their newly-minted plebes in uniform. The newly-minted plebes weren’t thrilled. Initial worries centered on getting bright white uniforms dirty (which would cause all Hell to break loose upon the plebe’s return to “deck”); later objections sounded a lot like “please! No more pictures!” I don’t really have anything “official” showing off Mark and his new duds — nothing posed, nothing that captures the starch and gig line precision…

So here’s a look at a happy plebe hanging with his family for the first time in five plus weeks:

He insists the hat “fits perfectly”.

Just to be sure, Paris decided to give it a try:

Birthday! Check out this cake!

You might be asking yourself “why post a picture of the damn cake?” Excellent question.

We ordered the cake from a baker in Annapolis a few days before leaving Florida. The baker was closed on Sunday (the day of the celebration), so we picked up the cake on Saturday. The cake is one of those “some assembly required” types, so the animal cookies were in their own container awaiting precise placement on the cake. Our newly-minted plebe is raiding the refrigerator for the 9,00th time on Saturday and sees the cookies…”Hey Karen! Can I have some of these?” Even the detailers couldn’t kill the locust in him…the kid is a walking freakin’ plague when it comes to food.

Fast forward to the Birthday Girl! She wore this crown all day on Monday — the flight crew on our trip home loved it (as did most of our fellow travelers):

And finally, Karen’s favorite of the entire weekend:

Those are four of Paris’ favorite people in the whole world. They mean everything to her, and they are happy to give it! We can’t really ask for much more.

We’re a little backwards in a chronological sense here…but we’re trying! Check out Cameron’s Florida adventure –

First, a little golf. Hints about our rounds of golf were made earlier in the ‘Death by Fire Ant’ post, but here’s the Camster in action:

We’re working on his set up! And look! It’s Cameron asking “Dad, why do you have to be such a pain in my butt with that camera?” Aren’t kids wonderful?

Okay, enough with the golf. He loved it…and he wants to play all of the time…but here’s his true love…skateboarding! The Tampa Skate Park is one of the biggest, one of the baddest, and one of the best in the US. All kinds of pro events are held here each year. It’s so cool, and it’s so cutting edge, that every year they re-do the whole park…everything! It’s constantly changing and being updated.

Cameron is a “street” skater. He prefers tricks on things like stairs over tricks on stuff like vertical walls. Check out this blurry attempt to catch him flying off a few:

And here, same stairs but with some kind of a “kick flip” and 360 thrown in for good measure…and yes, he lands these all day long even though the board is nowhere near his feet in the photo. It ends up where it belongs with him on it:

And lest he be accused of being one-sided, here’s a little vertical action:

The photographer missed the high point. Hey…I never claimed to be good. Whatever! More street-like action:

Yes, he landed it.

And finally…pool time with his biggest fan! It’s nice to know that Cameron is still a kid at heart.

Nice mohawk.

Play time meets learning time…Cameron teaches Paris to get to the bottom of “the deep end” to grab Cody (the penguin). Paris was terrified of going to the bottom at any depth before this, so lots of credit goes to the big brother!

We had a great time!

First day of school! Paris got off to a great start this morning!

Looking good and ready to go! This is no small task, folks. In addition to the normal stresses of the first day, we’re dealing with this –

Tropical Storm Fay wants to become Hurricane Fay tomorrow. That ‘H’ you see right between 2 AM Tue and Tue AM Wed is Hurricane Fay hitting the Sarasota Bay at about 2 PM. That puts us smack dab in the middle of it.

But fear not! Paris had other things on her mind this morning. How’s a kid supposed to lug this backpack?

Last minute reassurances from Mommy –

And then…the bus!

For the record, Karen and I zipped out right after the bus and drove up to Paris’ school. We dropped off her supplies, and we wanted to make sure she got from the bus to her classroom okay. Her school combines an Elementary school and a Middle School — it’s huge. It’s also laid out like a campus — lots of buildings as opposed to one big one. We practiced eight times over the weekend so Paris could find her room from anywhere on the campus. In the end, she needed a little help from an aide…with hundreds of kids piling off buses, it got tough for her to spot her landmarks! She met us in her classroom with a smile.

