Preachers and Horse Thieves

What Five?

2012-01-30T13:41:00.000-06:00

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.

Match Results

2012-01-24T12:33:00.001-06:00

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.

Let The Games Begin

2012-01-23T23:22:00.000-06:00

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.

About That Leather Upholstery...

2012-01-18T23:57:00.002-06:00

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.

WARHAMMER!!!!

2012-01-16T01:18:00.000-06:00

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.

The Everything Update Post

2012-01-08T13:55:00.000-06:00

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.

I'm Not Bribing These People, I Promise

2011-12-28T09:33:00.000-06:00

This is becoming a rather regular phenomena. I'm not sure whether to be disturbed or comforted. I opened up Blogger to start working on my yearly homage to The Queen's moment of weakness in deciding to marry me; and, lo and behold, there's another shiny, new, official follower there on the dashboard waiting for me. Number 46 if Blogger is to be believed. It gives me great pleasure to welcome Odysseus from the blog By Other Means. Odysseus, thank you for taking the time to publicly shame yourself by following my little corner of insanity. I don't promise to be good or regular or consistent, but I just might succeed in putting a rational thought together once in a while.

Am I Giving Away Cash or Something?

2011-12-27T11:34:00.001-06:00

A quick check of the blog this morning reveals another new follower. Officially, number 45 in the follower list goes to txmuziklover. Based on his profile, it does not appear that he has a blog of his own. Txmuziklover, if that is incorrect or changes in the future, let me know and I will update the rest of the congregation. In the meantime, thank you for taking the time to follow my humble home on the internet. Welcome, I hope you enjoy.

Correction from the comments:

Our new follower is The Impulsive Texan from the blog of the same name. Follow the link for more.

More New Follower Goodness

2011-12-22T10:43:00.001-06:00

I just pulled up Blogger for a little stat counter nosiness and discovered a slight uptick in the number of followers. With the addition of HH, the congregation of official followers is now up to 44 (although there are 50 something of you as subscribers if Google Reader is to be believed). HH does not appear to have an active blog at this time. If that changes in the future HH, let me know and I'll be sure to update things accordingly. In the meantime, welcome. Enjoy and comment to your heart's content. Just don't touch the pie in the fridge. You have no idea how much shaming and guilting of a certain niece it took to get that pie.

Update: HH stands for Heroditus Huxley, and HH's blog is www.theantisoma.blogspot.com. A quick perusal suggest that HH's corner of the blogosphere is right up my alley. You might find it interesting as well.

She's a Genius

2011-12-18T23:50:00.000-06:00

So, I was sharing some quality time with M&M whilst feeding her a bottle earlier this evening. For a we little tyke just shy of eight pounds, she chugs formula down like college freshman fraternity pledges guzzle down cheap beer. She farts and belches like one too. I am convinced she's smarter than your average fraternity pledge by at least an order of magnitude.

At any rate, I took the opportunity of our little mealtime one on one to discuss the finer points of Major League Baseball and last years World Series with M&M. The conversation went something like this.

Me: So, how about them Rangers?

M&M: [suck, suck, suck...] URP!

Me: I suppose you're right. Their performance in the series sucked so bad it would make me want to spit up too. So, do you think they have a chance at winning next year and avoiding the stigma of becoming the Buffalo Bills of baseball?

M&M: [fart]

Me: Yep, I think I have to agree. Their chances definitely stink.

I think she's got a great future as a sports or political commentator. What do you think?

In other news, The Queen and I shared a tearful moment earlier this evening while out shopping. We were making our semi monthly, post paycheck pilgrimage to Whole Foods to stock up on food. Along the way, we stopped off at a thrift store The Queen frequents to see if a "baby coat" could be located for M&M as "The Rules" requires to have one for her. I question the wisdom of these rules given the fact that newborns spend 95% of their time swaddled in onesies and blankets. The remainder of their time is spent stark naked getting their butt wiped mid diaper change.

While on the subject of diaper changes, if anyone can come up with a diaper changing gizmo sort of like a mechanical bidet that hoses them off, drys them and stuffs them into a new nappie, I'd be standing in line with cash.

Any stinky digression, while at the thift store, The Queen found a CD for the soundtrack to the movie Prince of Egypt. The Queen and I are suckers for animated movies. The fact that Prince of Egypt was a more or less Biblically based movie was a bonus. We even chose the song "When You Believe" as the song we had our first dance to at our wedding. I could have lived without Whitney and Mariah moaning throughout the song, but it's still a good song nonetheless. So, we get back in the car and pop the CD in to have a listen and see how M&M responds.

Then it happens. I start getting all teary eyed. I'm serious. I turned into a little puddle of sappiness. There are maple trees in Canada less sappy than me at that moment. The Queen looks at me all concerns and asks what's wrong. I choked out something to the affect that the CD is a perfect soundtrack to M&M's situation. The Queen asked what I meant, and I said that the story of Moses is one of adoption. The song "When You Believe" is all about faith and miracles. Then The Queen starts crying. Tears of joy I assure you.

M&M is our little miracle delivered through faith. I thank God for her everyday.

The Super Secret Special News

2011-12-15T19:09:00.000-06:00

It’s official. I can finally discuss the super secret special news that has been in the works. Since I have a very smart and astute group of readers, I doubt this news will come as much of a surprise to you all. But, at least now I can pay off the hints I’ve been dropping here and there.

For the last month, I have been in the interview process for what turned out to be an extremely selective company. Today, I received and accepted what I can only describe as an incredible offer. I was selected over 25 other applicants that have been invited to go through the process since May. That should tell you a little about how seriously this company has taken the hiring process.

The process started for me a month ago when I received a call out of the blue from a recruiter I’ve talked to a couple of times over the years. He had seen my resume posted on an industry job posting website which had been posted several years ago when I was trying to get a job back in Dallas to be back with The Queen during the darkest days of the mystery illness. We chatted for a bit, and he asked how things were going. I brought him up to speed on my world, and he mentioned that he was working on something but that I sounded pretty comfortable where I was. I almost shot the job down out of hand when the recruiter mentioned a certain type of claims that are anathema to me being involved with the job. Fortunately, further discussion revealed that those certain claims were a relatively small part of the job.

Anyway, the more we talked, the more interesting the opportunity became. I agreed to have the recruiter submit my resume to the company. They got back with me almost immediately to schedule an interview for the following week. From there, things have been moving remarkably fast for this type of position.

There some odd yet interesting highlights to the process. One was the spelling test. This company has institutionalized a spelling test as part of the hiring process. Basically, it’s one sheet of paper with about a 100 words on it. You have to circle the misspelled words. Apparently, if you do not do well on that small task, you don’t get to the next phase. I was told that it is amazing how many “well qualified” people do not pass the test. I was also told that I scored a 98 which has me puzzling over which two words I missed.

The other was the psychological evaluation which I mentioned previously. After the initial interview, I had to complete a battery of online assessments before meeting with psychologist in person. The battery of tests was intense. It seriously felt like I was taking the GRE and LSAT all at once. The in person interview with the psychologist was easy by comparison.

Yesterday was the final interview; and, at the end of the interview, the VP of claims and the CEO of the company said they were definitely interested in my and would get back to me with an offer ASAP. The offer arrived via email this morning; and, after a series of phone calls, we were able to come to some very agreeable terms.

So, what will I be doing? My official title will be claim consultant which is the same title I currently work under; however, the two positions are worlds apart. At my current company, a claim consultant is a frontline claims adjuster who handles claims and nothing else. At the new company, a claim consultant is part claims adjuster, part home office oversight for third party administrators and part account manager. The new company is also much smaller than my current company which means flatter management (my boss will be the VP of claims who reports to the CEO), less bureaucracy, more responsibility, etc. After the past six years with a large (30,000+ employees), old company with a huge, distant, entrenched bureaucracy, being able to literally walk down the hall and talk with the CEO to get a decision is huge for me.

Did I mention I will get my own private office with a nice view?

There is a fairly heavy, nationwide travel requirement with the new position, and one of their conditions for offering the job was that they expected me to leave law school behind. That condition alone led to several late night discussions with The Queen. We ultimately decided that I would agree to leave law school if the job were offered for several reasons. First, law school and becoming a lawyer were never “The Dream”. At most, it was a means of moving forward to make The Dream possible. Second, the money involved with this job is good enough that we will be able to get out of debt much sooner than we would have otherwise (as opposed to going further into debt with student loans). If I hate the job or the people (both unlikely after the process I’ve been through), I can stomach it long enough to save some cash back to make going back to school less of a burden. Third, I really didn’t comprehend how difficult working full time and going to law school was going to be. It really was too much. I had too many late nights. Work was suffering, school work and study weren’t as good as they could have been, and I really wasn’t able to give everything to The Queen that she deserved. If I could go to school full time and do nothing else, that would be one thing. As it is, I could probably do it, but at what cost?

With the family rapidly expanding, the money was a major factor in the decision as well. The company said they wanted the very best people and compensates them accordingly. I will tell you that the money is well above average for the industry. To give you an idea, my salary was already above average for the company I’m with (and the industry for what I do) because I was allowed to keep my supervisor’s salary when I stepped down to move back home and take care of The Queen. The new company is offering a very nice pay increase (in the double digits by percentage) with a significant signing bonus which makes for a pretty big incentive to make a change.

I wish I could say that I have mixed feelings about the whole thing, but I really don’t. I’m too excited about the new position, the people I’ll be working with and what it means for The Queen and our growing little family to be anything but happy.

New Nickname

2011-12-13T17:51:00.000-06:00

The Queen, M&M and I had our first visit from the adoption agency caseworker last night. Everything went well. I was able to confirm that there is no harm in sharing basic information about the child via social media (i.e. you guys). So, it pleases me no end to tell you all that M&M is a happy and contented little girl. It took me all of two seconds to become attached to the little angel after she snuggled up on my chest and went to sleep.

I still can't share photos which really stinks because I've got some good ones. For now, you'll just have to settle for this photo with Spanky McCloud serving as M&M's stunt double.

Speaking of Spanky and M&M, Spanky was not real sure what M&M was at first. I think he was concerned that he might be replaced. At first, he wouldn't go anywhere near M&M. Then he'd be extra rambunctious like he was performing or auditioning to keep his job as resident cute thing and attention whore. Finally, he jumped up on the bed where M&M was temporarily sacked out and gave her a tentative sniff from a near her feet. Then he moved around to where her head was, laid down within paw's reach and gently reached out to touch her head with his paw. I have a photo of that and will share it when I can.

The Queen has a better story about bath time. Unfortunately, we don't have photos or video of this one. The Queen gave M&M her first bath at our house. Spanky decided to come check things out. He put his front paws on the edge of the basis where M&M was being bathed, reached out to touch her head and then licked his paw where he had just touched her. He did that a couple of times according to The Queen. We're not sure if he was trying to help bath her or find out what she tastes like. Next time bath time rolls around, I'll be standing by with the camera.

Finally, the punch line of the post title. The Queen has now bestowed a new title upon your humble Shepherd. I now bear the official title of Daddy Hawk. Apparently, The Queen has been immensely impressed with how I've responded to M&M and fatherhood (especially considering my lack of parenting experience prior to M&M's arrival in comparison with The Queen's vast experience with caring for children from her days as a nanny). She's commented to others about how I've been very attentive, watchful and protective of M&M. So, she started referring to me as Daddy Hawk.

I like it. I can see it now: M&M comes home from school all sad because some boy teased her, and I will get to say, "Aw, sweetheart, which little boy does Daddy Hawk have to go kill and make it all better?" Come to think of it, I might just have to get the grips on the 1911 I plan on buying engraved with "Daddy Hawk".

To all the little boys in the neighborhood, don't even think about it. Daddy Hawk is well armed and he's watching you.

Baby Update

2011-12-11T01:55:00.005-06:00

Well, dear readers, the baby and freshly minted foster parents survived their first night together. All indications are good that tonight will be successful as well.

I promised more to follow, and I intend to give you just as much detail as I can. Since the little one (the child’s nickname from this point forward will be M&M – a play on the initials of the first and middle names we selected should we be allowed to adopt) is a ward of the state and we are merely the caregivers (for the time being), I am limited by law and contract in what I can do with and say about M&M.

One of the main things I can’t do is post photographs. It has to do with the privacy and protection of the child. I am not sure how a parent whose child has been taken away would find a photograph of their child if all identifying information had been left off, but supposedly it happens. We are allowed to take photos for personal use (and we have). If we are fortunate enough to be allowed to formally adopt M&M, we will be free to share everything then.

Anyway, back to the story telling. Friday started out normally enough. I trudged my way past traffic caused by a two cat pile up in the hallway, let the dogs out and settled into my morning routine. I had a conference call/webinar for a refresher course on handling claims involving Medicare liens (snoozer…hit mute and continue working) that started at 1:00 PM. About ten or 15 minutes into the call, I heard The Queen’s booted footsteps running across the kitchen through the pantry and into the TV room outside my office. She came to a skidding halt when she saw my headset on which is her signal that I am busy at work and to wait for my attention. Since she doesn’t normally run across the house to get my attention, she got it fairly quickly.

Once I confirmed that I was muted, I turned around as my desk chair faces away from the door so I can look out the window into the back yard. The Queen blurted out, “Renee [our adoption coordinator] just called. They have a three week old baby, and CPS is on their way over here now with the baby.” I had the mental equivalent of the record player needle being dragged across the record when my brain completely locked up. The Queen continued, “I need help to get the house ready. They’ll be here in about an hour.” I allowed as how I was tied up with the conference call and would come assist as soon as I was free. It took me a few minutes for my brain to process things and realize that 1) we had just received our first foster child placement, 2) the child was en route to the house right then and there, 3) The Queen needed help, and 4) everything else was unimportant and could wait until later. Once my brain had finished catching up with reality, I confirmed with the training coordinator that the power point materials would be distributed via email. With that done, I hung up and walked away from the desk to assist The Queen in the whirlwind cleaning of the house.

We finished with plenty of time to spare. As it turns out, the CPS caseworker was running behind schedule due to traffic and bad directions. Once we got her pointed in the right direction, it was only five minutes or so before they would arrive. I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I dragged The Queen outside to wait on the front porch for M&M to arrive with the CPS caseworker. I felt it important that we show CPS that we were excited and eager for M&M’s arrival.

They pulled into the driveway a little after 3:00 PM, and The Queen and I all but said, “Gimme, gimme, gimme.” when the nice caseworker lady stepped out of her car. She opened the car door to get M&M. I immediately offered to take the baby carrier, and we escorted everyone into the house. Once inside, we got our first look at M&M. Absolutely the most precious child I have ever laid eyes on. And tiny too. M&M was born prematurely, and technically should not even be born yet today. Ready or not, M&M is here now. We signed some mercifully brief paperwork with the caseworker, asked a few questions and unloaded M&M’s horde of possessions.

