Okay, before I start sipping my kool-aid to keep up with all the other kids on the block, I would like to take a moment to welcome some new followers to the fold. In fact, as of now, I've hit another arbitrary milestone with the addition of my 50th and 51st official followers. We The People of the self titled blog has the honor of being the 50th person to click the follower button. He was closely followed a day or so later by TOGBlog of The Old Geezer Blog. Welcome both of you. Don't bother trying to save me from myself. It hasn't worked yet. I'd admonish you from stealing my stuff, but there's not much to steal. So, why bother?
Now, a new meme has surfaced amongst the cool kids (notably Tam, Borepatch and several others) asking people what five firearms they would purchase if money and legality were no object. I am normally immune to this sort of thing; however, since I've published my gunnie wish list on a couple of ocassions, I really can't pass this one up.
So, without further adieu...
1) I am going to flatter/shamelessly steal Borepatch's idea with this one. He suggested obtaining a Browning M-2 .50 cal machine gun. Six of them actually nicely packaged in a North American P-51 Mustang. There is no doubt that the Mustang is a sexy beast; however, it is not my first choice in the warbird department. Not even first among the WWII birds of prey still in flying condition. My choice here is the brutally effective GAU-8/A Avenger 30mm Gatling-type cannon mounted to the Fairchild A-10 Thunderbolt. If former Dallas Cowboy defensive back (at 6 foot 4 inches and 250 pounds) and Air Force Academy graduate Chad Hennings can shoe horn himself into one, I know I can. Can you imagine throwing depleted uranium bullets over an inch thick at a rounds per minute rate faster than most small armies and flying gracefully (if not in the most sexy of machines) through the air with the greatest of ease...where do I sign up?
2) CoH Craig Harrison's L115A3 Long Range Rifle in .338 Lapua Magnum. As a student of history and one fascinated with snipers, I think having the rifle that made the shot currently holding the longest distance sniper kill record would be awesome.
3) Perhaps the only single rifle more awesome than CoH Harrison's rifle would be Simo Hayha's M28 Mosin-Nagant Rifle in 7.62x54R. To have the rifle that killed more enemies on the field of battle than any other rifle in recorded history...that would be both chilling and thrilling all at the same time.
4) Any single firearm personally owned and used by John Moses Browning. Does anything else even come close to approaching reliquery status in the gunnie world?
5) A one of a kind, deep blued, engraved, custom 1911 made to my specs by John Moses Browning himself. I know this one is bending the rules just a little bit since it involves rewriting the laws of time, space and nature and is not in the spirit of the meme given the fact that the gun itself does not currently exist...but, I think those are minor issues.
My list. My grail guns. Deal with it or make your own list.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Match Results
As promised, the match results are in. I think I did fairly well considering this was my first time, and I had no basis for comparison.
My total match score was 109.92 based on a total raw time of 107.42 and a total of 5 points down (meaning I hit the -1 section of a target five different times over the course of the match resulting in a half second penalty for each point down) for a 2.5 second penalty. Considering that there were 24 total targets among the four stages and I only missed the prime target area five times, I think that's pretty darn good for a newbie.
My times were good enough for 32nd out of 40 shooters overall. I was 4th of 6 in the CDP (custom defensive pistol) division; however, I was the top unclassified shooter in my division. The other two UCs in CDP came in with scores of 132.21 and 148.35. I missed third place in the division by enough that it wasn't close (91.56 from a marksman ranked shooter). As I suspected, ESE#1 was the top shooter in CDP and second place overall with a score of 56.34. He's classified as expert. So, he should be shooting better than me.
Top score overall was turned in by a stock service pistol shooter at 53.42. So, if I can cut my time in half, I've to a chance at winning.
Maybe next time...yeah, right.
My total match score was 109.92 based on a total raw time of 107.42 and a total of 5 points down (meaning I hit the -1 section of a target five different times over the course of the match resulting in a half second penalty for each point down) for a 2.5 second penalty. Considering that there were 24 total targets among the four stages and I only missed the prime target area five times, I think that's pretty darn good for a newbie.
My times were good enough for 32nd out of 40 shooters overall. I was 4th of 6 in the CDP (custom defensive pistol) division; however, I was the top unclassified shooter in my division. The other two UCs in CDP came in with scores of 132.21 and 148.35. I missed third place in the division by enough that it wasn't close (91.56 from a marksman ranked shooter). As I suspected, ESE#1 was the top shooter in CDP and second place overall with a score of 56.34. He's classified as expert. So, he should be shooting better than me.
Top score overall was turned in by a stock service pistol shooter at 53.42. So, if I can cut my time in half, I've to a chance at winning.
Maybe next time...yeah, right.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Let The Games Begin
Let The Games Begin
Before we begin today's regular programming of assorted insanity and mayhem, please allow me to take a moment to welcome our new follower, Auntie J. Auntie J appears to have found her way here from DaddyBear's Den (thanks again for the link DB). According to her comment on a recent post, Auntie J appears to be in the throws of the foster parent/adoption process. So, I'm sure she won't mind a few extra prayers from the congregation. Auntie J, thanks for stopping by and joining our happy band of misfits and sinners. There's always room for one more.
Anywho, I am inspired to write this afternoon to relate my experiences of yesterday evening. As mentioned in previous posts, I have had a burning desire to engage in some form of competitive shooting for some time now. I've watched from the sidelines as others have too much fun for too long. No more. So, last night, I took the plunge and shot my first IDPA match.
Where to begin?
First, the people. I can not say enough about how nice the people involved in organizing the match were. The match was put on by the Dallas Action Pistol Shooters, and a nicer bunch of folks does not exist in my opinion. They were very welcoming and helpful to the handful of new shooters there last night including myself. I showed up by myself, not knowing a soul, spotted a guy in a "shoot me first" vest at the door to the range and got brief but accurate instructions on where to go and who to see to get registered.
