If Anyone is So Inclined…

Today MIGHT be my birthday; and, even though we don’t celebrate birthdays for religious reasons, I would not say no to someone who gifted me this out of the generosity of their heart. That is one super sexy piece of pistol, and the matching pocket knife…chef’s kiss. Sigh….i suspect I will have to resign myself to lusting at photos. 

 

It’s So Cute And Fluffy

I realized, as I sit here decompressing from a hectic day of work and travel, that have been remiss in introducing you all to the latest addition to the menagerie. It’s a little female murder floof that came to us in the what is becoming our usual way of acquiring murder floofs (flooves?). 

The Queen, as has been reported on previous occasions, has a knack (some may call it a gift or a curse) for premonition when it comes to animals in distress. Murder floofs in particular. So, back in the fall, she was out an about taking a walk in the town cemetery in the evening for a bit of exercise. She later reported that she had been having a premonition about a murder floof for a couple of weeks. 

Had she mentioned that last bit BEFORE she went for a walk, I would have hand cuffed her and stuffed her in a straight jacket until the feelings passed. But, such was not the case. 

Any kitten, The Queen is strolling casually around the cemetery when, out of nowhere, a very tiny murder floof comes up to her starts playing “c’m’ere go’way” running up to The Queen only to scamper out of arms reach. This went on for a bit, and The Queen recognized that A) this was a very young murder floof, 2) said floof was not terribly healthy, and c) the cemetery offered nothing in the way of food, water or shelter for a floof. The Queen set about making efforts to lure the tiny floof home. 

Bear in mind that this is occurring a bare 2-3 days before we have to leave to go on a church camping trip to Missouri. We estimated that the as yet to be identified gender kitten was approximately 6 weeks old, very malnourished and afflicted with a raging case of diarrhea and a prolapsed pooter port. Chances of finding a willing home for an unhealthy kitten in our area on short notice border on lottery winner odds. We made a game effort, but the only responder was looking for a barn cat. When we reported that the tiny murder floof was nowhere near ready to go toe to toe with field mice much less larger critters, they faded back into the woodwork never to be heard from again. 

Proto Murder Floof - forgot to rotate the photo

So, guess who took a long road trip to Missouri with us. We are such suckers. 

Murder Floof was super puny, but she was (and still is) super cute. She was barely the size of my hands put together. We wound up taking her to a vet clinic in Missouri while were there since her bowels were a mess and we did not want her to die from an infection or something related to the prolapsed exit orifice. The vet poked and prodded and pronounced the (presumed) female kitten reasonably capable of survival with some care. Even the vet had a hard time guessing gender at the time. 

The Namening process went surprisingly well considering our history. Initially, we called her Hershey in honor of her bowel movements, but The Queen and M&M ultimately landed on Cocoa Nut. So, her full name is Hershey Cocoa Nut. 

Yes, we are weird about animal names. No, we don’t care. 

She is now about 6 months old give or take a few weeks. She has fully recovered from her early maladies though her bowel movements can still peel paint and she refuses to cover them up. I don’t think she can stand to be in the litter box with them either. She’s only a lap kitten on an infrequent basis, but she will roll around next to you and let you pet her until she finds a reason to leave. Her purr is one of the loudest we’ve heard, and her tail could be used as a feather duster. She does enjoy being held, and she is a holy terror to the other animals. 

 

More Adventures in the Life of a Full Time RVer

I didn’t intend for this blog to become an all RV all the time channel, but this winter and now into spring has become the gift that keeps on giving in terms of content worthy headaches. I think we had at least three polar vortexes (vortices?) this year with temperatures dropping down into the teens which is unusual for us. In a normal winter, North Texas might get a week of really cold weather and maybe a little bit of snow and ice. We toy with freezing temperatures, but sub 20 degree weather is pretty rare. 

This year…we got down to the low teens and several days that never got above freezing at all. That’s also not normal or happy making. Especially if you live full time in an RV.

Why? In a word, water. More specifically, keeping it in its liquid form so it does not destroy everything in sight. 