This was totally unexpected and, as the caseworker confirmed, very unusual. Normally, when you get a placement of a foster child, you are lucky to get any clothing or belongings. In our foster parent training, we were told to expect to have to make a run to the store for clothes, diapers, formula, etc. Not so with M&M. M&M came loaded for bear complete with brand new car seat, play pen, clothes, five bags of preemie diapers, blankets, and cases of special preemie formula which is being downed at a prodigious rate. The Queen had found a great deal a few weeks ago on a new stroller which mates up perfectly with the car seat. So, that was already here and ready to go along with the crib that my sister…the devil had used for my nieces which had been stored at Mimi’s house for the past twelve years or so. Topped off with a new, mattress obtained by The Queen, and we were set for kiddos.

After the CPS worker left at about 3:45 or 4:00, we started trying to figure out the game plan for the evening. We debated going to the store for some things, but decided we wanted to introduce M&M to the family right away. The Queen wanted to surprise her parents. So, the plan was that we would just show up unannounced. I called my mom and dad to let them know. Mom wanted to come to us, but we told her we would come her way since it was more or less in the direction we needed to go for The Queen’s folks. There was a little confusion and miscommunication on the exact order of the visits, but we got that sorted out in short order. Everyone in the immediate family except for my dad has seen M&M, and dad is planning on coming by tomorrow for a visit.

The Queen and I got home late Friday night and made a quick snack while we got M&M fed, changed and put to bed. We were told to expect the child to sleep about four or five hours. M&M had other ideas. I had first shift and got up about two and half hours after going to sleep. If you want to call it sleep. After five years of dealing with The Queen’s mystery illness, I am an attentive sleeper when caretaking is required. I spent most of my sleep time listening for M&M to see if there was any distress since we hadn’t really had any time yet to get to learn M&M’s normal sounds. Feedings and diaper changes went smoothly through the night. M&M has a good appetite and no obstructions on the used formula end of the equation.

We now know quite a bit more about M&M’s situation than we did yesterday when CPS left the house as we found M&M’s hospital records in the bag o’ stuff we received from CPS. I was not amused to find out that some of the things we were told were flat out wrong, whether by design, omission or human error. Some of those things are mildly concerning as they have a potential impact on M&M’s future health. Some of those things deal with actions and attitudes of certain blood relations of M&M’s. Those little nuggets of information are the reason I am withholding some potentially identifying information such as date of birth, gender, ethnicity, etc. because there is a real need to protect M&M under the circumstances. However, none of those little factoids are M&M’s fault and don’t change my feelings toward the baby in the slightest.

For now, I am comforted to know (and I hope it will comfort you all as well) that M&M is in overall healthy condition considering the premature birth and some of the attendant circumstances leading to the premature birth. Neurological and septic issues have been ruled out. Respiration is good. There is an intermittent cardiac issue which will be monitored over the next couple of months. Hearing checked out normal. Vision appears to be okay. Eating and elimination are functioning properly as indicated earlier. M&M’s diet will have to be monitored and adjusted for the near term which is normal for preemies from what I understand. We are required by law and contract to have a doctor’s appointment scheduled within the first thirty days regardless.

So, what’s next?

According to the paperwork, CPS expects M&M to be in foster care for one year. It is possible that it could be less or more. Much depends on the birth parents actions over the next month or two as to which way that will go. If the birth parents voluntarily terminate their rights, The Queen and I would be eligible to adopt M&M after the child has been in our home for no less than six months starting from Friday. In the meantime, CPS will proceed with attempts to reunite the child with the birth family. The first step in that process is a supervised visit at the CPS offices. If the parents are a no show, additional efforts are made. However, each no show by the parents or failure to comply with the care plan (including parenting classes and other requirements depending on circumstances) makes it more and more likely that CPS will move to have parental rights terminated involuntarily. Once their rights are terminated, M&M would be available for adoption.

Though not guaranteed, it is our understanding that The Queen and I, as the foster parents, would have right of first refusal if there were no other blood relatives interested in taking the child. We have been told that there are no other blood relatives in the picture. That may change.

In the meantime, we are going to enjoy every moment we have with M&M who, so far, has been an absolute angel. This child does not fuss. Being held, lying down, riding in the car, being passed around in the musical family members game, getting a bath…doesn’t matter. The kid is as content and even tempered as any child I’ve seen. This too may change, but I hope not.

That’s it for now. I need to get a cat nap before coming back on duty at 4:15. Y’all play nice while I snooze.

New Follower #43

2011-12-10T09:21:00.000-06:00

In addition to the baby in the house, I awoke to discover another new follower. Welcome, Crex. I apologize for the brevity of the welcome this morning, but we didn't get much sleep last night. If you have a blog you would like me to link to, drop me a comment and I'll fix things up on an update.

BABY!!!!!

2011-12-09T16:16:00.001-06:00

As I type, there is a three week old baby in my arms and tears of joy in my eyes. More to follow.

That New Follower Smell

2011-12-09T00:13:00.002-06:00

I am up late playing Words With Friends against my niece JuJu, The Queen and my sister...the devil, and I took a moment between turns to check out blogger and discovered a new follower hiding on the dashboard much to my surprise. Even though I now know how people find their way here (usually via other blogs), it still amazes me that people find my musings interesting enough to publicly associate themselves with my little corner of the internet.

At any rate, I'd like to give a warm welcome to Country Life Dreams (or maybe The Agrarian Homesteader...not sure exactly which) to the congregation. It does not appear that CLD (I hope you don't mind the abbreviation...if you don't, let me know) has a blog of his or her own. If that's not correct, I hope they will let me know in the comments so I can correct that. In the meantime, enjoy the show. There's bound to be a train wreck sooner or later.

Entertainment Weekly

2011-12-08T13:20:00.001-06:00

As The Queen will attest were she to take an interest in this blog after encouraging this outlet for my creativity, I am the last person you would ever want to ask about anything related to the entertainment industry. I could not care less which celebrity is being arrested for molesting doorknobs while driving under the influence of Chihuahua flatulence this week. I stepped off the "I give a flying flip at a rolling donut" pop culture bus sometime in the '90s and haven't really missed it.

Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy watching television and movies. I can normally identify major actors and their significant filmography without too much stuttering and "What's his name again?" I'm just not emotionally invested in the people or the goings on of Hollywood beyond the characters they portray. To borrow a phrase from another blogger (Jennifer...I think), just shut up and dance monkey.

So, for me to actually feel like something from the entertainment world is important enough to waste time and pixels to comment on should say something. The reason for this detour into gossip columnist territory is the Discovery show Sons of Guns.

SOG ended last season with a cliff hanger. The show's comic relief and heir apparent to the title of chief monkey, Kris Ford, was seen asking permission to date the boss' daughter, Stephanie. Without getting into the dynamic of fishing off the company pier for a moment or the attractiveness of Ms. Stephanie, let's examine the a) lack of gray matter between Kris' ears, or b) the size and composition of his family jewels. He asked his BOSS, a retired MARINE and maker of some serious WEAPONRY with access to untold acres of SWAMPLAND in which to HIDE a body, if he can date the BOSSman's daughter who is a gun nut in her own right. Either there is a "for rent" sign occupying the space inside Kris's skull or he has titanium armored, depleted uranium core cajones living in his boxers.

After having watched all episodes of the show so far, I would have to say that Mr. Ford is not stupid. He may be insane and/or be a love sick puppy, but he has too many cool ideas to be a world class moron. That leaves....

At the end of last season, the bossman, Will Hayden, gave Kris a choice: the job or the girl. I have to admit that I've been waiting for the answer for several months now, and last night was the pay off. Kris, in what I think was an excellent display of respect and humility towards his boss/father of the girl, chose the girl. I don't care who you are, it takes guts to be ready and willing to walk out on a dream job in this economy. To do it for someone you care about, should tell that person and anyone else volumes about your priorities in life.

I hope she appreciates it, and I wish them the best of luck dealing with the pressures of dating in the company pond and the fish bowl of national TV. I'll be watching.

Welcome New Follower - Part 41

2011-12-06T14:55:00.000-06:00

This is becoming habit forming...and I like it. I received a comment from SciFiChick earlier today letting me know she had made the dubious decision to follow yours truly. Welcome, SciFiChick. I'd offer you some coffee, but I can't stand the stuff. Your options are bourbon or iced tea.

According to her Blogger profile, she is currently involved with four blogs all of which appear to be focused on the prepper movement. Is it really a movement or is really just something we should have all learned when we grew up but failed to because we were indoctrinated by public schools? I Digress. Her flagship appears to be Bacon and Eggs. With a title like that, what's not to like? Oh, and if that's not enough, her post for today is a recipe for Hillbilly Pie which I am going to have to try. I can't resist a good dessert recipe.

Anypie, go check her out. Since The Queen and I have been feeling the need to become more self sufficient here lately, I plan on watching SciFiChick's blog for more recipes and information on what I should have learned 30 years ago.

One Down, How Many To Go?

2011-12-06T14:21:00.000-06:00

Well, as of 10:15 PM last night, my first semester of law school was done for better or worse. Now the wait for grades begins. Will he be allowed to take a second semester, or will he have his law school career tragically cut short by abysmal performances on the all or nothing finals? Stay tuned. Same Bat Channel. Same Bat Tim...er...whenever.

I have two words to say: KNOB CREEK.

Nine year old small batch bourbon in your backpack makes one very popular after an exam. Just sayin'

I never thought four hours would seem like too SHORT of a time for a final exam, but I and several others discovered that time is of no importance until it involves a law school final. I actually ran out of time on the Torts final and finished the criminal law final with only 15 minutes to spare. It felt more like 40 minutes instead of four hours it went by so fast.

Of the three classes they allowed us part timers to take, I feel the best about last night's final even though it was criminal law in which I have zero personal experience. As I told some of my class mates, I won't loose any points for not trying. I answered all the questions and made what I thought were solid efforts on both essay questions (one of which involved a jury instruction exercise for which I was out of town when it was covered in class).

The Torts final...well...who knew an open book, open outline test could be SO FRICKIN' hard? I answered all of the multiple choice questions and feel like I did fairly well there. I answered all but one of the nine short answer questions (the one I didn't answer should have been a full blown essay question). Unfortunately, I ran out of time during the dreaded essay question. It had a ton of issues to address, and I had spent way too much time in the short answer and MPC sections to cover it all. I had roughed in an outline, but I know I'm not getting full credit on that section.

c'est la vie

I really don't want to talk about my legal analysis, research and writing class.

In other news, the thing which I'm not discussing in detail yet should come to a final resolution sometime middle to late next week. I think. Gory details to follow when they become available.

Welcome New Follower

2011-12-01T19:35:00.000-06:00

Well, well. Three posts in one day. That hasn't happened in a while.

The reason for the trifecta post of the day is to announce and welcome a new follower to the congregation. PISSED of The Feral Irishman has kindly decided to reciprocate my early decision to follow his blog. Welcome. We have a cookie recipe posted around here somewhere.

He has the distinction of being the fortieth official follower. I'm not sure that means anything numerologically, but I thought I'd point it out anyway.

At any rate, his blog tickled my funny bone a bit today. Your mileage may vary. Be aware, somethings posted there are marginally safe for work and probably very educational to small children and adolescent males. So, you have been warned.

Grumble, Grumble...

2011-12-01T17:13:00.000-06:00

The Queen: Honey, I'm sorry to bother you, but I have a flat tire.

Me: Where are you? [location received...close by fortunately] Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes.

...frickin'...grumble, grumble...tire sized chunk of asphalt...$$*I&%$#$@!!...missing from the side of the road....grumble, grumble...and The Queen manages to hit it...[snort, spit]...at 50 miles per hour...D'oh....

Great. Just what we needed. I would have felt better about a nail or something like that because I keep a plug kit in the car.

Fortunately, The Queen was safe and close to home so that I could assist quickly. The bonus, see there is a silver lining, is that she was able to pull over in a very wide median cross over which gave me a safe place to work.

Sanity...Oh Sweet Fleeting Sanity

2011-12-01T11:59:00.000-06:00

It might amuse you, my dear readers, to know that I had to take a full blown psychological assessment for reasons that will hopefully become more apparent in the near future when I am a little freer to discuss the reasons for same. In the meantime, I thought you might find parts of one of the assessment exercises interesting. I was asked to do a sentence completion exercise. I have no idea what insight this exercise gave them into my psyche, but apparently it didn't trip any major alarms.

Following are some of the more interesting questions/responses (set up in bold, completion responses normal):

If I were given complete and absolute freedom and the means to do it, I would restore a vintage DC-3 or PBY Catalina and fly it all over the world to visit places I’ve never been, learn about other cultures, do things I’ve never done and help as many people as I could along the way."
The 4 traits in people I dislike most are a) dishonesty, b) bad table manners, c) stubborness, and d) abusiveness to other people or animals.
Most people don't know that they are blind to their own ignorance.
People in business generally want to stay in business.
Power is dangerous.

There was three pages of that kind of stuff not including the four or five other online assessments including advanced numerical reasoning (math geekery - which is greater? 1/59-1/95 or 1/37-1/73), pattern analysis (think Rohrshach ink blots meets Sesame Street "which one of these is most like the other"), personality inventories, etc. It was an evening of fun and self discovery for the whole family. Not really...it did take the whole evening...by myself...in the office. It was like taking the GRE and LSAT all over again...with the full knowledge that someone was going to use the information to make a recommendation about my "suitability".

Missed dinner too.That made me a little grumpy the next morning (woke up with a headache) when I was supposed to meet with the head shrinker in person.

More to come hopefully in the next week or so.

Quick Update

2011-11-27T19:41:00.000-06:00

I apologize for being a delinquent blogger here of late. It's been a busy several weeks here at Castle Erickson with work, school, studying and the false alarm foster child situation. Unfortunately, I think it's only going to get busier for the next couple of weeks. There is something afoot that I cannot discuss in detail yet; however, it involves a a pretty major potentially life changing decision. Discussions within the family about this issue have pretty much consumed the Thanksgiving holiday weekend.

While I've been away, I seem to have attracted a few new followers. Several bloggers have a tradition of welcoming new followers to the fold so to speak which I think is admirable. I've tried to do that from time to time, but it has been a real long time and many followers ago since I did so. My intent has been to do another massive follower intro, and I even started working on it before law school started to get in the way. I'll try to get that finished here before the end of the year after finals are done and things stop being so crazy.