I found the person I was to supposed to see about registering and was immediately greeted with a warm handshake and a "Hi, my name is___." as soon as I announced first time, new shooter, several other people leaned in to introduce themselves. They were all very patient with me ignorance.
Nice lady helping with registration: "What division are you going to shoot?"
Me: "I don't know. I have a SIG 1911."
Experienced Shooter Eavesdropping: "What caliber?"
Me: ".45."
ESE#1 to another ESE: "Hey Artie, he's shooting man bullets too." (I later found out that ESE#1 and Artie had a good natured rivalry going. ESE#1 was also shooting a .45 1911 while Artie was running a 9mm Glock.)
Nice lady: "You'll be in CDP."
Me: "Uh...."
Nice lady: "Don't worry about it. The safe area is through that door, new shooter safety briefing starts in about 10 minutes. They'll help you get geared up and pointed in the right direction."
And, so, it began.
ESE#1, in addition to being one of the match safety officers, turned out to be a great resource since we were shooting the same equipment and division. He helped me get a mag pouch and belt picked out and set up since I arrived sans both. He also let me borrow an extra magazine from him since I came to the match one short of the minimum.
During the new shooter briefing, it became apparent that what I thought was going to happen wasn't going to happen. I was under the impression that I would have to shoot the classifier round before shooting a match. During the briefing, I learned that, no, in fact, we were all going to shoot the full match. I raised my hand to ask about the round count, and I was rewarded with "Excellent question. It depends." I allowed as how I just wanted to make sure that I had brought enough ammo. He confirmed that what I had on hand was sufficient.
Then it was time to hit the range. We were shooting at an indoor range that had three separate bays set up for four stages. The group of about 40 or 50 shooters was divided into two squads. I was assigned to the squad with ESE#1, Artie, and the majority of the new shooters including two father/daughter teams which I thought was cool.
I was pretty far down in the rotation which I appreciated as it gave me ample opportunity to study procedures, etc. Finally, my name was called. ESE#1 was the safety officer on my shoot. He asked me to describe what I was going to do. Apparently, what I said made sense to him as he let me give it a try.
The first stage involved three sets of targets separated by barrels stacked as barricades. Staring position was hands on a barrel with two targets about 3 yards forward of the barrel. At the buzzer, I was to draw and fire a "Mozambique" (two shots center mass and one shot to the "head") at both targets. From there, I had to back up slightly and move to the stacked barrels on my left to engage three targets with two shots each from cover by "slicing the pie."
Since I only started with 9 rounds in the gun, this is where I was forced to reload. I lost a bit of time here due to inexperience in rapid reloading, but I managed to get the fresh mag from the carrier and insert it into the magwell without dropping it or trying to put in backwards.
After clearing this part of the stage, it was another shuffle/lurch to another barrel barricade to the left for the final two targets for two shots each. One of these targets had a "hostage" no shoot target attached to the front reducing the available scoring target area.
I managed to get through the stage with no major malfunctions, runs, drips or errors. The stage required a minimum of 16 rounds for successful completion, and that is the number of shots I fired. I hit all my targets and did not shoot the no shoot.
At this point, I do not remember what my time was or how many points down I got, if any. I'll have to do another post when the scores are released on the club website. When another newbie asked me how I did, I responded "I got a time. That's all I know."
And that's pretty much how the whole match went. Total minimum round count for all four stages was 56. Number of rounds I fired: 56. I committed no errors or procedurals. I didn't shoot myself or anyone else. Daddy Hawk's WARHAMMER! functioned flawlessly. I know I came in 32nd overall out of at least 40 shooters. I have no clue about my rank within the CDP division, but I can pretty much guarantee that ESE#1 took top honors there.
Perhaps the best compliment I had all night was at the end of stage four when Artie said, "Man, you are accurate as Hell." I'll take that with a smile for my first attempt.
Before we begin today's regular programming of assorted insanity and mayhem, please allow me to take a moment to welcome our new follower, Auntie J. Auntie J appears to have found her way here from DaddyBear's Den (thanks again for the link DB). According to her comment on a recent post, Auntie J appears to be in the throws of the foster parent/adoption process. So, I'm sure she won't mind a few extra prayers from the congregation. Auntie J, thanks for stopping by and joining our happy band of misfits and sinners. There's always room for one more.
Anywho, I am inspired to write this afternoon to relate my experiences of yesterday evening. As mentioned in previous posts, I have had a burning desire to engage in some form of competitive shooting for some time now. I've watched from the sidelines as others have too much fun for too long. No more. So, last night, I took the plunge and shot my first IDPA match.
Where to begin?
First, the people. I can not say enough about how nice the people involved in organizing the match were. The match was put on by the Dallas Action Pistol Shooters, and a nicer bunch of folks does not exist in my opinion. They were very welcoming and helpful to the handful of new shooters there last night including myself. I showed up by myself, not knowing a soul, spotted a guy in a "shoot me first" vest at the door to the range and got brief but accurate instructions on where to go and who to see to get registered.
I found the person I was to supposed to see about registering and was immediately greeted with a warm handshake and a "Hi, my name is___." as soon as I announced first time, new shooter, several other people leaned in to introduce themselves. They were all very patient with me ignorance.
Nice lady helping with registration: "What division are you going to shoot?"
Me: "I don't know. I have a SIG 1911."
Experienced Shooter Eavesdropping: "What caliber?"
Me: ".45."
ESE#1 to another ESE: "Hey Artie, he's shooting man bullets too." (I later found out that ESE#1 and Artie had a good natured rivalry going. ESE#1 was also shooting a .45 1911 while Artie was running a 9mm Glock.)
Nice lady: "You'll be in CDP."