We’ll keep everyone posted on weather issues. Paris is unlikely to have school tomorrow or Wednesday — the schools are used as hurricane shelters. We may not have snow days, but we do have hurricane days!

This will be the first of a handful of posts covering new material, material I should have covered but haven’t, and just good old fashioned quick blurbs. This is a quick blurb…

We got some text messages from Mark last night. The veil of silence is lifting for the Plebes, and that means Plebe Summer is winding down. The rule of thumb goes something like this: one third of the pain suffered at the Academy happens during Plebe Summer. One third happens during Plebe year. And one third happens in the final three years. Kinda’ gives you an idea of just how great the summer was, right?  One third down…

Anyway, Mark hit the Physical Readiness Test (PRT) yesterday. This is important stuff, folks. Fail it, and you’re subject to remedial physical training. Fail it a few times, and you’re subject to “separation” (i.e. being tossed from the Academy).

Mark is not a big fan of sit-ups. If he’s got a weakness in the PRT, it’s sit ups. He managed 68 in two minutes. Weak (sorry Mark), but he’ll improve.

He did 90 push ups in two minutes (almost a max score), and he did the one and a half mile run in 8:12 (max score). Overall that’s an 85.2 %. The PRT score is combined with his grade point average (and other factors) to determine a “cumulative” index that’s used to determine his Order of Merit (class rank). The higher your Order of Merit, the more choices you have as your career progresses.  He’s well on his way to a high number.

Plebes also got a chance to hit a local minor league baseball game. Check out the swarm consuming seats:

About 1,200 plebes and 250 detailers must take just about every seat, right? The funny thing is…in other pictures I saw, the rest of the crowd hardly gives these guys a glance. The Baltimore locals are used to seeing Navy boys and girls running around…

We’re hoping to hear from Mark at some point over the weekend. Details soon…

We’re experiencing technical difficulty here, so for a moment, there will be a slight delay in the posting of additional USNA stuff, Paris’ birthday pix, and highlights of Cameron’s first visit to Florida.

Okay…it’s not a technical issue. It’s a severe case of “dumb ass”. Let me explain:

Some of you have already heard, but for those that haven’t…I had a brief run-in with some fire ants yesterday and lost the battle convincingly. I’ve been stung by bees before (who hasn’t?), and two weeks ago, I even managed to step on a colony of fire ants living in the seam between the sidewalk and the curb. Who worries about fire ants on the damn sidewalk, right? They gave me a good chomp, and I survived. A little annoying itch and discomfort for a few days, but nothing serious.

Yesterday’s fire ants must have been bionic. Genetically altered. Freaks of nature! Here’s the deal –

Cameron and I decide to play a few holes of golf. I execute an excellent shot, but as any golfer knows, the Golf Gods love to make life miserable, so my excellent shot went a wee bit too far. I find my ball sitting amongst some palm trees, saw palmetto, big grasses, and other detritus.

No biggie. I climb into the slop (looking for snakes, scorpions and fire ants the whole time), and I make another excellent shot to escape the slop. I go on to par the hole (for the record).

Anyway, Cameron is congratulating me on my golf prowess, I’m walking back to the cart, I climb in, look down, and “Oh Shit!”…my right leg is set on fire. Cameron claims I used a lot of foul language — I don’t recall. I’m covered from the knee down in fire ants. Where’d they come from? I looked! I was careful!

Well, I get those little bastards off of my leg, and I’m thinking “Lord Jesus, please bring me that chemical foam shit that puts out big fires. I need it real bad on this-here leg.” Jesus did not answer my call for help. My leg remained engulfed in flames.