In the mean time, I offer a heartfelt welcome to Warlock Sundance, Stephen, Duke, Modern Day Redneck, Hoss Boss and justcook. I appreciate you taking the time to follow me increasingly irregular postings. Hopefully, regular programming involving guns, law school, foster parenting and associated craziness will resume sometime in the near future. No promises.

One last thing before I get back to studying for my "all or nothing" Torts final scheduled for tomorrow evening. I've been meaning to mention this for a while, but it keeps eluding my limited attention span. I had to spend the better part of a week working from the law library at school because AT&T managed to kill my DSL connection for an entire week. I noticed something during that time which had been poking around the edges of my consciousness. Despite the reputation attorneys have for being ruthless, unethical scavengers, law students are, at the same time, generous, helpful and entirely too trusting. The heartless and unethical part must come later. The scavenger part, however, is purely instinctual.

Allow me to explain. I sat in the law library for over eight hours on at least two different days watching students leave laptops and books worth well over $1000 unattended (and the laptops unlocked) while they left to go get coffee, go to the bathroom or others for fifteen or even thirty minutes at a time. A dishonest person could have walked away with not only valuable stuff but a semester's worth of work had they been so inclined; however, I never once saw anyone so much as blink in the direction of someone else's stuff. Balance this with what appears to be the near universal and ravenous appetite of law students. Every group event or meeting at school involves free food. Not that I'm complaining. Usually it's pizza, but we've also had Chick-fil-a, In-And-Out Burgers, Pot Belly Sandwiches and others catered in. Any leftovers from these events are shamelessly scavenged by other students. If a student walks in and smells food, it's on like Donkey Kong. It's like chumming the waters for sharks.

Anyway, must go now. Back to studying.

Pitter Patter

2011-11-12T11:38:00.000-06:00

To The Child who God has selected for us:

I wanted to take a few minutes to write you a little letter telling you that The Queen and I are very anxious to meet you. We have been waiting a long time for you to come into our lives, and we so desperately want to get to know you and see you grow up with all the love and joy we can shower upon you. Don’t worry. We won’t smother you.

We thought last Thursday was going to be the day we would get to meet you when The Queen received a call from the nice lady at the agency about a little girl (not even three weeks old yet) who needed a home right away. It turned out to be a false alarm though. That little girl did not turn out to be you. She had three other siblings, and she was placed in a home that would take all four of them together. We were disappointed for moment because we were so very excited that we might be getting to meet you that day, but we quickly realized that we needed to continue patiently awaiting your arrival.

Mimi was disappointed she didn’t get to meet you too. I think she can’t wait to have another grandchild to spoil. We hadn’t told Oma or Opa yet. The Queen wants to surprise them with your arrival. Grandpa B. says he’s looking forward to meeting you. I’m sure he is, but I hope he’s a little more diligent about visiting you than he has been about visiting your cousins.

You may wonder why I am writing this letter to you and posting it here for the whole world to see even before you’ve set foot in our home. It’s entirely possible that you might not even have set foot in the world yet. I decided to write to you now so that you would know that you were loved and wanted even before we knew who you were.

We’ve spent a lot of time getting ready for your arrival. We had to take classes so that the State of Texas would license us as foster parents. The Queen spent a lot of time getting the house ready for your arrival. She’s cleaned and organized, removed a lot of clutter, shopped for clothes and sheets and stuff. I’ve helped some too, but I have to work and go to school which takes up a lot of time. Boooo!

Don’t worry though, I will find a way to make plenty of time for you. We have so many things to do together. There’s a whole world out there for us to experience together. The Queen and I can’t wait to share it with you.

Sasha, Boo, Numbnutt, J.G., Spanky and Filbert also can’t wait to give you warm, furry (or scaly as the case may be) and wet hugs and kisses. They will love to have someone small and energetic to play with. Especially Spanky. We think the little guy gets a little bored around here with all the older animals.

We hope you will arrive soon. We are patient, but we are also greedy. We want to spend as much time with you as possible.

With Love,

The Shepherd and The Queen

Faith Renewed

2011-11-01T19:14:00.000-05:00

Here lately, in between classes and homework and work work and sleep, I've been spending a fair amount of time fantasizing about my next firearm purchase as I have The Queen convinced that my reword for successful completion of my first semester of law school is a new shooting iron for the stated purpose of becoming involved in some friendly shooting sports activities. Which, by way of brief update, I made a B+ on my second Legal Analysis, Research & Writing (LARW) class memo (good enough to be above the class average thank you very much). So, with great anticipation, I've been trying to narrow down the wish list to one (or two...maybe...no, really, three at the very most...I promise) selection to add to the armory for fun and games.

My goal is to get involved in one (or all) of the pistol action shooting sports. There is a local club that puts on IDPA and USPSA matches at least once a month. Now, I am a total noob when it comes to shooting sports. Historically, I go to the range and shoot stuff. Going to the range to shoot stuff against the clock and possible actually have to move and think at the same time...should be interesting.

Anywho, a quick skim of links related to the aforementioned sports suggests there are varying schools of thought about the best choice of weapons for a beginner getting into the sports. Basically, pick any weapon you want and there's probably a cubbyhole to fit it. The polymers are the cheapest entry price point in the games with revolvers coming a close second. Cheap 1911s can be had for about the price of a good polymer gun, but who wants a cheap 1911 for competition?

So, there I am, perusing the gun manufacturer websites looking for the next Pistole de Shepherd and debating whether it should be a double action revolver (Ruger or Smith are the only contenders in either .357 or .45), polymer plastic fantastic (Smith M&P .45 is really the only contender here unless Ruger gets off their butt and puts out an SR45) or the venerable 1911. I had almost talked myself into getting a Ruger Redhawk in .45 Colt (with the intent to get it customized for both .45 Colt and .45 ACP) because I really do like revolvers and shoot them fairly well. Then, I started second guessing that. The Ruger only has a 4" barrel or a 7+" barrel. My preference would be for a 5" barrel. Smith made the M325PD with a 5" barrel, but it was Scandium framed for light weight which equals abusive recoil in a .45 revolver. So, I just about gave up on the revolver idea for now and went back to cogitating the polymer pistols. I just can't bring myself to like Glocks. They are dead simple, reliable, rugged, etc., etc., and they are butt ugly. The Ruger SR pistols are down right sexy, but they don't make a .45 yet. That leaves the Smith M&P. Why Smith feels the need to limit them to 10 round mags I will never know, but they are a good looking pistol that feels right and even has a variety of options to choose from with respect to safety mechanisms. Not a bad choice for the price.

Then I see what North posted today.

I have to say, that one photo and especially the caption instantly renewed my faith in 1911s.

I must go to school now, but rest assured that I will now be noodling the nominations for best leading 1911 in an Erickson holster.

Random Photos and Other Things

2011-10-23T22:03:00.001-05:00

I've been away for a little while, but I'm back now. The Queen and I were away from the world for a while keeping the Feast of Tabernacles with our church. We really didn't want to come back. So, I thought I'd ease back into blogging with some randomness.

The end result of a game of "telephone" with several young children: "Pickles have farts."

Filbert the Fish keeps a close eye on Spanky McCloud.

Warm feet...cold floor.

Five year old on a zip line. Fearless little girl.

The Queen holding a contented passenger.

Word of warning...41 year old knees and ultimate frisbee in an unlit field marred by water runoff ruts at 10:30 at night are not a kosher combination.

The chili recipe I posted here is now an award winning chili recipe. It won first place out of eight entrants. Seven if you don't count the Indian stew entry. Six if you don't count the Yankee White Chicken Chili entry. Not bad considering I had to use a crock pot and a hotel kitchenette to make it.

Half Way To The End of The Beginning

2011-10-06T21:20:00.001-05:00

As of tonight, I am half way through my first semester of law school. Here are some thoughts and observations so far.

I came across a news article posted on the wall in a hallway on campus discussing last year’s graduating class. According to the article, Texas Wesleyan graduated 68 law students last year. I don’t know how many people started with that class of graduates, but I do know my class started out with 225. If the enrollment rates have been consistent for the last several years which is likely, that translates to approximately a 70% attrition rate over the life of the program which is somewhat sobering to put it mildly. That figure doesn’t take into account how many either fail the bar exam or don’t even bother to take it. Why you would go all the way through law school and not take the bar exam is a mystery to me, but I know it happens.
There are two students with the first name “Babak”. For all I know that may be their ethnic version of “Bob” or “Jim”. Still, in Texas, that strikes me as an interesting coincidence.
I made a “B” on my first Legal Analysis, Research & Writing class memo. Considering the fact that I rushed it after having a major brain failure by erroneously thinking that I had an extra day to complete it leaving no time for proof reading or revision, I consider that a win.
The final memo is due Tuesday. I will be sweating bullets this weekend while chained to my laptop cranking out what I hope will be “A+” material.
If my vision survives all the reading, I will be surprised.
Practice exams are at the end of October in the Torts and Criminal law classes which will give us about a month before the real thing to have a pant wetting, hysterical, nervous breakdown. One test = 100% of your grade plus or minus 15% at the professor’s discretion based on class participation. No pressure.
I’ve been assured by several of my attorney business associates that it gets easier after this semester.
I really think they are just saying that to make me feel better.
I feel pretty confident that I have a reasonably good grasp on the concepts I need to know for my classes so far. At least, I haven’t had a “what the hell are you talking about” moment yet.
I could be completely delusional on that last point.
I had forgotten how much I hate commuting after working from home for several years now. I’ve been getting unpleasant reminders of why I hate commuting like freeways being shut down for construction at 10:00 at night which prevents me from getting home when I am already deliriously tired, hungry and need to study. Then there are the rush hour accidents that slow traffic to a crawl and make me late for class to the displeasure of my professor. Stupid gawkers.
You know you are wore out when sitting in a bell tower with high powered rifle starts to make perfect sense AND other students agree with you.
Then you realize that you don't have time to consider acting on number 12. because your memo is due next Tuesday.
The Queen remains very supportive and loving. She is a saint.

More updates as events warrant.

We're Not From The Government, But We Are Here To Help

2011-10-06T16:35:00.000-05:00

This is one of my rare link back posts of something I think everyone needs to read. There's nothing I can add other than Reagan would be proud. This is the way it ought to be handled everywhere. Go. Read. Now.

Fun with Math and Guns…Part Whatever

2011-10-05T22:45:00.001-05:00

In between paying attention in class, working to earn a living in this wonderful economy brought to us by a constitutional law professor’s flawed understanding of Keynesian economics and trying to get a few hours of sleep in, I’ve been spending a little time thinking about my firearms wish list. As most things based on desire as opposed to need, items on the list ebb and flow with the regularity of the tides.

Currently, there are 24 guns on the list from .22s all the way up to .45-70s. Only five of those are really, really must haves. I’d put a .50 BMG rifle on the list, but there is no way (even in fantasy land) for me to ever justify the price of poker for one of those beasts. Ditto for full auto playthings that cost more in ammo for one day at the range than most of the other guns on the list. If I ever do become even modestly wealthy, an MG42 would be lots of fun. Until then, I’ll stick to guns that don’t need a controlling interest in an ammo manufacturing company to shoot regularly.

Anyweapon, as part of this exercise in self delusion, I’ve been trying to really examine the relative benefits of each addition to the list including caliber, capacity, purpose, etc. You know…so that I can explain to The Queen why I really NEED to spend $1800 on a Sharp’s .45-70 because you never know when you need to hit a bucket (or a mounted Indian) from 1500 yards away.

Incidentally, I recently read an article written by someone who was asked to go out with a bunch of scientists to recreate Billy Dixon’s amazing shot (http://powderburns.tripod.com/sharps.hmtl). Apparently, one foolish egg head bet that the Sharp’s .50-90 was incapable of making the shot. He lost the bet soundly. Based on the numbers reported, the Sharp’s was/is capable of making shots out past 3500 yards. I’d really like to see a U.S. Marine sniper lug one of those to the sandbox and take the sniper kill distance record back from the Canadians. That would be epic to see modern Barrett and MacMillan rifles bested by 140 year old technology. It would be even better to set up the shot Road Runner style. Paint a huge “X” on the ground with a hookah next to it and a little note written in Pashtu pasted to the hookah that says “smoke me”. The bullet would arrive while our intrepid terrorist tokes away on the hookah and you would hear the cartoon “hammer/anvil” sound when he drops.

So, anyway, I don’t know how many digressions that is, but we have strayed just a bit from my intended point. Bad writer. No donut. Emmmm….donut. [slobber, drool] Sorry. This is supposed to be about fun with numbers and guns. What I’m trying to talk about here is kinetic energy.

A bullet sitting in the chamber has a finite amount of potential energy stored in the mass of the bullet and the measure of gunpowder behind it. Once the primer is struck by the firing pin, that potential energy is converted into kinetic energy. Most people tend to focus on the amount of kinetic energy at the muzzle end of the barrel (creatively enough called muzzle energy) since kinetic energy begins to decrease the moment the projectile leaves the barrel due to a variety of factors including drag; however, the calculation is the same whether you are figuring muzzle energy, terminal energy or energy anywhere in between.

The calculation for energy is one half the mass of the bullet times its velocity squared. Since this is America, we still calculate the mass of the bullet in pounds which necessitates a little more mathemagical juggling since bullet weights are normally advertised in grains. There are 7000 grains in a pound. Since mass is the weight of the bullet divided by the force of gravity (which is about 32 feet per second more or less). The final energy calculation looks something like this:

Energy = (bullet weight in grains) x (velocity) x (velocity)

2 x 7000 x 32 ft./sec./sec.

So, for example, a 230 grain bullet (a typical .45 ACP bullet weight) travelling at 1000 feet per second has an energy of 513.13 ft. lbs. 513 ft. lbs. of energy is a respectable number for a pistol round. I don’t know about you, but I certainly wouldn’t want to get shot by one.

Most fanboys and haters deeply invested in the caliber wars want to focus on magazine capacity (how many rounds of 9mm can you hold steady at arms length?), muzzle velocity (that .44 is awesome cooking along at warp 5) or bullet diameter (a .45 will never shrink to 9mm!). Others chant the mantra of bullet placement, bullet placement…. Well, duh. If you don’t hit something vital, you’re not going to do much more than poke a hole in your target.