Me: "Uh...."
Nice lady: "Don't worry about it. The safe area is through that door, new shooter safety briefing starts in about 10 minutes. They'll help you get geared up and pointed in the right direction."
And, so, it began.
ESE#1, in addition to being one of the match safety officers, turned out to be a great resource since we were shooting the same equipment and division. He helped me get a mag pouch and belt picked out and set up since I arrived sans both. He also let me borrow an extra magazine from him since I came to the match one short of the minimum.
During the new shooter briefing, it became apparent that what I thought was going to happen wasn't going to happen. I was under the impression that I would have to shoot the classifier round before shooting a match. During the briefing, I learned that, no, in fact, we were all going to shoot the full match. I raised my hand to ask about the round count, and I was rewarded with "Excellent question. It depends." I allowed as how I just wanted to make sure that I had brought enough ammo. He confirmed that what I had on hand was sufficient.
Then it was time to hit the range. We were shooting at an indoor range that had three separate bays set up for four stages. The group of about 40 or 50 shooters was divided into two squads. I was assigned to the squad with ESE#1, Artie, and the majority of the new shooters including two father/daughter teams which I thought was cool.
I was pretty far down in the rotation which I appreciated as it gave me ample opportunity to study procedures, etc. Finally, my name was called. ESE#1 was the safety officer on my shoot. He asked me to describe what I was going to do. Apparently, what I said made sense to him as he let me give it a try.
The first stage involved three sets of targets separated by barrels stacked as barricades. Staring position was hands on a barrel with two targets about 3 yards forward of the barrel. At the buzzer, I was to draw and fire a "Mozambique" (two shots center mass and one shot to the "head") at both targets. From there, I had to back up slightly and move to the stacked barrels on my left to engage three targets with two shots each from cover by "slicing the pie."
Since I only started with 9 rounds in the gun, this is where I was forced to reload. I lost a bit of time here due to inexperience in rapid reloading, but I managed to get the fresh mag from the carrier and insert it into the magwell without dropping it or trying to put in backwards.
After clearing this part of the stage, it was another shuffle/lurch to another barrel barricade to the left for the final two targets for two shots each. One of these targets had a "hostage" no shoot target attached to the front reducing the available scoring target area.
I managed to get through the stage with no major malfunctions, runs, drips or errors. The stage required a minimum of 16 rounds for successful completion, and that is the number of shots I fired. I hit all my targets and did not shoot the no shoot.
At this point, I do not remember what my time was or how many points down I got, if any. I'll have to do another post when the scores are released on the club website. When another newbie asked me how I did, I responded "I got a time. That's all I know."
And that's pretty much how the whole match went. Total minimum round count for all four stages was 56. Number of rounds I fired: 56. I committed no errors or procedurals. I didn't shoot myself or anyone else. Daddy Hawk's WARHAMMER! functioned flawlessly. I know I came in 32nd overall out of at least 40 shooters. I have no clue about my rank within the CDP division, but I can pretty much guarantee that ESE#1 took top honors there.
Perhaps the best compliment I had all night was at the end of stage four when Artie said, "Man, you are accurate as Hell." I'll take that with a smile for my first attempt.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
About That Leather Upholstery...
About That Leather Upholstery...
...apparently infants really do spew when you shake them up like a warm beer. More on that in a moment.
This post is brought to you by kymber who asked for a Queen/M&M update in the Everything Update post comments. This is a first. I've never actually had a request for a post before. How could I refuse?
Now, back to our special request programming.
M&M is doing just fine. Personally, I think she is nothing short of amazing. She has had a developmental delay evaluation, given the fact that she was born premature. The evaluator concluded that she is well within normal ranges and requires no special treatment or developmental plan. That really is outstanding considering where she started in this life. Hopefully one of these days I'll get to share the rest of that story with you all.
On a more somber note, we got a good news/bad news call from the CPS case worker yesterday. The good news is that the case worker is not optimistic that the bio parents will get their act together and complete their requirements for reunification with M&M. That's hurdle number one for us getting to adopt her starting to tip over.
Unfortunately, the bad news is that hurdle number two may be bolted to the tracks and layered with bricks. Apparently, the bio parents are reading the writing on the wall so to speak and are beginning to realize that they are being found lacking. One of them has a family member out of state who is allegedly licensed as a foster parent who has indicated that they would like to pursue adopting M&M. CPS is required to review this person's home study and determine if they are a viable parent. If so, they get first dibs.
Needless to say, this would be emotionally crushing for both The Queen and I if we were forced to return M&M to that family, even the extended family. Right now, we are just trying to focus on giving her the best care we can and relying on our faith to help us come to terms with the possibility of losing her.
According to the caseworker, it will be about three or four months before they will be ale to fully vet the family member. The suspicious, reptilian, conspiracy theorist part of my brain is yelling rather lousy that this is just a ploy by the bio parents to game the system by having a family member engage in a sham adoption. The rational part of me isn't putting up much of an argument at this point.
Enough of that garbage for now. It's the system we are stuck with unless we want to shell out a minimum of $20,000 (which we don't have) to go the traditional newborn adoption route.
Let's talk about projectile vomiting in a luxury SUV. The other night, The Queen was delivering me back to the office after dinner to pick up my car. M&M was safely strapped into her car seat behind The Queen. I was in the front passenger seat. The road we were we on was not terribly bumpy; however, I turned to look into the backseat just in time to see a two foot long jet of steaming baby puke coat the really nice blanket my sister...the devil had crocheted for her as well as the leather seat and middle seat center console.
Nice.
While we are on the subject of baby puke, I have to come up with a new description for guacamole. You see, baby puke is generally the same color as the formula. Ergo, guacamole cannot be baby puke. I have noted, however, a disturbing similarity between fresh guacamole and fresh M&M dirty diaper contents. Somehow, I don't think The Queen would appreciate me referring to one of her favorite foods as baby turds though.