This last dip into sub freezing temps saw the kitchen grey water discharge hose freeze solid. That allowed the kitchen grey tank to fill and eventually ruptured the discharge pipe from the tank to the outlet hose connection. That pipe is in the underbelly where it’s supposed to be protected from the elements and kept above freezing by the main propane furnace whose main job is to fill the underbelly with hot air. 

Guess what crapped the bed in the middle of all this. If you guessed the main propane furnace, give yourself a prize. 

The furnace is a deceptively simple mechanism which has almost no moving parts. Two in fact: the squirrel cage fan and the “sail switch”. Of those two parts, the sail switch is the one more prone to failure. Its job is to tell the circuit board that the fan is running before the board allows the igniter to fire and light off the propane. The fan has to run a purge cycle before the furnace will light so that a buildup of propane doesn’t turn the furnace into a bomb. 

The aptly named sail switch has a thin, metal “sail” about 3.5 inches long that gets blown by the fan and completes a circuit. The switch is prone to failing due to dust, pet hair, moon phases, dust bunnies, actual bunnies, solar eclipses and probably fascist dictatorships for all I know. 

Dead sail switch

After successfully locating the sail switch on my furnace thoughtfully wedged up against an exterior wall with no access panel to facilitate easy access, I set about trying to extricate the furnace without damaging things further. 

Exterior furnace access panel - on some other, smarter manufacturer’s RV

I also had to try to find a replacement sail switch that was in stock and didn’t have to be shipped from China or Point Nemo. I called the dealer from whom we bought the RV. They assured me they had one in stock. So, I beat feat early in the morning but after rush hour to make the hour long drive to Fort Worth. I picked up the part and went on my merry way. 

I will confess here that my first mistake was not taking the original part with me to compare. In my defense, I had not succeeded in removing it yet. So, there was that. I did note at the time that the part in the bag looked different than the image on the website. 

The website image

The part I picked up - notice the wider sail

I truck back to home base and find time the next day to attempt to remove the old part and install the new part…only to discover that the new part no fit. The sail is too wide and interferes with the fan. 

Well…that’s no bueno. 

So, I called the dealership to figure out what’s what. They insist it’s the right part. The part number matches. I say verily the numbers do match but the part she no match. Much head scratching ensued, and I was told to reach out to another parts person to sort things out. That’s fine and dandy, but I needed the furnace to work now. So, I reached out to another dealership closer to home that vowed they too had the self same part in stock. I said, great. Be there in 20 minutes. 

Correct packaging and part number

Correct looking part

Old and new - we have a match

With the correct part in hand, reinstallation was a breeze and the furnace fired up without a hitch. Success!

The very next day, we got above freezing. At which time we discovered the aforementioned ruptured plumbing. Sometimes, you just can’t win for losing. 

Fast forward now a week or so, and March has started roaring in like a lion. I’m here to tell you, it ain’t messin’ about none this year. It’s the windiest I remember seeing in a long time. 

Anywho, went to bed last night to the RV being shaken about by sustained winds in the 30-40 MPH range with gusts above 55MPH (later confirmed to be above 80MPH). That really didn’t concern me as I sleep like the dead. 

That is until a very loud boom woke me out of a deep sleep around 2:30AM. The Queen was still awake (she’s the night owl), and I subsequently discovered M&M was awake because she was having trouble sleeping. 

I got a flashlight out to go check for damage only to open the door ripped out of my hand by wind. Much to my surprise, I discovered an 8 foot long, 4 to 6 inch thick tree branch at the base of the steps next to the RV. I initially that that was a near miss as I saw other, smaller branches on the roof. After a brief perusal of the weather, we retreated to Mimi’s house for the rest of the night just to be on the safe side. 

This morning dawned to a still windy but clearing day. About mid morning, MandM and I came back over the RV to care for animals and generally check things over. M pointed at the ceiling in the kitchen and said “what’s that?”

The “what’s that?” In question

I took one look, said “Oh crap” and headed to the roof. Which is when I found this:

One good sized chuck of tree limb skewering the roof. 