Let’s throw the Holy Hand Grenade into the caliber wars here for a second and look at some muzzle energy figures for comparison. I must confess that the following figures come from elsewhere, but I cannot for the life of me remember where I found them as I would like to give them credit where credit is due. The information comes from what can only be described as a backyard experiment, albeit a thorough one, done with some folks with time, money, ammo and a Thompson Center Contender on their hands. The bought a bunch of barrels for the TC in common handgun calibers. Each barrel started out at 18 inches in length. They would shoot a string of 6 shots for each type of ammo and barrel length combination through a chronograph and record the results. They would then cut off an inch of length from the barrel, lather, rinse, repeat. The muzzle velocity figures would then be averaged and used to calculate an average muzzle energy for a given load and barrel combination. The test was by no means exhaustive of every single load offered for a given caliber as that would have involved even more expense that the considerable amount these people already expended in their efforts, but it was fairly representative nonetheless.

*****11/13/11 Update - I finally tracked down the link and bookmarked it. It's from Bullets By The Inch.*********

Without further adieu, here is a quick and dirty comparison of some common pistol calibers from the study’s results:

Low High

9mm 295 ft.lbs. (147 gr./951 ft./sec.) 442 ft.lbs. (115 gr./ 1316 ft./sec.)

.38 Special 250 (110/1013) 315 (135/1027)

.357 Magnum 403 (110/1286) 633 (125/1511)

.40 S&W 355 (165/985) 545 (135/1350)

.45 ACP 338 (230/814) 504 (185/1109)

For apples to apples comparison, all the above velocity figures come from the 4 inch barrel. The low is the “worst” performing round for that category in terms of muzzle energy. The high represents the “best” muzzle energy figure. The bullet weight and muzzle velocity are the figures in parentheses above.

I can hear you already. “Yes, Shepherd. But what does it all mean?” Well, let’s start with the obvious. In a self defense context, you’re not going to stop a threat unless you can get a bullet to penetrate a vital area. Setting aside certain variables like bullet design that can affect penetration, the bottom line is that more energy means more penetration. The ideal configuration to maximize kinetic energy would be a fast, heavy bullet (can anyone say .50BMG? I thought you could). However, speed can make up for a lighter bullet. If you need proof of that, do the math on a 72 grain 5.56mm round moving along at 2850 feet per second (1305 ft.lbs.). I wouldn’t want to get shot by one of those either.

What’s the best round? It depends. Mainly on you and your preferences. A .38 will get the job done within certain limitations. So will a 9mm, so will a .40 and a .45. The fact is that a pistol round will be outperformed by a rifle round every time.

Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut...

2011-10-01T20:01:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you don't.
Almond Joy's got nuts.
Spanky McCloud don't.

Poor baby done been fixed.

Look What The Humans Dragged In

2011-09-25T22:27:00.001-05:00

When The Queen and I married almost 8 years ago, we merged households and blended menageries into one herd of two dogs and four cats. Over the years, we lost a few of cats and gained a dog. When The Queen's beloved Yakmaster was put to sleep earlier this year, we agreed that we would not "replace" him and would allow the current pack to dwindle to zero through attrition. The theory is that we would enjoy some time free from the responsibility of animals before, if ever, committing to the joy and pain of animal companionship.

We were doing very well resisting temptation until this happened:

How did this happen to become sprawled on my kitchen floor you ask? I shall endeavor to tell you. I came home from school a couple of weeks ago, and The Queen said: "Would you like to go for a walk?" I debated the question for a few moments as: 1) I was tired, 2) I had a lot of studying to do, 3) I wanted to spend some quality time with The Queen, and 4) I really needed to get some exercise. Ultimately, the desire to go for a walk with The Queen won out, and off we strolled for a late evening wander around the neighborhood.

I should, perhaps, mention here The Queen's uncanny knack for spotting furry animals. It's like Doug from the movie "Up": "Hi! My name is Queen Ginger. I love you. Will you be my...KITTY! Will you be my...RABBIT!"

Anymongrel, as we walked along one of the main roads through the neighborhood at the edge of a small park area, The Queen looks into the shadows and says "Kitty". Of course, we have to stop for a moment to say hello to the kitty. He looks young, about 4 to 5 months old, and thin. He was wearing no collar and seemed to be in overall good health. The Queen knocked on some of the doors nearby to see if anyone was missing a kitten, but no one claimed him.

Well, neither of us was going to leave a cute and fluffy in the middle of a field with no visible food or water in the middle of the night next to a busy road. I walked back to the house, got a bag of cat food and returned with the car. The Queen got in with the kitten who promptly devoured the food I brought.

We started debating about what to do with said kitten mindful of our promise not to add to the menagerie at this point. We posted our find on Facebook to see if anyone had an interest in a sweet, adorable, little guy. No takers. To make matters worse, he looks very close to a Russian Blue which is one of my all time favorite cat breeds. We think he might be a Nebelung which is a breed derived from the Russian Blue.

Of course, he had to have a sweet, gentle personality with a strong purr and a willingness to cuddle.

And then there's the soft, silky fur.

Oh, and the face...

How can you resist a face like that?

So, it looks like we've been chosen to be the companion to this ball of cuteness and fluff. We have decided to name him Spanky McCloud.

Welcome to the family you little rascal.

Old Wisdom

2011-09-19T01:12:00.000-05:00

"State interference is an evil, where it cannot be shown to be a good. Universal insurance, if desired, can be better and more cheaply accomplished by private enterprise. " Oliver Wendel Holmes, The Common Law.

Firearms Handling and Shooting 101 – Lesson 1

2011-09-15T19:11:00.000-05:00

I am feeling the need to shore up my gun blogger cred today. So, I thought I'd take a moment to share a little something I prepared for a friend who is interested in learning to shoot. Enjoy.

The Four Rules

1. All guns are loaded.

2. Never point the muzzle of a firearm at anything you are not willing to destroy.

3. Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on the target and you are ready to shoot.

4. Know your target and what’s beyond it.

Memorize these four rules. They are the basis of all firearms safety. It is highly unlikely to the point of being statistically impossible to be hurt by or hurt someone else with a firearm when obeying the four rules. Further, there is no such thing as an “accidental discharge” when properly handling a modern firearm in accordance with the rules. More importantly, no matter how many safety features that are designed into a firearm, the most important safety feature a firearm can have is the trained mind of the person holding it.

Further explanation of the Rules:

The longer version of Rule 1 is “Treat All Guns AS IF They Are Loaded.” Every time you pick up or are handed a firearm, you personally should check its chamber or cylinder to verify whether or not it is loaded before doing anything else with the firearm. If someone else is handing the firearm to you, it is not a matter of trust/distrust to verify that the firearm is unloaded. It is a signal to responsible shooters that you are not a fool who will waive a gun around indiscriminately, that you respect firearms as tools that must be handled mindfully in the same way that you would operate power tools and respect your life and the lives of others. Responsible gun owners/shooters EXPECT you to verify the condition (i.e. loaded versus unloaded) of the firearm.
Rule 2 is fairly straight forward. Bullets come out of the muzzle end of the barrel. They come out fast and have a lot of kinetic energy that they are just waiting to dump into something, anything in their way. So, don’t point the barrel at anything you don’t want a bullet to hit or go through. Such as your wife and child, your car’s engine, the neighbor’s house, etc. If you would like some examples of what bullets will do, go to: http://www.theboxotruth.com/index.htm for plenty of examples with photos.
Rule 3 is also pretty straightforward. If your finger is on the trigger, Mr. Firearm is no one’s friend whether it’s loaded or not. If your finger is not on the trigger, the chances of a loaded firearm discharging are significantly reduced. Most modern firearms have been designed and tested such that you can literally hammer nails or tent stakes or small children with them and still not discharge; however, smart people follow the rules religiously and don’t tempt Murphy’s Law.
Rule 4 typically gives people the most fits. Once a bullet is fired, it does not stop until its kinetic energy is completely dissipated. Where and how that energy gets dissipated depends on several variables including bullet design, muzzle velocity, trajectory, target density, gravity, etc. For instance, a 230 grain .45 caliber bullet fired at 1000 feet per second (which is a typical bullet weight and speed for a 1911 style handgun) parallel to the ground at a shoulder height of 5 feet will travel approximately 156 feet before impacting the ground due to gravity assuming it hits nothing else in its path. If the bullet hits a rock at impact, it could ricochet in unpredictable directions with unknown consequences. That same bullet fired straight up at 90 degrees to the ground will climb to over 15,000 feet before coming back down. Big difference. For this reason, most firearms ranges have some sort of ballistically proven back stop material to safely dissipate the energy of a bullet and secondary measures to prevent you from inadvertently shooting someone in the next town. A huge pile of dirt works very well which is why it’s used almost exclusively at outdoor ranges. Concrete and/or ½ inch to inch thick steel works well with some caveats. Sheet metal doesn’t work too well which is why cars do not provide very effective cover in shootouts despite what Hollywood has portrayed.

Last thoughts on safety:

Obey the rules and no one gets hurt.
Disobeying the rules might get you shot and not necessarily by someone else.
Do not fear the firearm. It is only a tool used to hit a target in the same way a saw is used to cut wood. They are neither good nor evil. They just are.
If you are not sure, ask questions. There are no stupid questions.

Thought For The Day

2011-09-14T18:49:00.000-05:00

To the sweet, young thing in my Torts class: I know you're young and you think you're sorta cute; but, please, for the love of all that is sacred: Don't wear hip huggers to class if you're going to forget to do a crack check after sitting down. Someone give me a penny or a spit wad or some plumbers putty...something...anything. I'd go wash my eyes out now, but I'm pretty sure this is going to be a recurring event.

9/11 Remembered

2011-09-11T07:46:00.001-05:00

Like a lot of folks around the country today, I’m taking this opportunity to commit to writing my thoughts and memories of THE defining, tragic event of my lifetime (so far). I wasn’t born when John F. Kennedy was shot. I was born during the Apollo program, but I have absolutely no memory of it. Perhaps my earliest newsworthy memory is watching the evacuation of the American embassy in Saigon in 1975 on a small black and white TV. I had no clue what it was all about though. I just remember thinking “Cool, there’s a helicopter on TV.” I have clear memories of both shuttle disasters.

None of those events even comes close in my mind to shock and utter disbelief that I felt after the falling of the Twin Towers. None of those events, in my opinion, had nearly the impact that 9/11 had on American society.

Tuesday, September 11, 2001, started out like any other work day for me with one exception. I rode my motorcycle to work. It’s a small detail, but it is important to some of my impressions of later in the day. I rode the bike because there were a few of us in the office that had bikes, and we all had lunch together on Tuesdays when we were in the office as Hooters offered half price wings to anyone who rode a motorcycle in for lunch.

The first plane hit early enough in the day (at least in the Central time zone where I am) that I had barely gotten to work and settled before it happened. I remember talking with one of my motorcycle friends when our director came around and gave us the news. He was on his way to set up a TV in the break room. Practically the entire office of 150 people crowded into the breakroom. We managed to get a clear picture just in time to watch the second tower get hit live.

At that moment, we all knew it was no accident. You’d have to have been a fool to think otherwise. After the initial gasps of amazement and shock, you could have heard a pin drop in that room. For a crowd of jaded insurance adjusters, that’s saying a lot. Needless to say, all work pretty much came to a screeching halt.

After spending a couple of hours watching the news coverage in the breakroom, the needs of the human body took over as groups of us took off to get food. Our motorcycle group headed for Hooters as scheduled. That may seem somewhat incongruous for the seriousness of the day, but there was a practical benefit to our choice of venue. Being a sports bar, Hooters had TVs all over the place. We chose a table right next to the main big screen which was, of course, tuned to a nes station. Whether it was CNN or Fox News, I don’t recall. We ate our wings in a slightly more subdued mood than normal and speculated about what would happen next.

During lunch, we got a call from the office that the company was shutting down for the day. It seems that the powers that be recognized that nobody anywhere was in the mood to conduct business, and they wisely turned everyone loose to do whatever they needed to do.

I made my way back to the house, turned on the TV and watched more news coverage. At some point, I don’t recall exactly what time but it was definitely in the afternoon, I heard on the news that the local blood banks were setting up at Dallas Market Hall and Will Rogers Center in Fort Worth to handle donations. No one had any idea at this point what was going to happen, how many casualties there would be, if there were going to be more attacks or what. Nevertheless, donating blood seemed like a good idea at the time.

To A LOT of people.

I made my way to Will Rogers in Fort Worth on the motorcycle, and I was absolutely floored by the number of people already there to donate blood. It was literally in the thousands. It was probably 3:00 or 4:00 by the time I got there. I know for a fact that it was after 9:00 PM before I got my turn to donate blood, and I was one of the last 50 or so people to be allowed to give blood that day at Will Rogers. I couldn’t tell you how many people were turned away from giving blood that day (since I was trudging my through the line slowly inside), but I wouldn’t be surprised if several hundred and maybe even a 1000 people were turned away in Fort Worth alone.

As I headed home on the motorcycle that night in the dark with light traffic and nothing but the sound of my motorcycle’s exhaust to keep my thoughts company, I was struck by the utter emptiness of the sky. I live in the Dallas/Fort Worth metroplex. On any given night, I can walk outside and see no less than a dozen aircraft in the sky at any one time. This is a byproduct of living near the second largest airport in the U.S. in addition to a smaller regional airport, at least three decent sized general aviation airports supporting business jet activity and a major military airbase. By 9:30/10:00 that night though, there was not a single plane in the sky thanks to the FAA grounding everything.

It was eerie.

When you become accustomed to something being there all the time and then it it’s just not there, it’s downright disconcerting. For whatever reason, it was that empty sky more than anything that drove home the seriousness of the day’s events. I don’t know if I’ll ever see something like that again in my life time.

I do know this though. Even though I was not a member of the police or fire, even though I was not a member of the military, even though I didn’t lose any family or friends that day, I will never forget that day as long as I live.

One Month Down

2011-09-08T22:00:00.002-05:00

By the time you read this (since I’m drafting it in the middle of my Wednesday night Torts class…I know…bad student, no bonus points – never fear, I’m keeping up with my class notes in another screen), I will have completed my first month (4 weeks actually) of law school. I have this to say about that….

My brain is full.

Not really, but it feels that way.

I’m still not getting much sleep. For instance, I had great intentions of getting to sleep before midnight last night after getting home from class at about 10:30 PM. No such luck. It was 1:30 before I finally put head to pillow; and, even then, I don’t think I actually snored until 2:00 AM. Caffeine is helping keep me awake, but it has a price. Friday night to Saturday afternoon, I slept for 13 hours and probably could have slept for another couple of hours if it weren’t for the fact that The Queen was cooking brunch and I was hungry.

Sleep isn't the only thing I'm losing. Since I started school, I've dropped between 15 and 20 pounds. Before school, I fluctuated between 245 to 250. After four weeks, I'm down to 230. If I could be in shape and 230, I wouldn't complain too much (even though 210 is a better weight for me). However, the likelihood of exercise leading to me being in shape happening before the end of my law school career is between slim and none.