On that pleasant mental image, I bid you all good night and sweet dreams.
...apparently infants really do spew when you shake them up like a warm beer. More on that in a moment.
This post is brought to you by kymber who asked for a Queen/M&M update in the Everything Update post comments. This is a first. I've never actually had a request for a post before. How could I refuse?
Now, back to our special request programming.
M&M is doing just fine. Personally, I think she is nothing short of amazing. She has had a developmental delay evaluation, given the fact that she was born premature. The evaluator concluded that she is well within normal ranges and requires no special treatment or developmental plan. That really is outstanding considering where she started in this life. Hopefully one of these days I'll get to share the rest of that story with you all.
On a more somber note, we got a good news/bad news call from the CPS case worker yesterday. The good news is that the case worker is not optimistic that the bio parents will get their act together and complete their requirements for reunification with M&M. That's hurdle number one for us getting to adopt her starting to tip over.
Unfortunately, the bad news is that hurdle number two may be bolted to the tracks and layered with bricks. Apparently, the bio parents are reading the writing on the wall so to speak and are beginning to realize that they are being found lacking. One of them has a family member out of state who is allegedly licensed as a foster parent who has indicated that they would like to pursue adopting M&M. CPS is required to review this person's home study and determine if they are a viable parent. If so, they get first dibs.
Needless to say, this would be emotionally crushing for both The Queen and I if we were forced to return M&M to that family, even the extended family. Right now, we are just trying to focus on giving her the best care we can and relying on our faith to help us come to terms with the possibility of losing her.
According to the caseworker, it will be about three or four months before they will be ale to fully vet the family member. The suspicious, reptilian, conspiracy theorist part of my brain is yelling rather lousy that this is just a ploy by the bio parents to game the system by having a family member engage in a sham adoption. The rational part of me isn't putting up much of an argument at this point.
Enough of that garbage for now. It's the system we are stuck with unless we want to shell out a minimum of $20,000 (which we don't have) to go the traditional newborn adoption route.
Let's talk about projectile vomiting in a luxury SUV. The other night, The Queen was delivering me back to the office after dinner to pick up my car. M&M was safely strapped into her car seat behind The Queen. I was in the front passenger seat. The road we were we on was not terribly bumpy; however, I turned to look into the backseat just in time to see a two foot long jet of steaming baby puke coat the really nice blanket my sister...the devil had crocheted for her as well as the leather seat and middle seat center console.
Nice.
While we are on the subject of baby puke, I have to come up with a new description for guacamole. You see, baby puke is generally the same color as the formula. Ergo, guacamole cannot be baby puke. I have noted, however, a disturbing similarity between fresh guacamole and fresh M&M dirty diaper contents. Somehow, I don't think The Queen would appreciate me referring to one of her favorite foods as baby turds though.
On that pleasant mental image, I bid you all good night and sweet dreams.
Monday, January 16, 2012
WARHAMMER!!!!
Men of evil intent, be on notice and forewarned. At long last, Daddy Hawk has a WARHAMMER! worthy of the name with which to protect and defend the honor and virtue of The Queen and M&M. After much searching, fondling, drooling, coon fingering and general moon gazing at gun shows, gun stores and on the internet, I came to an unlikely decision given my previous ramblings on the subject. Let us start with a teaser....
Now, long time readers will immediately take notice and say, "Shepherd, what gives? You never mentioned SIGs as being on the wish list before." True, true. But, I never said they weren't either. Times change, additional information is gathered and the cream, as they say, rises to the top.
I can also hear some of you thinking loudly saying, "But, wait a minute Shep, I thought you wanted a 1911 so desperately you were channeling the spirit of John Moses Browning with a Ouiji board."
 |
| (pardon the view...Blogger won't let me rotate it) |
Quite possibly true, but did I mention that SIG makes 1911s?
What you are looking at is the 1911 TACPAC from SIG. I will let SIG give you all the details your heart could desire. Basically, you get a full size, railed 1911 with a laser and standard three dot sights, kydex OWB retention holster with mag pouch, 2 magazines, a mag loader and a nice hard shell case.
Some of you are nodding your heads and saying "Uh huh, but, but...." Let me just say this about that...
 | |
| (16 rounds at 7 yards 1 flyer) |
I looked at everything priced at or below $1000. Really. I checked out Citadels. I looked at Rock Island Armory. A lot of people rave about them. They are solid and well put together, but I would have had to immediately sink money into it to get it to where I wanted it to be. I lusted after the Ruger SR1911 from afar on the internets; however, the fact that I have yet to see one in person anywhere put it out of reach despite it's attractive price and Ruger's reputation. I suspect they are nothing more than a viscious rumor spread by gun rags to increase magazine sales. I looked at Taurus...and kept right on looking. I looked at Colts, Kimbers and Springfield Armory. I had one grizzled old gunsmith tell me in no uncertain terms that Kimbers were crap and that they had never worked. My experience has been different, but there is enough smoke on the net to suggest some truth to his opinions. He also stated that he carried Colts and Springers in his store because they worked and had been making 1911s since 1911. Perhaps. The Colt I wanted was no where to be found, and I didn't like the build quality or feel of the Springer Loadeds I tried. Paras, STIs (keep in mind that there only 1 STI under a grand) and Remington all got brief consideration. Okay. STI got more than brief consideration. I looked longingly at the Smith & Wesson E Series (after all, it has wood grips engraved with my last initial) right up until I fondled one at the fun show today. Something about it was just not right.
Then we have SIGs. I had seen them on the web...and ignored them. Right up until a trip to a local range and gun store last week. When I mentioned my desire for a full size 1911, the gun counter dude pulled the SIG out of the case and said "Listen" as he racked the slide.