Cameron asks me if I’m okay. I do my best “sure…no problem” smile and off we go. As mentioned earlier, I par the hole. On to the next one…

I’m standing on the next tee, and I swear to God it feels like those little monsters are still on me, and they’re climbing into every orifice on my body. Every…single…orifice is starting to itch and burn. My ears are closing up, my throat is getting a little funky, and my nose is starting to run. I won’t go into details on other orifices. I’m starting to turn very red, and I’m developing these bubbles on every inch of my skin. Cameron asks if I’m okay. Of course I’m okay…I’m Dad, right?

We make it to the green. Cameron pulls off a couple of nice shots. I’m looking for a sign. Any sign. I need a sign that will help me understand that God is not trying to strike me down. The sky is dark. Lightning flashes. Not a good sign.

Cameron suggests we get the hell out of Dodge. “Dad, I don’t like lightning, and you don’t look so good.” I insist on playing one more hole. Why? Who knows? Musta been another symptom of the bites…see earlier comments about the severe case of “dumb ass”. I had it bad.

So we play one more hole, and I manage to convince myself that I’m feeling better. Much better, thank you. We head home.

I walk in and Karen looks at me and says “what the hell happened to you?” I’m thinking “Jeez, is it that obvious?” I announce that I’m showering.

I’m getting undressed, I look in the mirror, and to my surprise 8,000,000 mosquitoes have attacked me. That’s what it looks like, anyway. I have bumps and bubbles everywhere. I decide a shower will help. Did I mention anything about a severe case of dumb ass?

Meanwhile, Karen decides to call the hospital. They strongly suggest I stop by for a visit. They ask Karen if I can breathe okay. “Can you breathe okay?” she asks. “Sure”, I say…wondering if I’m having trouble breathing. “I’ll be done here in a minute”.

“The hospital says this could be life threatening.”

“Yeah, yeah, just let me rinse off, okay?” God I’m a smart guy.

We get in the car. Karen does 105 mph down our street. Neighbors hate us. I don’t care. Suddenly, I’m not feeling so great.

We get to the hospital and Karen executes one of those sliding parking maneuvers that dumps the newly anointed Head Dumb Ass directly into the Emergency Room. “Go in, tell them what’s going on while I park the car,” she shouts. I go in.

“Hi, I had a fight with some fire ants. I lost,” I announce. “Have a seat,” says the nice lady at the door. I don’t move.

Apparently it took a few wild gestures and a couple of shouts of “Sir! Sir!” from the nice lady before the Head Dumb Ass mutters “What?”. The nice lady asks “Are you allergic to bee stings or other bites?”

“Never have been before,” I say. She tells me in no uncertain terms to “sit”. I sit.

They take me into some room and jack an IV into my hand. Then they show up with a whole bunch of syringes…”this is the fire ant cocktail” they say with a smile. The syringes are going to shoot the cocktail components into the IV. Oh Joy. I’m thinking it better not burn like the fire ant bites did or I’m going to be kicking some serious ass.

Two of the cocktail components burn. It turns out I don’t care. The burn isn’t like the burn I’m experiencing across my body. The other components make me taste battery acid in my mouth. I still don’t care. Paris wants to know if I’m okay. I show her the IV. I smile. “Now that’s how you do it when you get a shot. Did you see me cry?” I ask.

She mutters something I swore sounded a lot like “dumb ass…”

They ask me if I’m breathing okay. And you know what? I didn’t realize just how much I couldn’t breathe until I could breathe again. “Wow,” I say. “I feel great!” They smile like they’re looking at a very challenged young child. I pass out.

Why did I pass out? Well, one of the cocktail components is benadryl. Did I spell that right? Who knows? I’m not feeling like the smartest guy in the world right now. Anyway, benadryl knocks you on your fanny, and after 45 minutes in the hospital to make sure I was going to stay in this world for a bit longer, they sent me home where I promptly passed out again.

I feel pretty good today. No major itching so I’m avoiding more benadryl (I’d be in a coma). Believe it or not, Zantac has antihistamine properties, so I’m taking that. I’ve got a sheet of steroids to take to keep inflammation down. And I’m now the proud owner of an Epi-pen.