My academic support class went through all the tasks an evening law student who works full time is supposed to accomplish in the number of hours available in any given week. For those who are interested, there are 168 hours available to us in any 7 day period. Try as we might to get a few more hours squeezed in here or there, that’s the ball game. Now, take away 40 hours for work, 49 hours for sleep (if you are generous and give yourself 7 hours a night), 12 hours actually at the school, and 33 hours for study (if you devote the recommended 3 hours of study per classroom hour). Just for these tasks alone you’re at 134 hours out of your week not including going to the bathroom, taking showers, eating, grocery shopping, commuting, etc. If you are really lucky, you are left with about 15 hours a week to spend relaxing, spending time with family, vegetating, etc.

I didn’t write about this last week because there was no time; however, I had an interesting discussion with my Torts professor after class last week. During her lecture, she made a brief comment that she was scared of guns (the case we were discussing had something to do with firearms). After class, I approached her to find out where she was coming from on the subject. She said that she was uncomfortable with the whole idea of an object that can kill you. Despite that, she does not take the position that all guns should be banned. She thinks the ownership of guns should be heavily regulated, but she is okay with the use of guns for self defense and hunting. Interestingly, she did not think target shooting was a valid use for firearms. I discussed firearm safety, crime rates, etc. She seemed to be open to the thought that a firearm in the hands of a properly trained owner is no danger to anyone when the Four Rules are followed. It was an interesting and cordial discussion.

In other news, one of my colleagues has decided to throw in the towel. It hit pretty close to home because it was one of the members of my Criminal Law class study group. I was expecting the herd to be thinned out a little as time moved on due to grades, life and other inconveniences. However, I was not expecting it to occur this soon. This particular student sent me and the other members of the group an email on Tuesday just before class. It came as a total surprise to all of us. He seemed to be getting the material and hadn’t voiced any reservations to us about his continuing with school. His email didn’t elaborate on his reasons other than to suggest that he had been doing some soul searching. I can respect that, and I wished him well. I do feel sorry for him on one thing. He missed the deadline to get a full refund on tuition. So, it’s an expensive decision if nothing else.

I also have my first major assignment due next week in my Legal Analysis, Research and Writing class. In a way, I feel like I am back in high school English class: write a memo not to exceed 5 pages, double spaced….yada, yada, blah, blah, blah. That will be my life this weekend (in addition to tiling the pantry and laundry room). Fortunately, the research part of the assignment has been provided to us so that we can spend our time on our analysis and writing. Adding the research into the equation comes later. Fun times in the library coming my way.

Speaking of the library, one of my early assignments involved searching through case law reporters in the library for specific information. Reporters are bound volumes of court rulings on individual cases. For instance, the reporter for the appellate courts in Texas is called the Southwestern Reporter. There are currently 3 series of volumes going back into the 1800s. Each series contains volumes numbered from 1 to 999 (except for the current 3RD series which is still developing). In the library, these volumes are all grouped together by series in numerical order. So, 2ND series volume 665 comes after volume 664 and before volume 666, etc. During this library assignment, I was amazed to discover that allegedly intelligent post graduate students in law CAN’T COUNT. Twice, I found volumes of a particular reporter shelved out of numerical order. It really annoyed me because the volume I needed for my assignment was one of the ones mis-shelved necessitating a search to hunt down where it WAS shelved. I can’t even give the errant shelver the benefit of a dyslexia exception because the volume placed where the one I needed had no numerical connection to the two it was between. I can’t remember exactly, but it was like having volume 285 between volumes 697 and 699.

Another little library incident was the part of the assignment which found the book I needed in a section of the library that was on the border of the area under remodeling. Plastic sheeting to protect the books from dust was taped to the floor and the bookshelf right where I needed to be to get the book I needed to answer a particular question. It’s a good thing I have long arms, but I hope they don’t notice the size 11 tear on the plastic.

Finally, I haven’t mentioned the adoption process in a while. The Queen and I have completed our required classes. The Queen has had her one on one in person interview. Mine is scheduled for this Friday. After that, we have the home inspection where they tell us what we need to do we get the house ready for kids. Then, if I understand this correctly, we will be licensed foster parents on the list to have kids placed with us. We are cautiously excited.

That’s all for now. If you need me, I’ll be the unconscious one under the pillows.

Fun with Calculators

2011-09-06T23:31:00.001-05:00

A while back, I posted about the weird, mathematical places my brain goes when I am alone in a car. It probably says something very Freudian about me that guns and math occur in the same train of thought. However, that post turned out to be very popular. So, whatever.

Since I am back to commuting again on a regular basis for the first time in about three years, I've gotten back into my solitary, reflective ways. As I was on my commute to law school this evening, I was reminded of a period in my life not too long ago when I was forced to commute from Dallas to Houston on a weekly basis for work...for a period of two years. I chose to make the four hour drive myself in my own car instead of trying to fly or take the bus.

There is a reason my 2000 Nissan Maxima has over 312,000 miles on it, but I digress.

It was during this time of massively insane commuting that I had another fit of mathematical mind wandering. Since gas was selling for $3.89 a gallon at the time, you can guess where this is going.

Yep, I just had to try and figure out how much money I was spending every time a cylinder in the engine fired.

And, being the sharing type, I now bequeath this knowledge to you.

My car has a 4 stroke, 6 cylinder engine with an 18.5 gallon gas tank. In a 4 stroke engine, a cylinder fires once for every two revolutions of the crankshaft. Let's start our gas mileage calculations assuming you maintain an average speed of 60 miles per hour and that the car gets 30 miles to the gallon at that speed. My Maxima's best observed MPG so far was 34. So, it's doable.

60 miles in 60 minutes (1 hour) = 1 mile per minute

30 MPG at 60 MPH = 2 gallons per hour

18.5 gallon tank divided by 2 gallons per hour = 9.25 hour range/tank

18.5 gallon tank times 30 MPG = 555 mile range/tank

2100 RPM at 60 MPH = 126,000 crankshaft revolutions per hour

2100 RPM = 1050 individual cylinder fires per minute

1050 times 6 = 6300 total engine fires per minute

6300 times 60 = 378,000 fires per hour

2 gallons per hour = .03333 gallons per minute

6300 times .033333 = 189,018.9 fires per gallon

128 ounces per gallon

2 gallons per hour times 128 ounces per gallon = 256 ounces per hour

1 ounce = 1.8046875 cubic inches

128 ounces divided by 189,018.9 fires = .00067725 ounces per fire (= 0.0012222246094 cubic inch/20.029 cubic millimeter)

$3.89 per gallon = $0.3039 per ounce

$0.3039 per ounce times .00067725 ounces per fire = $0.00002058 per fire

So, to recap, every time a cylinder in a 6 cylinder engine running at 60 miles per hour averaging 30 miles per gallon, you are spending a little over 2 one thousandths of a cent. They tend to add up pretty quickly though.

Imagine That

2011-08-24T08:30:00.000-05:00

I just realized that my two year blogiversary passed by on August 18; and, apparently, no one noticed. Including me.

Man, I really need to get some sleep.

Law School Wisdom

2011-08-24T01:20:00.000-05:00

I thought I'd take a moment at the end of a very long day to impart a little wisdom from class earlier this evening (actually yesterday at this point).

"You have two ears and one mouth: use them in that proportion." - Anonymous

Or, for those of us who are mathmagically challenged, talk half as much as you listen.

If you need it simpler than that, I can't help you. You were probably too busy talking to listen anyway.

This Week In Review

2011-08-19T00:19:00.002-05:00

Well, the first week of law school is in the books. In more ways than one. I apologize in advance for being generally brain dead, incoherent, and otherwise pre-occupied. It’s to be expected I suppose. I am keeping up with my blog reading. Writing and commenting are suffering for what I presume are obvious reasons. So, under the Spider Robison “Callahan’s” theory that shared pain is lessened and shared joy is increased, I thought I’d take this opportunity to share some observations and thoughts from the past week or so.

The total enrollment for my incoming class (we are informally referred to as “1L” meaning first year law students) including day and evening students is about 225 people. There are 70 of us in the part time evening program. As the dean pointed out in all seriousness during orientation, 90% of us won’t be in the top 10%. Really? I didn’t know that. Thank you, Mr. Obvious. All mocking aside, my goal actually is to make the top 10% which I think is a reasonable and attainable goal given my experience and background.

Another observation from the first day of class, was the responses from the “ice breaker intros” during my “lock step” Torts class (lock step just means that everyone does the same classes in their first year). We have a group of folks with a fairly diverse set of backgrounds including 4 or 5 claims adjusters, 4 or 5 police officers, some law firm employees, a couple of engineers, a genuine research scientist, a stay at home mom or two, some fresh out of undergrad folks with a mix of “other”. There was one snark meister who claimed to be a “stay at home son.”

What surprised me most from the icebreakers was not the diversity of the backgrounds, but the high number of folks who admitted to having no idea what they planned to do with their law degree. At least a dozen people in the class of 70 have gone through the hassle to apply for law school and committed themselves to a four year total cost in excess of $80,000 with no plan of what they want to do once they are turned loose on the world. I’m sure some of those people are still discovering what area of law will be a good fit for them, but it was painfully obvious that a couple of them chose law school as a means of continuing to avoid the “real world”. Then there was the one guy who said he wants to be a lawyer so he can fight his speeding tickets. I really can’t argue with that. At least he has a plan.

Hitting the books takes on a whole new meaning in law school. Hitting the wallet is more like it. The 7 or 8 books required for my three classes cost $620. None of these would be considered light reading.

Reading is a major component of my life for the next 3 months or so. Analyzing what we read and writing about it is the other component. It has been suggested that we will need to read everything at least twice to successfully “get it.” There is a strong hint that three times might be better.

I really enjoyed the first case we read for the Criminal Law class. It was an appellate decision of a British criminal case from the 1800s. Three British seamen found themselves in the unfortunate situation of having to abandon ship into a life boat 1000 miles from the nearest land with limited provisions. Many days transpired with no land or ship in site. Provisions were consumed, and starvation ensued. One of the poor, unfortunate souls happened to be a young lad of 17 or 18 who was in worse shape than the other two. The two older, stronger survivors suggested that the boy should sacrifice himself so that the others could live. The boy, as you might imagine, was not a fan of this plan. Eventually, the boy went to sleep at which time one of the older men made sure that he did not wake up. Finger sandwiches and Bloody Maries were on the menu for the next few days until the remaining two were picked up by a passing ship four days after the Jeffrey Dahmer Memorial Banquet began. They were, of course, arrested and tried for murder. The appeal was about whether or not their actions were in accordance with naval tradition which held that cannibalism was acceptable in extreme, dire circumstances if the process of selecting the meals on wheels was fair, impartial and consented to by all.

Remind me not to go sailing with any Brits.

Sleep is a thing of the past. I don’t think I’ve been to sleep before 1:00 AM since school started. Might not happen tonight. We shall see.

I would like to know which janitorial genius thought it’d be a great idea to close off the main restrooms on the second floor for cleaning at the exact time that a 1L lock step class of 70 people not including other upper level classes were letting out for the evening.

I’ve already had two assignments due…both of which I successfully turned in on time. I’ve completed two other assignments not due until next week early. So, hopefully I can keep up with that at least.

Two of my classes will have 100% of the grade based on a single, final exam at the end of the semester. No pressure.

It’s late. I’m way too tired, and the bags under my eyes are getting heavier. So, that’s all for now. Good night. I’ll try to write when I find work. Posting will be erratic at best until I find a rhythm that works.

Kitten Fight

2011-08-07T19:05:00.000-05:00

Kitten Fight is an exciting new game based on the perennially favorite game wildly popular with all ages, Snowball Fight. Kitten Fight was invited here in the Lonestar State by bored rednecks who were sadly unable to engage in the traditional pastime of Snowball Fighting due to the obvious lack of snow. Not ones to be thwarted by a lack of frozen precipitation, ingenious rednecks burdened with an over abundance of small, fluffy white kittens noted the striking similarity between the infantile felines and the traditional orb shaped, snowy projectiles and a fun filled afternoon in 100+ degree heat ensued.

It should be noted that proper precautions should be taken by those participating in Kitten Fights. Proper attire is essential as you do not want your Sunday best to be ruined by blood (yours...those little claws are sharp) or poo (theirs...a flying kitten can be stricken with fright induced diarrhea).

If you haven't guessed already, this is total satire. No kittens were harmed in the making of this post. In fact, the little fluff ball attached to my chest had just decided that the little pocket created by my 12 pack abs, sternum and moobs made for the perfect kitten recliner. He zonked out for a couple of minutes before deciding he was needed elsewhere.

A Quick Consumer Product and Service Review: HTC EVO and Sprint

2011-07-29T08:31:00.000-05:00

Recently, The Queen and I made the decision to switch from AT&T Wireless to Sprint. The decision was not without some mild trepidation as I had been with AT&T since 1996, and The Queen had had Sprint back in the dark ages before we were married. She had had more than one bad customer service experience with Sprint. I clearly remember her frustration which led to my frustration with simple things like paying a bill or correcting an error. Then there was the fact that Sprint's network was atrociously bad with dropping calls and such.

Fast forward to 2011. Our contract with AT&T had been expired for over a year, and our iPhones (second generation 3G) were becoming difficult to deal with (meaning they were slower than polar bear snot in a blizzard and updating the software was no help). Apparently, it is all part of Steve Jobs' evil plan to force you to buy the latest iPhone # whatever instead of continuing to service a perfectly useful product. I decided that it was time to check out what the other carriers had to offer and see if the Android phones were worth all the hype.

Enter Sprint. They offered the HTC EVO at a reasonable (at least reasonable to me) price as the HTC EVO 3D had just come out, and their shared minutes family plan with unlimited text and data included was a big selling point especially considering that AT&T recently went to tiered data plan where you have to pay extra for unlimited anything. The total bill for Sprint's service was going to work out to about $20 less per month for double the minutes and unlimited data and text versus limited data and text with AT&T.

What could go wrong? Right?

Where to start? Let's start with the phone. That's the simplest place to begin. With the exception of one big honking, glaring, roadside flare of a battery issue, I really like the phone much better than I did the iPhone. The Queen...not so much. She has been mourning the loss of her iPhone ever since we left the Sprint store even though complained loudly for months before we made the switch about how slow her phone was and how frustrated she was. I can't win for losing. The Queen hates the phone, I think, because it's not like her iPhone. At the core of that is the battery issue with which I agree with her wholeheartedly.