The SIG said, "shhCHING". It made a beautiful ringing sound kinda like a nice crystal wine glass. That got my attention.
I held it lovingly in my hands, and it felt every bit like I dreamed a 1911 should feel. It pointed right where I wanted it. The front and back strap checkering was perfect. The build quality was dead on perfect. You just new it would hit bullseyes right out of the box. The store wanted too much friggin' money for the one that had in stock. To be fair, I think that one was the GSR version which had the magwell extension main spring housing and tritium night sights. It sure wasn't worth almost $400 more than what I paid for the complete package today at the fun show.
Number One follower, his roomie and her boyfriend went to the gun range after the fun show to give it a whirl. Out of the box, it shot bullseyes just as I thought. It ate 120 rounds of 230 grain full metal jacket ammo from four different manufacturers without a single malfuntion. NOF's roomie (who is a new shooter) ran a couple of mags through and said she liked it better than NOF's Glock 19. That should say something.
So, to recap. One item of the wish list. One dream gun obtained. Daddy Hawk happy...for now.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
The Everything Update Post
The Everything Update Post
Welcome back, dear readers, to another exciting episode of "As The Castle Turns". Or, as I like to call it, "let's see how fast Shepherd K's head can spin". I had great intentions and plans of writing an end of year summary post, posting a nice little homage to my beautiful wife for our anniversary and a few other little things like a rant against AT&T. Yep, you can see how well that plan worked out. Life apparently has a spy in the castle, got wind of everything and decided to toss a monkey wrench my way.
Before I get to far afield into the massive life update of doom, I'd like to take a moment to welcome a couple of new followers. Mandyfarmer and Odysseus have taken the plunge in the baptismal font here so to speak. Thank you both for taking the time to follow me. I can't promise greatness (go read Brigid's work if that's what you're looking for) or consistency, but I can promise I will respond to comments as soon as humanly possible and occasionally make you spew coffee on your monitor.
As to the rest, I suppose I should take things in chronological order so that I don't forget anything.
Wednesday, December 28
This was The Queen's and my eighth wedding anniversary. We had originally planned to take a road trip up to Missouri to visit some friends over the New Year's weekend as a little combination getaway and anniversary celebration. Unfortunately, little Miss M&M comes with strings attached. A leash actually. We can't leave the state without prior approval from CPS, the court and the Lord Almighty apparently. I could understand not being allowed to take her out of the country, but across state lines seems a little restrictive to me. What are we going to do? Go to Arkansas and change her name to Cletus?
We didn't have enough time to get the necessary permissions to take M&M across state lines before it would have been time to leave. So, we had to come up with an alternate plan. The initial plan was to check into a nice, local hotel for a little romantic getaway to celebrate the anniversary. Reservations were made at a nice place on a nearby lake? The reality struck. More on that in a moment.
Thursday, December 29
My last day at my old job, and the beginning of four days of being blissfully and technically unemployed. The whole outprocessing process was a bit of a goat rope because I was one of the first ones in the company and the first one for my claims center to leave the company since the remote worker program had been initiated. No one knew who was on first, what was supposed to happen or when it had to be done. Being a remote worker, packing up the office was the exact opposite of what most cube drones experience: all your personal stuff stays and you box up all the company items for removal. We determined that I needed to have all the computer equipment delivered to the local underwriting office on the other side of the metroplex from the castle by 3:30. Due to lunch plans, that meant that I had to stop working at 12:00 take have time to box everything up, get to lunch, and travel across the world to deliver the stuff on time.
I managed to get everything more or less in it's original packaging (when retained), loaded into the van and promptly delivered ahead of the deadline. Thus ended a little over six years (on this, my second, go round) with that employer.
The Queen asked me if I had any sad feelings about leaving after all that my bosses has done for me during her mystery illness. Honestly, I was too excited about he new job to feel sad about the old one. My bosses at the old job are good people, and I wish them the very best. I just have not been happy in that position for a long time.
Claims operations in major, publically traded companies have all pretty much evolved into the same bureaucratic nightmare that is soul killing and mind numbing. An adjuster is supposed to be a professional level position where you are paid to bring certain investigative and analytical skills to the table and to use those skills to make decisions and resolve claims. The profession has descended into a pseudo professional, clerical/data entry position with no respect or authority thanks to the meddling of uncounted middle managers fresh out of MBA school looking to make a name for themselves by creating some useless process or form that then becomes institutionalized. That discontent with seagull management was the main reason behind my decision to apply to law school. I had to make some effort to break loose from the rut.
Friday, December 30
The sun dawned on my first day of unemployment. I was not awake for that blessed event, but I have it on good authority that it occurred during my peaceful slumber since the sun was shining when my eyes opened. I might have gotten up to feed M&M sometime in the night. I don't recall at this point. We had a quiet day of things that I no longer remember at this point.
Saturday, December 31
The Queen and I decided to make the trek out to the brother in law's place to check in on The Queen's dad who has been fighting some health problems here of late. My father in law is a good man with a bit of a stubborn streak. He's not been near a doctor in over 40 years, and he's become a bit of a germaphobe as well. I suppose that's understandable after a long career as a self employed janitorial services provider.
At any rate, it has been painfully obvious that he has been dealing with an enlarged prostate for several years now...something which he has heretofor adamantly denied. Starting a couple of weeks ago, he started having to pee much more frequently, having nausea, etc. He tried to pass it off as having the flu or something.