More holes in the roof

Scattered tree bits and carnage

So, what I thought was a near miss was, in fact a direct hit through the deck. Fortunately, it was nowhere near anyone’s vital bits and the secondary AC unit was spared a severe beating. 

The claim has already been filed, and I’ve reached out to a local dealer to get the ball rolling on scheduling the repair once we have the estimate and parts in hand. 

As I said on my personal Facebook: Thank you Lord for thinking about me. We’re alive and doing fine. 

Sunday Funnies

True story. When I first met The Queen, her refrigerator contained a bottle of ketsup and a half a watermelon that was so desiccated that it had turned into a raisin.  

Once upon a time in the early days of the world wide we’d, there was a website with something called “The Urinal Test” (IIRC). My brother-in-law’s mother sat down to take the test with me, my brother-in-law, his brother and his father all watching. As I recall, she got them all wrong, but we got 100% correct explaining the male mind in choosing the correct urinal for various situations. 

 

Sabbath Snuggles

 

“And Then They Put The Cuffs On…”

 So, recently, Number One Follower, brother by choice and all around best bud, posted the following meme on the Book of Feces:

Now, at this point, I’ve been around him for 34 years, and I know most of the good stories and was present for more than a few. There was the purple stuff incident, “METEORS, DUH!”, and “He’s here with his thug friends”. 

The ensuing comment exchange saw NOF throwing down the gauntlet with: “… can any life truly be considered complete until you can tell a story that has “and then they put the cuffs on me “in it?”

To which I replied: “I have one of those stories.”

This is that story. It’s not the most exciting story about getting cuffed, but it’s mine. 

So, there I was, early in my career as a claims adjuster. Still wet behind the ears in terms of experience and generally naive about the ways in which the world in general and the legal system in particular conspire to screw people over. This was my first “professional” job after college for a company that I had worked for during college. Shortly before this incident, I had turned in my notice and was going to go to work for the family business (turns out that circumstances conspired to make that not happen, but that’s a story for another time). 

As a claims adjuster, my job was (still is) to investigate claims, evaluate them and settle them. One such claim involved an auto accident down in Houston, TX in which a mother and her two kids were rear ended in a car by someone insured by the company I worked for. As is frequently the case, the mom retained an attorney who filed a lawsuit. Eventually, we came to a mutually agreeable settlement. I can’t recall the amount we paid to mom, but we settled the two kids for $900 each. 

When dealing with the claims of minor children, there are two main methods of getting a release of claim for your insured. First, you can get the court to appoint an attorney as a “guardian ad litem”, hold a hearing on the reasonableness of the settlement and then the guardian signs off on the release. Or, you can choose to go with a “parent/guardian indemnity release”. Some states require the ad litem process or set minimum thresholds to go through that process. At the time, Texas did not require it or have a minimum threshold although it was generally advisable to do so if the kid was seriously injured or the parent had some conflict of interest or you just thought they were sketchy and needed someone more trustworthy to sign off on the deal. 

Anyway, these two kids went to the doctor one time and were young enough that they’d never remember they were in an accident much less that they were injured. So, we opted on the parent/guardian release. Both sets of attorneys agreed this was reasonable and proper. So, we cut checks, signed paperwork and plaintiffs’ counsel was to file a notice of non-suit with the court. 

For reasons that I never knew, their attorney filed a motion for non-suit instead of a notice. What’s the difference? A notice is just that. It tells the court the lawsuit is being dropped with no further action necessary. See you later. Thanks for playing. A motion, however, requires the court to set a hearing to officially rule on the motion. 

So, on the date of the motion, the attorneys show up for the hearing, and the judge asks “Where is the ad litem?” The attorneys state that no ad litem was retained in light of the minimal amount of damages and the parent/guardian release.

The judge. Lost. His. Furry. Little. Mind. 

The judge demanded a “Show Cause” hearing to explain why we violated a court order (which did not exist by the way) requiring a guardian ad litem to settle the claims of the minor children. He also issued a subpoena for me to appear at the hearing in person (more on that in a second). 