The battery on the HTC EVO flat out sucks. When we got our iPhones we were not used to how much smartphones went through battery life. We learned some relatively easy tricks to extend the battery charge, and we were happy. The iPhones wouldn't outlast a regular cell phone on battery life, but they'd make it through a full day of data usage and talking without needing a recharge every five minutes. The HTC EVO's battery makes the iPhone battery look like the Energizer bunny by comparison. It's phenomenally bad.

For instance, I plug it in to the charger at night and use the phone as my alarm clock. The alarm goes off, I sorta kinda wake up, take the phone off the charger and take it with me into the bathroom to check email and such while I get ready for my day. In the span of the 15 to 20 minutes that it takes me to go through my morning ritual, the battery has been drained by about 10%. Apparently, that big freaking display that I love so much about the EVO accounts for 88% of the power used by the phone since it came off the charger this morning.

To be completely fair, I really do like everything else about the phone. I like the display a lot better than I do the iPhone's display. The apps seem to work better although there are some slight differences between the Apple version and Android version of identical apps like Facebook which take a little getting used to. Once you spend a day tinkering with the phone, you've figured out most of the quirks. The only thing that I think the iPhone does a little better than the droid is the contacts list. This is balanced out by the droid's smart dialing system. Want to call Bob? Any Bob. Dial 262 on the phone, and the Bobs in your contact list are presented for your selection.

Anyway, I could have lived with the battery life issue by doing what a young friend of ours did...he bought a bigger frikkin' battery. If that were all it was, I think we could have been happy. But, nooOOOOoooo!. Sprint had to be difficult. For the past two weeks, I've heard nothing from The Queen but how bad the phone was, that it was dropping calls, etc. I was in the car with her during one of those times when a call was dropped, and it just happened to be in an area where I had consistently dropped calls with the iPhone. It told her so and suggested that that spot might just be a deadzone out of line of sight of any towers. She was skeptical but let it go for the time being; however, her complaints resumed the next day.

Things came to a head on Tuesday as The Queen and I were driving in separate cars to my mother's house. We were to be doing some house sitting this week while Mom was out of town. We took two cars as I would have to come back to our house to take care of work, our animals and other things. Whilst we were traveling from home and hearth at Castle Erickson to where Fortress Mimi is located in the hinterlands of the frontier, we were in the midst of a heated discussion about matters which do not concern my fair readers when the call was dropped. Right in the middle of a fair sized town on state highway. No signal. Zap. Discussion over. We were without cell signal for over 15 miles until we got to the interstate highway. Even then, our resumed call was dropped yet again in between small towns on the interstate. Oddly enough, we could send and receive texts while in radio silence mode.

Oh. HELL. No.

I drove back and forth between Dallas and Houston for two years with very rare dropped calls on AT&T's network due to loss of signal that lasted less than a mile. I called people from the top of a 10,000 plus foot tall mountain using my AT&T cell phone outside of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I've driven this exact same stretch of road between Castle Erickson and Fortress Mimi for as long as I've owned a cell phone without ever having had a dropped call with AT&T's network. Fifteen plus miles of no signal on a major state highway is UNACCEPTABLE. Period. End of story.

I will give Sprint kudos for one thing. The young lady who helped us when we signed up for service was super nice and helpful. I can only hope they are as helpful and nice when I go back in on Sunday to tell them we are taking advantage of their 30 day money back guarantee to go back to AT&T. If not, you'll be hearing about it.

Your mileage may vary.

We Live...

2011-07-26T00:03:00.001-05:00

Shocking, I know, but The Queen and I are still very much upright and able to take nourishment as my father is fond of saying. We've just been very busy. I guess I should be apologizing in advance as this state of affairs is very likely to continue for the foreseeable future seeing as how law school starts three weeks from today, and I still have a lifetime's worth of stuff to accomplish between now and then.

For instance, tonight was another in a series of the classes required by the state of Texas to be allowed to foster or adopt children. Tomorrow night we will be hosting the CPR and First Aid class required to be licensed as a foster parent here at Castle Erickson. Thursday night, is an optional class called "Parenting 101". The Queen doesn't need this class as she has a wealth of experience in handling kids from her days as a nanny. Me...not so much. In between, we (read The Queen) will be house sitting through the weekend. I still have to work and accomplish assorted other tasks.

I will say this though, I have never wanted to be a professional (or even amateur) hitman in all my life more than after having to sit through the class on sexual abuse. There are people in this world like The Queen and I who fervently desire and pray to have children of our own but cannot while perverted scumbags not only have kids of their own but abuse them in ways that would cause normal people to vomit. I know there is no easy way to prevent such abuse from happening, but it sickens me to know that it does happen.

On that happy thought, I have to go do the dishes and go to bed. Goodnight. Hug your kids and hold them close if you have them.

Anyone Still There?

2011-07-14T09:48:00.000-05:00

Greetings from the disaster area known as my life. In fact, life as I have come accustomed to knowing it ends exactly one month from tomorrow which is when my law school classes start. Which my lovely bride reminded me of at 1:30 AM this morning. Thanks sweetheart. That was a wonderful thought to go to bed to.

You would think someone embarking upon three and a half to four years of life altering education would take this opportunity to relax and enjoy the next 32 days. You would be thinking about normal people. I'm not normal. You see, in addition to my normal duties as sole breadwinner, head chef and bottle washer here at the castle, there are several other things that have been intentionally added to the schedule by us or serendipitously dumped on us by that evil genius Murphy (bucket list item: locate and pee on said personage's grave).

So, let's give the readership a rundown of the end of life as I know it.

1) The power steering in my 2000 Nissan Maxima finally chose last month to give up the ghost completely. Other than the inconvenience of this occurring in the midst of the hottest summer in recent memory (it's been a glorious 100+ degrees here since mid June), I really can't complain. That car has been chugging along for over 310,000 and shows no signs of throwing in the towel anytime soon. If you've never looked at Nissans, I highly recommend them. The down side is that I have to scrounge at least $45into the budget for a power steering pressure line (at best) up to $225 for a new power steering pump and pressure line (at worst) not to mention finding time in an already hectic schedule to change out said components while trying not to die of heat stroke.

2) Our oldest remaining animal, Sasha (the big lab/shepherd mix who will turn 12 or 13 this fall...I can never remember unless I go back and look at her vet records) has been in declining health of late. We took her to the vet last week. He diagnosed her as having had a mild stroke, arthritis in the hind quarters and some neuropathy. He candidly told us she doesn't have a lot of time left. The only question is whether she can make some improvement from her current state (very weak, wobbly, etc.) to make further treatment beneficial and not just delaying the inevitable. It's really depressing so close on the heels of the demise of the Yakmaster, but such are the trials of those who open their hearts to animals.

3) We've made it official pretty much everywhere else to more or less encouraging response: The Queen and I have decided to start the process to adopt. I haven't spent much time in these pages on the lack of children in the Castle mainly because that's pretty darn personal, and I really had no clue as to how best to handle it. Suffice it to say, The Queen and I have been unable to have children of our own. The Queen's health has recovered to the point that we can actually consider taking care of children and not lose our ever lovin' minds which is a tremendous blessing. Part of the adoption process is required attendance in classes about fostering/adopting/parenting. We've been told to expect the process to take anywhere from six to eighteen months. We've decided to go the foster to adopt route for a number of reasons not the least of which is cost. Further updates as events warrant.

4) I still have to finish the projects around the Castle so that we can, in theory, put the house on the market to sell.

5) The market sucks right now. I mean really bad. We had a realtor do a market evaluation for us a couple of years ago when we first started thinking about selling the house. It was not great then by any stretch of the imagination, but a sale was possible if you weren't greedy. From what I've been able to gather via internet research on houses for sale in my area, things have gone from bad to worse. Price per square foot has dropped by about $5 to $10 in two years. That sound you hear: it's the equity in our house going down the drain. We'll be lucky to sell the house at a breakeven if we can sell it ourselves without a realtor. Anyone want a good deal on a house in a Dallas suburb? Anyone? Bueller?

6) The castle's AC started out the summer heat wave at a disadvantage. The system is just a tad too small for the castle's square footage (it's a 4 ton system when it should be 4.5 at a minimum and 5 would probably be better). As you can imagine, Murphy struck when the temps hit "slow roast". The lines and compressor froze up. A visit from our AC guy later, we had our freon charged up and hoped that was the end of it. Not so much. Shutting off airflow to one bedroom/bathroom and fiddling with the thermostat setting for several days, we finally have an AC system that will shut off sometime after 11:00 PM. It runs non-stop when the sun is out. And it's forecast to be over a hundred....until who knows when. My luck it'll be the end of August before Satan drops the temps back to "simmer".

7) We are in the process of "decluttering" the house. Until recently, The Queen's parents were living with us. My inlaws are wonderful people; but, with two adult couples living under the same roof, there is just too much stuff. Since the inlaws have more or less relocated permanently to my brother in law's house while they work on refurbishing the house they will be moving into on his property, The Queen and I are taking the opportunity to reclaim our space. Easier said than done. It doesn't quite look like we need an intervention from the crew of "Hoarders" yet, but I'm not ruling the possibility out.

Enough for now. Duty and work calls.

My Pointy Head Gives Me a Sharp Wit

2011-07-05T09:08:00.000-05:00

As you all know, yesterday was Independence Day. The Queen and I spent the day with my mom, my sister...the devil, and her husband and kids. As with last year, we went to my sister...the devil's church which hosted a Patriotic Pops Concert. The concert was indoors which was especially nice in that it kept us out of the 102 degree heat while we waited for the sun to go down so the fireworks could start.

The program for the concert was much the same as it was last year with a couple of minor changes. There were two parts of the program which I thought were particularly nice. The first is when they played the songs for each of the five military services and had the people in the audience that had served in those services stand up for applause from the rest of us. Later in the program, they played a couple of John Phillip Sousa march's while flashing military photos of congregation members, past and present, on the big screens.

After the concert, we retreated to thee cars that were strategically positioned in the parking lot for a good view of the fireworks and an easy exit after the festivities. We set about unloading the copious amounts of barbecue we had procured for the event. During the setting up of the barbecue, there was a fun little exchange with me, mom, my sister...the devil and her oldest child (who shall be henceforth known as "Twig" as she is a skinny little, semi vegetarian whose only source of meat protein is chicken as she claims not to like the texture of beef...whatever).

Anywho, as we all stood out in the church parking lot, my sister...the devil mumbled something at Twig that involved a minor curse word. The exact wording of the comment escapes me at this early hour, and it is not really necessary to the rest of the story.

Mom scolded my sister...the devil by saying: "What your language. This is a church afterall."

I, in a fit of snark, said: "It's okay mom. It's a proven fact that God doesn't listen to her anyway."

Twig turned to me and said: "I love you Uncle K."

2011-07-04T14:29:00.001-05:00

At lunch today: "That which does not kill you only delays the process."

Random Photos

2011-06-29T09:24:00.000-05:00

In honor of new follower 45er's comment that Random = Funny, I offer the following with commentary as necessary:

Teh cootness...it buhns.

The Cheap-plastic-part-in-a-high-heat-application-ness, it melts.

Did you say treat?

The attack of the mutant, psychodelic, killer penguins appears to have begun.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

Never mind...you'll have plenty of company.

Too Funny Not To Share

2011-06-27T11:57:00.000-05:00

The Queen and I had a meeting to attend this morning at an office building near the castle. The elevator bank in this building is in a hallway oriented perpendicular to two parallel hallways where the offices are located. After our meeting, The Queen and I walked back to the elevators. I looked down at the floor in the hallway on the other side of the elevator bank and noted that a fire hose was stretched out. Not knowing that there was anyone else around, I turned to The Queen and said:

"Well, it looks like someone's getting hosed."

From around the corner I here:

"I heard that."

I poked my head around the corner to discovery a gentleman patiently reinstalling the fire hose into the "in case of emergency" box on the wall.

The Queen and I had a good laugh.

Miscellaneous Round Up

2011-06-26T11:13:00.001-05:00

Good morning all you happy people. I thought I’d take a few minutes to give you a random update since I don’t have time to delve deeply into the burning hot topics awaiting escape from my feeble brain.

First, I found out that the end of my life as I know it begins on Monday, August 15. That’s when classes for law school starts. The school automatically registers me for classes and puts me in a writing section, etc. since the first year law curriculum is the same for everyone. Now I just have to figure out how I’m going to pay for this. I owe, I owe…it’s off to work I go.

I went in for a second opinion on the amazing stink eye on Wednesday. This eye doc happened to be the one who performed cataract surgery on a family member and got the eyesight back to 20/20 from “Is that stoplight red or green?” He took one look and said I had a case of “severe” iritis. According to him, the iris is adhering to the lens in 5 places. At least it was. Thursday night I noticed that the pupil in the right eye now looks like a flat tire. At the follow up appointment with him on Friday, he said that’s a good sign as it means there’s only one adhesion left. Whatever. My vision is still blurry out of the right eye.

A week ago Thursday, The Queen and I made a road trip to Tulsa, Oklahoma for business. We drove up Wednesday night and spent the night. If anyone of you reading this actually lives in the state, would you please do me a favor and find the head of your fair state’s transportation department and whollop him upside the head with a 2 x 4?

Seriously. It seems like every freaking road between Dallas and Tulsa was under construction. The interchange from US 69 to Indian Nation Turnpike. Closed. After detouring through scenic, downtown McAlester to the other entrance to INT, it was shut down because an 18 wheeler overturned. Coming into Tulsa, ALL (and I do mean ALL) the highways in the area of downtown we needed to go to were closed effectively destroying the directions we had to get to our hotel.

The kicker was our return trip though. We stopped for dinner at Western Sizzlin in McAlester since our options were extremely limited. After dinner, I went to the rest room before we got back onto the road. I really should have gotten a picture of this restroom. It would have fit right in at a high end steakhouse. There were armchairs and a bench and everything. Anywizz, after finishing business and while washing my hands, two young female employees walked in without announcing themselves. I just stared at them, and one of them said “Oh, sorry.” while the other one continued to babble incessantly about whatever it was they were talking about when they came in. When I came out, The Queen and I exchanged WTH? looks and gestures while I walked back to the table. She told me once we got back in the car that she now knows how I feel when she’s around other me. She said she felt very possessive, jealous, and “just what are those girls doing going near my man”, etc. I’m so proud.

Last, but not least, is a little scene from Friday night. The Queen, Nephew Ginger Boy and I were walking in downtown Fort Worth. In Sundance Square across from 8.0, we saw a short, thin woman “pole dancing” with a parking meter. She apparently had not a care in the world. Made me wish we had the camera with us.