Well, it didn't get any better; and, in fact, got worse. He lost his appetite which led to him getting weaker. He also refused to go to a doctor. Despite the pleas of pretty much everyone, he was bound and determined not to go to a doctor...all the while telling us that it felt like he was dying. When we got to the house and saw how bad things had gotten, we decided to spend the night at a nearby hotel (which necessitated us canceling the first night at our romantic getaway hotel) as my brother in law and his family where going to spending the night at a friends house leaving my father in law and mother in law to their own devices (not an especially wise idea under the circumstances). We went to the store and bought the makings for some homemade chicken broth as well as chicken and rice soup based on the broth.
We were also successful in convincing him to go see The Queen's chiropractor who helped her quite a bit during the course of the mystery illness. Unfortunatly, it being a holiday weekend, we weren't able to be him an appointment until the following Wednesday.
Sunday, January 1
We spent the day with The Queen's parents until her brother and his family returned. Then, we scooted off to our super secret romantic getaway hotel whereupon a lovely dinner was had, some wine was imbibed and we enjoyed a little quality time away from the cares of this world. You don't need to know all the sordid details.
Monday, January 2
The day dawned with me leaned back in a chair and M&M asleep on my chest after she slurped down a bottle at the ridiculous hour of 5:00am. Oh well. The sun was shining, we had a lake view to enjoy together and The Queen was snoozing peacefully in bed beside us. We had hoped to be able to spend a little time walking by the lake after breakfast; however, such was not to be. M&M was scheduled to have a visit with her bio parents at the CPS offices at one particular location. About 9:30, we got a call from the caseworker asking us if we could deliver her to an alternate location further away as the bio parents allegedly had car trouble. This alternate location just happened to be closer to the bio parents apartment (less than a mile away, but don't ask me how I know that). We agreed to the change (as if we had any choice in the matter) even though it killed off our leisurely walking around time.
We arrived at the CPS office very early to avoid any possibility of meeting the birth parents. Or so we thought. The lady at the front desk had no idea who we were or who was supposed to take custody of M&M. Come to find out, a caseworker from the original location was coming to the alternate to handle the visit. Unfortunately, she did not arrive until 5 minutes before the scheduled visit time. We were all out in the parking lot handing over M&M to the caseworker and updating her on feeding and diaper status when, lo and behold, the birth parents and M&M's half brother walked up and said "You must be the foster parents." Can you say awkward? Did I mention that they arrived in a perfectly functional late model pickup truck? Color me unhappy. I hope they did not notice the fact that my skin was crawling when I said that we didn't want to take away from their visit time with M&M so that The Queen and I could get the Hell out of there. I won't say my true opinion of them out of respect for M&M, but I was hearing banjos.
The Queen and I suffered through a stomach churning lunch during the hour long visit at a nearby location awaiting the caseworker's call that it was time to come get M&M. I don't want to sound unduly mean to the bio parents, but I truly hope they do not get their act together so that we can hopefully keep M&M.
Tuesday, January 3
The Queen graciously took the night duty with M&M so that I could have a full night's sleep for my first day at the new job. I awoke before the light of day to have plenty of time to get ready, avoid traffic and arrive on time. I was successful on all counts even arriving about 20 minutes earlier than required and well ahead of my new boss.
After being let in by the receptionist, I sat in my new office for all of a few minutes before one of my new coworkers whisked me away on a grand tour of the office and introductions to those employees that had already made it in for the day. After that, it was a code of hours worth of paperwork and benefits discussions with HR. I returned from HR to find my swag had been delivered by IT. Brand, spanking new top of the line iPhone and iPad had been placed on my desk. Sweet. Then, we split for lunch. After some good barbecue, it was back to HR for compensation discussion and more paperwork. I was told to go home after that. There are worse ways to start a new job.
Wednesday, January 4
Signing bonus check delivered. Yea, baby. Started getting familiar with the computer, etc. Remember my father in law, e stubborn one who was scheduled to see the doctor today. That was supposed to happen at 2:00. Right after lunch, I get a call from The Queen that she talked to her brother who had helped FIL to the car. FIL was not doing well. The Queen was scared and really wanted to get him to a hospital but didn't think her dad would go. She was asking me if I could come be the voice of reason and put a gun to his head if necessary. I told her I would check on the options and get back with her.
Fortunately, there was a party scheduled at the office for 3:00. It seems I came on board just as the original CEO was stepping down. This was the official transition party. So, I spoke to my boss. He understood and said I could bail out of the party which I'm a little disappointed to have missed. It was quite the spread.
On the way to the doctor's office to meet up with The Queen, I called her for an update. The doc did some of his hoodoo voodoo and came to the conclusion that it might be a ruptured appendix. Fortunately, the possibility of a ruptured appendix trumped any further stubbornness and germaphobia with my FIL. He readily agreed to go to the hospital. I arrived there at about 5:30 after making detours for food and other necessities at The Queen's request.
After much poking, prodding and diagnostic prognosticating, the verdict was what I had been suspecting all along: my father in law's prostate had enlarged to the point that it clamped off the urethra causing his bladder to swell and back up everything to the point of causing acute renal failure. He was immediately catheterized; and, within 10 minutes, he had filled a 2 liter catheter bag and was still going strong. The nurse showed him the bag and said "This is how big your bladder was." Guys, seriously, don't mess around with your prostate health once you get passed 40. The ER folks admitted him for monitoring to make sure his kidneys came back on line (which they have) and for blood pressure monitoring among other things. We think he will be discharged tomorrow or Tuesday.
Thursday, January 5
The only event worth mentioning here is that The Queen now has a chariot worthy of her royal highness. We have been rolling around in two aging but paid for vehicles for quite some time now. With the addition to the family, I had promised The Queen a newer vehicle, and we had been on the hunt since I received the official job offer. We found a really good deal on a gently used Lincoln Navigator. Now my girls are stylin' in a pimpin' ride. This thing has so many gizmos it almost ridiculous.