Unbeknownst to everyone, the judge had gotten HIS butt in a sling over a settlement involving a minor prior to his election to the bench. Hence, his serious case of the vapors over our following generally accepted practices. 

So, I was told to play nice and show up in Houston on the date of the appointed hearing. Knowing what I know now that the subpoena range in Texas is only 150 miles, I was at least 100 miles into “screw you” territory and could have told his (dis)honor to fold his subpoena up into 100 sharp, little corners and use it as an origami suppository. 

But I didn’t know that then. 

Anywho, I showed up in Houston after a bright and early flight from Dallas. We stroll into the courtroom to await our hearing. The judge came in and called the hearing to order at which time an assistant district attorney announced “ready”. 

This, as they say, should have been a clue as to what was to come. 

The ADA launched into questioning of the first witness, me, as to why I/we chose to violate the court’s order on minor settlements. This went on for some time. Apparently, the judge was not satisfied with the ADA’s questioning and proceeded to do his own questioning from the bench. 

When I finally answered his last question, which I gather did not please him, he immediately held me in contempt of court, sentenced me to be confined in the county jail for 1 day, fined me personally $500, fined both lawyers a much higher amount which is lost to my memory and fined the company I worked for $1,000,000. 

To say I was shocked was an understatement. I sat there with my jaw hanging open in utter disbelief at what I was hearing. The next thing I know, the attorney representing me at the hearing was asking me to hand over my belt, wallet, jewelry, etc so that it didn’t get lost in booking. 

While this was going on, the ADA was asking the judge if he was really supposed to have me booked in the county jail and suggested that my sentence might be better served out in the court’s jury room. 

Which is how I found myself handcuffed to a chair in the jury room of a Harris County courthouse. The bailiff was a tough as nails woman who made it clear that any effort on my part to escape would result in dire consequences. I assured her I had no intentions of going anywhere. 

That lasted about 10-15 minutes until it was time for a trial to begin in the same court. The bailiff came in to tell me I was being moved because they needed the jury room and the chair to which I was cuffed. I was uncuffed and led to the bailiff’s desk where I was told to sit quietly and don’t move. 

I did the best I could not to fidget, but jury selection is only minimally interesting if you’re not directly involved. Eventually, I had to go to the bathroom, and the bailiff allowed me to go unescorted with stern instructions to be back in 5 minutes or else. I returned promptly. 

Around about noon, the court recessed for lunch. The bailiff had to remind the judge that I was still technically in custody and what should she do with me. He told her to release me, and I was given the green light to go forth amongst the general public again. Since I had literally nothing but the clothes on my back, I asked the bailiff if I could make a local call to which she agreed. 

I called my attorney’s office to come get me which they did. I later learned that they had spent the morning on the phone trying to figure out how to spring me from custody only to be brought up short by my early release. 

That lead to the discussions about what to do next and how to appeal to ruling. 

Long story short: we hired the judge’s ex-girlfriend who was a partner at a very prestigious law firm (and later a president of the state bar association) who filed an appeal with the criminal court of appeals. The appellate court tried to beg off issuing a ruling by claiming it was a civil matter and they were a criminal court of appeals. Our attorney filed a blistering motion for rehearing basically saying “Oh yes it is” citing the incarceration and fines which made it their jurisdiction. 

The court of appeals made a call to the judge and, from what I understand, said words to the effect of “Make this go away or else.”

Tbe next day, the judge entered a docket note vacating his prior ruling. We briefly considered filing a lawsuit against the judge for violating my civil rights, abuse of office and whatever else we could think of. Ultimately, we chose not to as it would cost us more than the damages we could reasonably argue to recover. 

The judge has since retired from the bench and still works as a mediator last I heard. He also went through a rather nasty divorce which included some rumors of drugs and infidelity on the wife’s side. Not too long ago, he was proposed as a mediator on one of my cases, and I said you don’t want me in the same room with him. 

So, that’s my “cuffs” story. Not all that exciting, but it’s the only one I intend to get. 

Monday Madness