How I Became A Gunnie

2011-06-19T22:32:00.000-05:00

A little over 10 days ago, Jennifer wrote a post about how she became a gunnie and asked her readers to post their stories too. I’ve been meaning to respond to that question, but I’ve been a tad busy here lately. Which is par for the course around Castle Erickson. I’ve got some free time tonight though; and, if it’s going to get done, now’s the time. So, without further adieu, here’s the story of how I became a gunnie.

In one sense, guns were not a big part of my life growing up. My parents did not own guns, and my dad’s dad never owned a gun in his life to my knowledge. My mom’s mom had a couple of rifles (more on those later). Mom’s dad had, at various times, a dozen or so guns which were kept stashed under car seats, in window racks in pickups, in a cheap gun cabinet and in nightstands. I don’t recall exactly when I took my first shot with a firearm, but I do remember clearly what it was and where it was.

I know I was older than 4 but younger than 8 since this incident occurred before my parents’ separation and divorce. Back in the day, granddad drank Buckhorn beer. It was cheap, and he bought it by the case. The cardboard in which the case came was conveniently printed with a target on the backside with a picture of a buck in the center. I’m sure I brought what happened next on myself by pestering granddad to teach me to shoot after he was at least a 6 pack into a fresh case as the crazy coot thought it’d be a hoot to see if I could hit the broadside of a Buckhorn beer case target with a 12 gauge shotgun. He nailed one of those targets to a stump, had me lie down prone behind the shotgun and said something cheeky like “you may fire when ready.” I can’t say how far off the ground I came, but I’m pretty sure it was more than a couple of inches. The noise? What? I can’t hear you. Hearing protection? What’s that? Come to think of it, I don’t think granddad owned ear plugs or muffs. Ever.

I did manage to clip the lower left corner of the target from 10 or 20 yards which I don’t consider to be all that bad for a scrawny, young kid with exactly zero formal firearms training using a gun he had no business shooting. Granddad, if memory serves me right, was a little annoyed that I didn’t get a better hit on the target.

As the years progressed, granddad’s interest in teaching me to shoot properly didn’t improve. There was the squirrel hunting incident in which he sent me into the field with a Mossberg 20 gauge bolt action shotgun. His advice: “Aim for the head.” There was the time he bet me that I couldn’t hit a big oak tree 50 yards away on the first shot with his Smith & Wesson Model 29 in .44 magnum. The penalty for failing to hit the tree was allegedly going to be “a whipping”. I hit the right side of the tree on the first shot. Years later, I found out that the sights on that gun were skewed way right. I’m not entirely sure he didn’t do that on purpose to “win” other similar bets.

It’s amazing to me that I had any interest in shooting at all after his “careful” tutelage. But, addicted to recoil was I even despite his best efforts to scare and bully me.

I did get some formal firearms training the Boy Scouts for the marksmanship merit badge. There is not much to report of those experiences other than the one attempt I made at skeet shooting. At camp, we had the opportunity to try it using an H&R single shot 12 gauge. It bucked like a mule, and I couldn’t hit anything with it. Until the last shot when I dusted the clay through blind luck. Literally…as I am fairly sure my eyes were closed.

Between Boy Scouts and trips to granddad’s, my exposure to firearms growing up was rare but enough to keep the spark alive.

By the time I was old enough to buy my own guns, I was a poor college student. I did manage to purchase a few for recreation and apartment defense. At various times, I had a Taurus .357 revolver with a 6 inch barrel. That got traded for a Taurus PT945. The PT945 got traded for a Glock 23. Somewhere in that time period, I got my concealed handgun license and acquired a Rossi .357 snubbie revolver. A Remington 870 12 gauge shotgun and a Marlin 60 .22 rifle came home during this time period as well. I eventually sold the Glock to a friend because I didn’t like it, and I wanted the cash. A change in my religious views led me to not renewing my CHL. That led to the Rossi getting traded for a Browning Buckmark .22. The Browning was eventually sold to meet a cash flow crisis. I was recently able to replace the Browning with a Ruger MkIII 22/45 which I really like. More importantly, The Queen likes it too. She likes it so much, I may just have to let her keep it “hers” and get a MkIII Hunter model to be “mine”.

As mentioned above, I’ve also come into possession of some of the family “heirloom” guns. The pride and joy of that part of the collection is the Winchester 1905 S.L. (self loading) rifle in .32 SLR (or .32 WSL depending on which cartridge box you happen to be looking at). This rifle was my grandmother’s (mom’s mom).

Story has it; she and granddad went to a turkey shoot back in the day when they were still married. Grandmother turned up in high heels and slacks, and granddad entered her in the shoot. She wound up shooting the pants off everyone else and taking home the prize (this rifle). She presented it to me around about my 21ST birthday with a box of shells she had for it that had to be at least 40 years old if they were a day. From what I’ve been able to find out, it was made in 1907 or 1908. The ammunition is hard to find as there are no manufacturers making it anymore. The cheapest I’ve ever seen a full box of ammo was $60 at a gun show probably 15 years ago. I haven’t seen a box anywhere in probably that long. You can find single cartridges on gunbroker.com sometimes. I did come across one website for a custom ammo maker claiming to make reloads for it, but I haven’t gotten around to trying them out.

I also have my granddad’s U.S. Springfield Model 1873 .45-70 Trapdoor Rifle complete with bayonet. This rifle has seen better days, but it still shoots which is amazing for a rifle made in 1882. The stock is experiencing dry rot and will eventually just disintegrate. I plan on waiting as long as possible, but it will eventually require a new stock.

Another oldie in the collection is great granddad’s (mom’s dad’s dad) Smith & Wesson Safety Hammerless 4TH Model .38 Short with a 5” barrel. This is a neat little top break, five shot revolver. They were also called “lemon squeezers” after the grip safety on the back strap of the handle. I’ve never shot this pistol as the timing is off by a lot. I just don’t want to take the risk of having a round split in half by the forcing cone and blowing the barrel off…and my hand.

The oldest gun in the collection is a Perkins double barrel muzzle loading percussion cap shotgun.

I don’t know the exact age of the gun, but it reportedly belonged to granddad’s great uncle or great great uncle and may possibly have been used in the Civil War. I would put the date of manufacture sometime in the 1850’s. It might be older than that by a little, but there are no markings that I can make out that would confirm it. This gun is in even sadder shape than the Safety Hammerless. According to granddad, his great uncle hand carved the stock using a piece of glass. I would venture a guess that the stock was carved ON using a piece of a glass during a more or less sober state. The action is horribly loose, and the rear of one of the barrels took damage to the cap nipple. Granddad, in his infinite mechanical genius (or more likely a drunken stupor) decided he would try to fix it using J.B. Weld.

So, now the gun sits awaiting the time when I can make a suitable shadow box for it to reside in permanently as it will never be fired again.

There are also the “guns that got away” from Granddad. The selfish old coot sold some of them rather than keep them for his one and only grandson who wanted them. He had others stolen from him (although I suspect that they were actually borrowed by his step kids and never returned). One of these was a Springfield .30-40 Krag which I know for a fact took a deer at 400 yards with iron sights. There was a Colt Border Patrol revolver in either .41 or .45. I only saw that one once, but I knew I wanted it. Oh well. Such is life.

Currently, I’m just a recreational shooter, and I’m perfectly happy with that. As mentioned above, I no longer carry concealed. The main reason for that is that I believe that God can protect me a whole lot better than I can. I still maintain a defensive awareness when out in public, and I think I do a fairly good job of threat assessment which helps keep me out of situations where I would need a firearm. I’m not a certified instructor or anything like that, but I have introduced several people to shooting. I’ve never been a big hunter although I do want to have someone who knows what they are doing teach me “the right way” to hunt instead of my granddad’s idea of hunting. I do love me some fresh Bambie, and it seems a tad hypocritical to not be willing to go shoot him myself. I’d love to get into some friendly competition one of these days, but I don’t have any plans to chase after IDPA Grand Master status.

Lastly, there are a lot of guns that are on the wish list waiting to be purchased and enjoyed. So many toys. So little time (and money).

Proud Moment in Professional Sports

2011-06-09T11:04:00.000-05:00

As many of you know, I am not a huge professional sports fan. I enjoy watching a game now and again as much as the next guy, but who is on which team and which team is doing well this year does not consume my life. I have been a "hometown fan" for as long as I can remember even when those teams were nothing to write home about.

Lord knows the Dallas area sports teams have had their share of moments where they would have preferred NOT to be in the spotlight on or off the field. It's nice to see a moment when the SHOULD be in the spotlight for something that has nothing to do with the latest box scores.

This may be nothing more than a symbolic gesture on the part of the Rangers, but I really don't care. It's much better news than which overpaid, barely educated, drug snorting, prostitute abusing, malcontent "athlete" is in trouble this week for drunk driving/drugs/dog fighting/drive by shootings/ETC. It would be nice to see more stories like this from professional sports and fewer stories about the latest tantrum by the team "star" about why he's not getting paid enough to play with someone else's balls (or pucks if your a hockey fan).

That Smarts

2011-06-05T23:49:00.001-05:00

Well, I had hoped that my 200TH post would be a little more profound than this is likely to be; but, I figure if I don't start cranking out the free ice cream again soon, y'all just might go get your fix elsewhere. So, where has Waldo been lately? When we last checked in on our hero, he was overcome by the emotion of having been accepted to law school. Much, as they say, has transpired since last we spoke.

I spent the remainder of the week following receipt of my acceptance to law school in a giddy daze. I did go see my youngest niece's orchestra concert that evening which was enjoyable even though it resulted in one of those "When I was your age"/"Your tax dollars at work" moments. The concert was held in the cafeteria/auditorium of my niece's middle school. As I perused my surroundings while waiting for my niece's orchestra to get to the stage (her's was the last of four different groups), I noticed that the cafeteria was not the style of school cafeteria to which I was accustomed when I was in school. In fact, it looked more like the food court at the mall. You had separate counters for burgers, pizza, fried chicken, and plate lunches in addition to the candy/snacks/bakery counter. When did this start happening??? When I was in middle school, what they were serving in the SINGLE lunch line was IT. If you didn't like it, you were out of luck. Kids have it so easy today. No adversity to face. They don't have to learn how to suck it up and take it...whatever it is.

Moving on, two days later, my great uncle (mom's dad's younger brother) passed away at the age of 82. His health had been in decline for the last 10 years or so following a motorcycle accident. His memorial service took place over Memorial Day weekend in the central Texas town where he had lived most of his life. I went with mom and my sister...the devil to go to the service which was held at the church where my great uncle had attended since he was a boy with my great grandparents. Funerals and memorial services are generally not fun events, and this was no exception. I do have to say this was probably the least coherent funeral service to which I've been. I'm not sure what a normal Church of Christ funeral service is supposed to be like, but I'm pretty sure this wasn't even close.

The memorial service also happened to coincide with my grandfather's (mom's dad) 90TH birthday which is somehow appropriate. According to mom, he's extremely proud of the fact that I've been accepted to law school even though he made no mention of such feelings to my face while we were there. I think he's just waiting until the ink is dry on my bar card so that he can ask me to sue someone for him. Personally, his pride and approval mean less to me than a warm bucket of spit; however, I can't completely turn my back on him. I have learned things from him, both good and bad, that make me who I am today, and I must grudgingly admit that he is a necessary component of my existence whether I like it or not. One of these days, I will have to explain my feelings about him in more detail to give you, my faithful readers, some idea of why I want to be standing behind him when he stands before God. If I could sell tickets to that event, I would.

That brings us to the next reason why I've been AWOL the last week or two. A week ago Friday, I was snuggling up next to The Queen in bed pulling the covers up when the covers stopped and my left hand didn't. My hand flew straight back into my face and impacted my left eyeball. I clearly remember my eyeball compressing, and I saw a ring of pretty blue and yellow stars in a pitch black room. I yelled but, in a shining moment in the ongoing development of my Christian character, didn't cuss. The Queen asked what happened; and, after being told, she started laughing at me. I eventually had to laugh to and said "It's all fun and games until someone punches their own eye out."

Now, a normal person would expect to wake up the next day to a black eye in the eye that was hit. Nope. Not me. I woke up the next day, and both eyes were perfectly normal. The day after that...not so much. That day, I woke up to discover that my RIGHT eye was completely red, painful to the touch, photo sensitive and would hurt when looking in certain directions. And, when I say hurt, I mean "feels like being stuck in the eye with an ice pick" hurt. Before you ask, yes, I am quite certain that it was my LEFT eye that was hit.

After things didn't get better after a couple of days, I made an appointment with the eye doctor. He pronounced the problem to be "iritis" which is inflammation of the iris. Basically, I sprained the muscles that control my iris. I was relieved that I had not detached the retina of something catastrophic. The doctor said that it's possible that the shock wave from the hit to the left eye went through the tissue and inflamed the right eye. Apparently, this is not unheard of in sports injuries.

The almost constant headache that went with this was the easiest part to deal with. Never knowing when the phantom ice pick would strike...that really kinda sucked. I did figure out that the change between near vision and far vision was especially painful and have worked to avoid that as much as possible. You really have no idea how much you move your eyes, how much focusing you do until you do something stupid like this. It completely wears you out mentally and physically. I've spent the last week or so being almost constantly exhausted because of my eye.

So, there you have it. More or less. Free ice cream to continue as my eye improves.

At Long Last...

2011-05-17T16:29:00.000-05:00

I present the following without further comment as I just don't have the words at the moment:

Status

Term: Fall Year: 2011
Program Time: P/T Evening Degree: JD

Current Status: Decision Rendered
Current Status Date: 5/17/2011
Decision Status: Admit
Decision Status Date: 5/17/2011

Pardon Me While I Hyperventilate

2011-05-16T18:04:00.000-05:00

I've been checking the Texas Wesleyan application status website every couple of hours...still nothing. I finally called just after five, and lo and behold I spoke to the person who is the hold up. At least, she claimed it was awaiting action on her part. I advised her that I'm not too proud to beg; and, when I found out she was the one who was the last person in line before getting the decision out, I asked her if she was susceptible to bribery. She stated that she is officially not open to bribery but did ask what I had to offer. She did promise to keep my file open on her desk and place her vote this evening so that the decision would go out this evening or first thing in the morning. We shall see.

And The Beating Continues...

2011-05-13T12:53:00.000-05:00

If it weren't for the fact that Blogger was completely toast until a few minutes ago, I would have posted this last night. I called Texas Wesleyan again yesterday since there is still no word on the whereabouts on their decision regarding my application. I was again told that the admissions cycle for new students does, in fact, end today. I was also informed that decisions were being pushed out last night. At least, the first batch of decisions. Apparently, they had so many applications that they had to split it up into more than one batch. I was advised that if I didn't receive a decision by today, that it would definitely be sometime next week. Where have we heard that before?