Friday, January 6
So, there I am at my desk trying to get up to speed on things when a curious email crosses my screen. The company is having everyone dress up in a couple of weeks for formal portraits. Okay. No big deal. The stated purpose is so that the company can send them out to the clients so they can put a face with the name. Also buried in the email is that certain executives will need a double time slot for extra pictures to be used on the company web page, in newsletters, etc. Following that was a listing of those executives who will need the extra time. Imagine my surprise when I discovered my name was on that list. When did I become an executive and why didn't anyone tell me? Talk about an ego boost.
That's the news fit to print from Castle Erickson for now. Tune in again next time when I decide to put up some real content about something more or less important. Maybe.
Welcome back, dear readers, to another exciting episode of "As The Castle Turns". Or, as I like to call it, "let's see how fast Shepherd K's head can spin". I had great intentions and plans of writing an end of year summary post, posting a nice little homage to my beautiful wife for our anniversary and a few other little things like a rant against AT&T. Yep, you can see how well that plan worked out. Life apparently has a spy in the castle, got wind of everything and decided to toss a monkey wrench my way.
Before I get to far afield into the massive life update of doom, I'd like to take a moment to welcome a couple of new followers. Mandyfarmer and Odysseus have taken the plunge in the baptismal font here so to speak. Thank you both for taking the time to follow me. I can't promise greatness (go read Brigid's work if that's what you're looking for) or consistency, but I can promise I will respond to comments as soon as humanly possible and occasionally make you spew coffee on your monitor.
As to the rest, I suppose I should take things in chronological order so that I don't forget anything.
Wednesday, December 28
This was The Queen's and my eighth wedding anniversary. We had originally planned to take a road trip up to Missouri to visit some friends over the New Year's weekend as a little combination getaway and anniversary celebration. Unfortunately, little Miss M&M comes with strings attached. A leash actually. We can't leave the state without prior approval from CPS, the court and the Lord Almighty apparently. I could understand not being allowed to take her out of the country, but across state lines seems a little restrictive to me. What are we going to do? Go to Arkansas and change her name to Cletus?
We didn't have enough time to get the necessary permissions to take M&M across state lines before it would have been time to leave. So, we had to come up with an alternate plan. The initial plan was to check into a nice, local hotel for a little romantic getaway to celebrate the anniversary. Reservations were made at a nice place on a nearby lake? The reality struck. More on that in a moment.
Thursday, December 29
My last day at my old job, and the beginning of four days of being blissfully and technically unemployed. The whole outprocessing process was a bit of a goat rope because I was one of the first ones in the company and the first one for my claims center to leave the company since the remote worker program had been initiated. No one knew who was on first, what was supposed to happen or when it had to be done. Being a remote worker, packing up the office was the exact opposite of what most cube drones experience: all your personal stuff stays and you box up all the company items for removal. We determined that I needed to have all the computer equipment delivered to the local underwriting office on the other side of the metroplex from the castle by 3:30. Due to lunch plans, that meant that I had to stop working at 12:00 take have time to box everything up, get to lunch, and travel across the world to deliver the stuff on time.
I managed to get everything more or less in it's original packaging (when retained), loaded into the van and promptly delivered ahead of the deadline. Thus ended a little over six years (on this, my second, go round) with that employer.
The Queen asked me if I had any sad feelings about leaving after all that my bosses has done for me during her mystery illness. Honestly, I was too excited about he new job to feel sad about the old one. My bosses at the old job are good people, and I wish them the very best. I just have not been happy in that position for a long time.
Claims operations in major, publically traded companies have all pretty much evolved into the same bureaucratic nightmare that is soul killing and mind numbing. An adjuster is supposed to be a professional level position where you are paid to bring certain investigative and analytical skills to the table and to use those skills to make decisions and resolve claims. The profession has descended into a pseudo professional, clerical/data entry position with no respect or authority thanks to the meddling of uncounted middle managers fresh out of MBA school looking to make a name for themselves by creating some useless process or form that then becomes institutionalized. That discontent with seagull management was the main reason behind my decision to apply to law school. I had to make some effort to break loose from the rut.
Friday, December 30
The sun dawned on my first day of unemployment. I was not awake for that blessed event, but I have it on good authority that it occurred during my peaceful slumber since the sun was shining when my eyes opened. I might have gotten up to feed M&M sometime in the night. I don't recall at this point. We had a quiet day of things that I no longer remember at this point.
Saturday, December 31
The Queen and I decided to make the trek out to the brother in law's place to check in on The Queen's dad who has been fighting some health problems here of late. My father in law is a good man with a bit of a stubborn streak. He's not been near a doctor in over 40 years, and he's become a bit of a germaphobe as well. I suppose that's understandable after a long career as a self employed janitorial services provider.
At any rate, it has been painfully obvious that he has been dealing with an enlarged prostate for several years now...something which he has heretofor adamantly denied. Starting a couple of weeks ago, he started having to pee much more frequently, having nausea, etc. He tried to pass it off as having the flu or something.
Well, it didn't get any better; and, in fact, got worse. He lost his appetite which led to him getting weaker. He also refused to go to a doctor. Despite the pleas of pretty much everyone, he was bound and determined not to go to a doctor...all the while telling us that it felt like he was dying. When we got to the house and saw how bad things had gotten, we decided to spend the night at a nearby hotel (which necessitated us canceling the first night at our romantic getaway hotel) as my brother in law and his family where going to spending the night at a friends house leaving my father in law and mother in law to their own devices (not an especially wise idea under the circumstances). We went to the store and bought the makings for some homemade chicken broth as well as chicken and rice soup based on the broth.
We were also successful in convincing him to go see The Queen's chiropractor who helped her quite a bit during the course of the mystery illness. Unfortunatly, it being a holiday weekend, we weren't able to be him an appointment until the following Wednesday.