One of our close friends here in Florida carries an Epi-pen, and I know he’s laughing and thinking “dumb ass” as he reads this. But for the rest of you, an Epi-pen is a torture instrument disguised as a means of quickly injecting oneself with Epinephrine. You hold this thing in your fist and slam it into your thigh to inject the medicine. It even works through clothes! For the challenged among us! Epinephrine keeps those of us that do battle with fire ants (and lose) breathing long enough to get to a hospital and order a fire ant cocktail. Great stuff!

So! Why the reaction yesterday when I never had one before? No answer…

Will I always react to a bee sting or fire ant attack like this? Who knows? But…chances are that if I do, the symptoms I experience will be more severe. Hence the Epi-pen…

So that’s what’s causing the delay, folks. Sorry about that. I’m going to get working this evening and over the next few days to get some stuff posted. I need to earn back your respect. Lord knows I’ve lost the respect of my wife and kids…

Plebe Parents’ Weekend was a success! We’re packing up now and heading to the airport. Cameron is in tow and ready to assault the skateparks and beaches of Southwest Florida.

Today is Paris’ birthday! Celebrating yesterday with all of the kids was huge for her — she absolutely adores her brothers and sister. And hey! Mark ate cake…

I’ve got a ton of pictures from the weekend. Most will never see the light of day at Mark’s request. “Dad, I don’t need anyone seeing any of this because I don’t want a hard time”, he suggests with a smile. I have a couple of him without his shoulder boards (he was making sure they were displayed “right”). When he heard the camera shutter, he looked at me with a firm smile and said “posting those will be a very bad idea. It looks like I’m out of uniform.”

So! I’ll be doing some reviewing before anything goes up. Stay tuned!

But! Remember those parents we love so much that take pictures for the rest of us to enjoy? One of them was making the rounds on Friday while families waited patiently for their first looks at their sons and daughters. Guess who she found? Check it out –

Karen’s shirt says “Lucky Mom” — she sure looks like one. That head in Mark’s stomach is Paris giving him a huge hug. Cameron is just over Mark’s right shoulder, and obviously Dad is watching Eurpoean soccer (score!). Mark seems to be enjoying the welcome.

This was one really happy moment out of many over a great weekend. The wonderful (and invisible!) Mom who took these photos has literally taken thousands over the summer, but this time she caught all of us. Her name is Nushi. She deserves a medal in our book. We never even knew she was there. Thanks Nushi!

More soon!

This is how the Squad Combat Course is described:

An important evolution during the summer, the Squad Combat Course involves a race between each of the eight squads in a company. Each squad mans a zodiac inflatable boat and they race for time down the Severn River and back.

So how’d the Wunderchild do? Can’t say that I have results, but I do have pictures…yeah baby!

So I’m guessing this photo was taken on the way to the event. BDU’s (Battle Dress Uniforms for you non-military types)…BDU’s on, game face intact. Marky-Mark is ready for business.

But then something happened on the way to Oz! What…did somebody start singing?

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, merrily, merrily…what’s with all the laughter?

What’s so funny about the damn oar? I swear…his squad better have won this thing…

Because the party’s over now, baby! Where’s that laughter now, Marky-Mark? Feeling the heat?

Just how heavy is a zodiac anyway? Bet I find out this weekend…

Gotta love this kid, right? We sure do. I’m thinking even Kristin is looking forward to seeing him this weekend. Now that’s saying something…

Plebe Parents’ Weekend is on the way! Traditionally, this marks the end of Plebe Summer. Unfortunately, tradition won’t necessarily prevail this year. The plebes have a few days until the upper classmen “reform” (come back). Plebe Summer training will continue until then.

Then it’s HELL-o night. Upper class gets to say “hello” to all of the new plebes. New rooms, new company mates. All the friends plebes have made over the summer go to their regularly assigned companies. No more letter companies (Mark is currently Company ‘M’) — it’s all by the numbers now. Those in Mark’s platoon (23) will be assigned to 23rd company.

Which brings me to this very important question…

See this?

This, my friends, is the 23rd company seal. The question is…what is a Hellfish?

(I tried looking it up…)

More soon!