Sunday, January 1
We spent the day with The Queen's parents until her brother and his family returned. Then, we scooted off to our super secret romantic getaway hotel whereupon a lovely dinner was had, some wine was imbibed and we enjoyed a little quality time away from the cares of this world. You don't need to know all the sordid details.
Monday, January 2
The day dawned with me leaned back in a chair and M&M asleep on my chest after she slurped down a bottle at the ridiculous hour of 5:00am. Oh well. The sun was shining, we had a lake view to enjoy together and The Queen was snoozing peacefully in bed beside us. We had hoped to be able to spend a little time walking by the lake after breakfast; however, such was not to be. M&M was scheduled to have a visit with her bio parents at the CPS offices at one particular location. About 9:30, we got a call from the caseworker asking us if we could deliver her to an alternate location further away as the bio parents allegedly had car trouble. This alternate location just happened to be closer to the bio parents apartment (less than a mile away, but don't ask me how I know that). We agreed to the change (as if we had any choice in the matter) even though it killed off our leisurely walking around time.
We arrived at the CPS office very early to avoid any possibility of meeting the birth parents. Or so we thought. The lady at the front desk had no idea who we were or who was supposed to take custody of M&M. Come to find out, a caseworker from the original location was coming to the alternate to handle the visit. Unfortunately, she did not arrive until 5 minutes before the scheduled visit time. We were all out in the parking lot handing over M&M to the caseworker and updating her on feeding and diaper status when, lo and behold, the birth parents and M&M's half brother walked up and said "You must be the foster parents." Can you say awkward? Did I mention that they arrived in a perfectly functional late model pickup truck? Color me unhappy. I hope they did not notice the fact that my skin was crawling when I said that we didn't want to take away from their visit time with M&M so that The Queen and I could get the Hell out of there. I won't say my true opinion of them out of respect for M&M, but I was hearing banjos.
The Queen and I suffered through a stomach churning lunch during the hour long visit at a nearby location awaiting the caseworker's call that it was time to come get M&M. I don't want to sound unduly mean to the bio parents, but I truly hope they do not get their act together so that we can hopefully keep M&M.
Tuesday, January 3
The Queen graciously took the night duty with M&M so that I could have a full night's sleep for my first day at the new job. I awoke before the light of day to have plenty of time to get ready, avoid traffic and arrive on time. I was successful on all counts even arriving about 20 minutes earlier than required and well ahead of my new boss.
After being let in by the receptionist, I sat in my new office for all of a few minutes before one of my new coworkers whisked me away on a grand tour of the office and introductions to those employees that had already made it in for the day. After that, it was a code of hours worth of paperwork and benefits discussions with HR. I returned from HR to find my swag had been delivered by IT. Brand, spanking new top of the line iPhone and iPad had been placed on my desk. Sweet. Then, we split for lunch. After some good barbecue, it was back to HR for compensation discussion and more paperwork. I was told to go home after that. There are worse ways to start a new job.
Wednesday, January 4
Signing bonus check delivered. Yea, baby. Started getting familiar with the computer, etc. Remember my father in law, e stubborn one who was scheduled to see the doctor today. That was supposed to happen at 2:00. Right after lunch, I get a call from The Queen that she talked to her brother who had helped FIL to the car. FIL was not doing well. The Queen was scared and really wanted to get him to a hospital but didn't think her dad would go. She was asking me if I could come be the voice of reason and put a gun to his head if necessary. I told her I would check on the options and get back with her.
Fortunately, there was a party scheduled at the office for 3:00. It seems I came on board just as the original CEO was stepping down. This was the official transition party. So, I spoke to my boss. He understood and said I could bail out of the party which I'm a little disappointed to have missed. It was quite the spread.
On the way to the doctor's office to meet up with The Queen, I called her for an update. The doc did some of his hoodoo voodoo and came to the conclusion that it might be a ruptured appendix. Fortunately, the possibility of a ruptured appendix trumped any further stubbornness and germaphobia with my FIL. He readily agreed to go to the hospital. I arrived there at about 5:30 after making detours for food and other necessities at The Queen's request.
After much poking, prodding and diagnostic prognosticating, the verdict was what I had been suspecting all along: my father in law's prostate had enlarged to the point that it clamped off the urethra causing his bladder to swell and back up everything to the point of causing acute renal failure. He was immediately catheterized; and, within 10 minutes, he had filled a 2 liter catheter bag and was still going strong. The nurse showed him the bag and said "This is how big your bladder was." Guys, seriously, don't mess around with your prostate health once you get passed 40. The ER folks admitted him for monitoring to make sure his kidneys came back on line (which they have) and for blood pressure monitoring among other things. We think he will be discharged tomorrow or Tuesday.
Thursday, January 5
The only event worth mentioning here is that The Queen now has a chariot worthy of her royal highness. We have been rolling around in two aging but paid for vehicles for quite some time now. With the addition to the family, I had promised The Queen a newer vehicle, and we had been on the hunt since I received the official job offer. We found a really good deal on a gently used Lincoln Navigator. Now my girls are stylin' in a pimpin' ride. This thing has so many gizmos it almost ridiculous.
Friday, January 6
So, there I am at my desk trying to get up to speed on things when a curious email crosses my screen. The company is having everyone dress up in a couple of weeks for formal portraits. Okay. No big deal. The stated purpose is so that the company can send them out to the clients so they can put a face with the name. Also buried in the email is that certain executives will need a double time slot for extra pictures to be used on the company web page, in newsletters, etc. Following that was a listing of those executives who will need the extra time. Imagine my surprise when I discovered my name was on that list. When did I become an executive and why didn't anyone tell me? Talk about an ego boost.
That's the news fit to print from Castle Erickson for now. Tune in again next time when I decide to put up some real content about something more or less important. Maybe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)