When I asked how many applications they had received, I was told that they had received about 2000. I have no idea if this is normal or not, but I do think it should have been possible to get a decision out on mine sooner than 7 weeks. It's not rocket science. It's simple really. 35 business days. You only have to look at 57 a day which is about 7 an hour. Some applications don't take that long to read because they are clearly not law school material. The crayon gives them away. Those with perfect LSAT scores are probably quick reads too.

I can see them spending a little more time on my application. My resume was a whopping two pages long. I had four, one page letters of recommendation, the explanation about my academic probation, my personal statement, school transcripts and the application itself: 20 pages of material total. If that much. Seriously, how long does it take to read 20 pages? Especially when you really only need to carefully read about 5 or 6 pages of that. You'd think it's Dostoyevsky the way they've been dragging things out.

Oh well. I'll continue to sit here patiently fuming in my own distracted misery. Don't mind me. It's good training for our upcoming Obamacare wait times.

Strange Day

2011-05-11T19:07:00.000-05:00

I've seen some pretty interesting stuff come across my desk over the last 15 years as a claims adjuster. I've seen the photos of the results of someone who had the misfortune to get caught under a massive steel bridge girder. There were the photos of the crispy remains of three unfortunate drunks who found out the hard way that pickup trucks moving at over 90 miles per hour stop VERY quickly after encountering a stack of solid concrete highway barricades...and then burst into flames. Then there were the photos of the guy who had an unfortunate encounter with one of those saws you see in road paving projects that cuts expansion joints into concrete. He got 20 inches of rapidly turning saw blade through the back and lived....for a little while.

In short, you could say that I've seen some stuff that would shock most normal people into a puking fit. I've seen so much of it, that I'm generally immune to human tragedy in whatever form it takes. However, having said that, I discovered today that it is still possible for me to be shocked by my work.

You see, in 15 years of handling all sorts of claims including my fair share of workplace gender based harassment matters (I'm intentionally avoiding a more appropriate term here in an effort to avoid getting unnecessary and unwanted Google search term traffic), I've never once had photos of a lascivious nature, alleged or otherwise, delivered directly to my office desktop. Ever. Until today.

I can't go into too many details for obvious reasons, but I can share a little about what makes this so shocking. At least to me. Aside from the fact that I consider myself a Christian.

Generally speaking, when a claim for gender based harassment is made, the allegations are typically coached in euphemism and/or "proper clinical" terminology. This is especially true here in Texas where we consider ourselves the buckle of the Bible Belt. Occasionally, to emphasis a particularly egregious point, an attorney will employ direct quotation of the alleged offender's harassing remarks. Providing evidence in the form of copies of explicit emails or photos is almost always left to the discovery process when information is exchanged in a more or less controlled fashion. It is unheard of for copies of explicit photos to be attached to a copy of a lawsuit.

Which is exactly what happened in the case that was assigned to me today.

What made it even more surprising, to me at least, was the number of levels this claim went through with no one thinking to put a warning on it. You know...like "WARNING - EXPLICIT MATERIAL ENCLOSED". The claimant's attorney's letter was addressed to three women who make up part of the board of our named insured. They forwarded the letter to their agent. Their contact at the agency is also a woman (who is someone I've dealt with for years). That agent forwarded the claim to my company where it wound up in our support unit to be assigned to the appropriate team by a clerical person...who is female. It then goes to my supervisor...who is female.

So, by my count, 6 women touched this correspondence and attendant explicit photos (which happen to be of a somewhat infamous female of negotiable virtue) WITHOUT thinking to put a warning on the file or the materials that there was explicit material enclosed.

Imagine my surprise when I encountered some rather graphic images of uninhibited and unclothed womanhood...at work. My mouth literally fell open when I scrolled through the materials and the attendant images. I was so stunned, I immediately went and told The Queen what had happened because I could not believe it myself.

I guess those company firewalls only keep you from going and looking for it yourself but don't keep others from sending it to you.

Good News and Bad News

2011-05-09T22:21:00.000-05:00

First, the good news. I still have NOT received a response from Texas Wesleyan regarding my law school application. Yes, you read that right. Things have to be bad when the GOOD news is that I've received no news about whether or not they think I'm fit to be trained as an attorney.

So, which do you want first? The bad news or the really bad news?

Since it's my blog and you all won't have an opportunity to express your preferences before I hit the "publish post" button, I think I will make you cry then laugh in the hopes of lessening the pain. Stop reading now, skip to the end and start reading from the bottom if you don't want to cry.

Seriously. You've been warned.

As you know from previous posts, The Queen's favorite subject, Kiki (aka The Yakmaster 5000 Projectile Vomit Cannon) has been ill of late. So ill that he has been steadily losing weight for several months. The first trip to the vet found nothing dreadfully out of the ordinary aside from slight anemia and slightly elevated white blood cell count, and it was suggested that he be put on probiotics and antibiotics. The probiotics seemed to be helping. He regained his appetite after we figured out his favorite foods were Fancy Feast and honey maple turkey deli meat. Until the last few days. He decided that now was the time to go on a starvation diet. Literally. By Saturday morning, he was wobbly, weak and generally looking pathetic.

The Queen insisted that I do something about this situation immediately. You see, as I may have mentioned, The Queen has been suffering through some pretty severe health issues for the last several years. When she came down with these problems, we were living in Houston as I had just gotten a really good job there. Without a family support network, it was not possible for me to work and take care of her by myself. She didn't qualify for home health care, etc. So, we made the hard decision to have her move back to our house in the Dallas area (her parents were care taking it for us until we figured out what to do with it). The plan was that I would find a way to get a job back in Dallas...a process that ultimately took two years. Kiki was one of The Queen's major sources of comfort and affection while I was away down in Houston earning a living and generally going insane.

By now, you can see where this is heading. Remember, I warned you.

Saturday, as you would expect, our regular vet was closed, and their answering service put me on terminal hold. After an unsuccessful attempt to get Kiki into another vet, I was left with the only option available: The 24 hour emergency vet in Arlington. This is not really a bad thing as I used to live right down the street from there, and they were our regular vet until we moved away. So, they had records on us even if none of the staff remembered us.

We got Kiki there Saturday evening, and the poking and prodding began. They reran some of the tests the regular vet had done and added a few more. The end result was not good. He had lost about 50% of his body weight in 5 months. He was septic, and the vet felt that was due to gastrointestinal cancer. That left us with two choices: 1) IV antibiotics and nutrition followed by more tests and probably chemo, or 2) put him to sleep.

The vet told us that he had seen a similar case a week or so ago, and the cat had died a day after going on the antibiotics and IV nutrition as the poor thing was just not strong enough to battle back. The vet told us that his recommendation based on the test results and the history we had reported was to put Kiki to sleep. The Queen was understandably heart broken, but she bravely made the decision to have Kiki put to sleep so that he wouldn't have to suffer. The Queen couldn't face holding him while it was done. The vet promised that it would be quick and painless; and, based on prior experience with this clinic, I had no doubt that would be the case. The Queen said her goodbye's to Kiki and he was taken away. They brought him back to us sealed in a box within minutes, and we left to go home. I can't say enough about the level of professionalism and courtesy the vet's office showed to us. If you are in the Dallas area, don't hesitate to use the I-20 Animal Medical Center. They are good people.

The Queen cried her heart out until late into the night when she passed out from shear exhaustion. The next day, of course, was Mother's Day. The Queen's uncle was in town from California, and a lunch was planned at her brother's place. I woke up as early as I could and attempted to bury Kiki in one of his favorite spots next to the driveway in the Monkey Grass.

Unfortunately, the bedrock at Castle Erickson varies in depth from about 1 foot to 18 inches. Great for your home's foundation. Horrible for when it becomes necessary to take care of some unpleasantness. Short of dynamite, which the neighbors would find objectionable, Kiki was just not going to be able to rest in his favorite spot. Since The Queen's brother has 16 acres of land, we decided to bury Kiki in a wooded area on his property. The Queen placed a cactus flower she had found over his grave.

We had Kiki for about 11 years. He was a rescue from the sister of a friend who was not able to give him and his litter mate the care they needed. His brother had disappeared years ago, and Kiki became The Queen's all time favorite by giving her comfort during some of her darkest days. I was forever frustrated by his finickyness, his fondness for hunting and killing everything within reach, and his penchant for vomiting on everything in sight, but I am grateful for all the love and affection he gave The Queen in exchange for nothing more than a warm bed and a full food bowl.

Then, to add insult to injury so to speak, I managed to create a minor plumbing disaster this afternoon that absolutely ruined my work day. Allow me to back up a few moments. Castle Erickson has been without a weedeater since the beginning of the lawn season. There are two weedeaters on the premises. Neither of which worked.

One was a Black & Decker Grass Hog electric which chewed up weeds and tall grass better than a lot of gas trimmers until it suddenly stopped working for no apparent reason. The reason, after disassembly, turned out to be the plastic drive cog had melted allowing the belt to come off making the powerful electric motor absolutely useless. Question for Black & Decker: Whose bright idea was it to use a plastic part in an application that would generate tons of heat from friction? Fire that dumbass. Please. Oh, and the person who decreed that you would not sell said plastic piece of garbage separate from the motor assembly which costs 3/4 of what a whole new unit would cost. Yeah, he needs to be fired too.

The other is a Ryobi SS26 gas trimmer. The Ryobi would start all day long, and it would even turn the trimmer head. Right up until you took it off choke. I suspect that it's my fault for not properly winterizing it. I gave it a complete tune up with a new spark plug, cleaning the muffler, cleaning the carb and replacing the fuel lines and filter. Still no go. The internet is overflowing with similar complaints for this model. To those of you who might have come here via a Google search: Yes, I know I should have bought a Stihl or an Echo. If I could afford a Stihl or an Echo, I would have bought one. No, I don't want to hear it. The problem seems to be localized in the carb as it will start with or without the muffler in place ruling out too much back pressure. The fact that it starts rules out spark leaving fuel as the only possible culprit. New fuel and fuel filter point squarely at the carb. I'm going to order a new carb, turn right around and sell it to someone else. Let them screw with it.

Anyway, The Queen decreed that a functioning weedeater must come home or else. So, we stopped at Wal Mart on our way home from taking mom out to dinner for mother's day yesterday and purchased a new Weedeater Featherlite. Again, all you brand fanboys: I DON"T CARE.

This afternoon, The Queen entered my office and suggested that she might have the energy to do a little weedeating to make the Castle a little more presentable. I put the new tool together and sent her off to get the required gas since, of course, the Weedeater uses a different fuel/oil mixture than the Ryobi does (fortunately, the chainsaw is a match for the Ryobi meaning my mix won't go to waste). She returned. I filled the little tank and promptly flooded the stupid thing. Once I figured out the procedure for starting it flooded, we were off and running....for all of two minutes. Max. The trimmer works fine, but imagine my surprise when a .095 inch trimmer line split open a 3/4 inch Schedule 40 PVC pipe on one of our outdoor faucets.

Water immediately started gushing a several gallons a minute, and I made a mad dash for the water shut off valves on the opposite corner of the house...which did exactly nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero. Apparently, they only take care of the water INSIDE the house. After a fruitless 15 minute search for another water shut off valve that, you know, WOULD affect the OUTSIDE water faucets, I threw in the towel and called the city to come out and shut off the water at the meter. They were there in about 15 minutes, and then it was off to Home Depot to get some Schedule 40 PVC, coupling and a new faucet (might as well make it look pretty while I was at it, and the old one leaked). The repair too less than 15 minutes. I waited a few before calling the city, and they were back out in about 20 minutes to get us back on. No major leaks detected although the new faucet has a very minute leak from the threads despite a generous amount of teflon tape.

So, if you don't mind, I'm going to go swill some wine and pretend the last three days never happened.

Wake Up Call

2011-05-06T11:25:00.000-05:00

You know...it's a really sad commentary on the state of the household when a cat becomes accustomed in true Pavlovian fashion to associate explosive flatulence with his morning feeding time. It works something like this:

Gas Bag Who Shall Remain Nameless: [FFFFAAARRRRRTTTTTT!!!!!!] (at a decibel level that can be heard across the house mind you)

Cat: Meow? [while getting up to go to his food dish and start gnoshing] Om, nom nom nom.

"Is it time to eat?"

The Ultra Special Hell Continues

2011-05-05T10:13:00.000-05:00

Today is Cinco de Mayo. I could not care less.

Osama Bin Laden got put down for his eternal dirt nap a couple of days ago. So what?

My law school application still being in limbo...that's about all I can think about right now.

Since I am neither a child molester or someone who speaks in the theater, I had to come up with another level of Hell for those who law school applications remain in limbo. Since today is 6 weeks to the day from when my application was marked complete, we are now moving into Ultra Special Hell Overtime.

I did call again this morning to see if there was any more news to be had regarding the whereabouts of their decision regarding my fate. I spoke to a different person this time who again told me that the secret squirrel website had the most up to date information available regarding the status of my application. He did advise that "application under review" means that my application remains checked out by the admissions committee. He also let me know that there will definitely be a decision issued by the end of next week as that will be the end of this admissions cycle.

So, to recap:

No decision yet
Decision promised by the end of next week
Ultra Special Hell

More updates as events warrant.

Milestone Reached...Sort Of

2011-04-30T23:51:00.000-05:00

A look over to the right side of the page shows that I now have 30 official followers. Sort of. You see, this most recent follower might or might not be properly termed as a follower in the strictest sense of the word. At least not yet. While she has a recently created blog, she has never posted anything. She has only occasionally read blog posts, but she's not a daily reader.

I suppose you could say that I know this follower rather well. Considering the fact that she's my wife, The Queen.

Here's the deal. The Queen and I were reading the most recent post on my niece's blog, and The Queen asked if she could be listed as a follower on the niece's blog. I'm going to set aside for the moment my slight disappointment that The Queen never asked to be a follower on my blog until after she asked to follow the niece's blog. I said that adding The Queen as a follower was definitely a possibility, and proceeded to sign in under The Queen's gmail account and add her to the niece's blog. At which point we discovered that it showed The Queen's full name on the blog's follower list. The Queen wasn't too keen on having her full name out there in bloggerland.

I got to thinking that the best way to remain anonymous is to have your own blog and use your blogger name for all your following needs. So, I asked her if she wanted to have her own blog set up. The Queen asked me to give her a suggested blogger name. I immediately came up with "Queen Ginger" (The Queen + slang term for a red head). The Queen laughed and said she liked it. So, the blog "Queen Ginger The First" was born.

There's no content yet and may not be for some time to come. It's serving more as a placeholder right now until The Queen decides what, if anything, she wants to write about.

Still, the numbers don't lie. I have 30 followers. So, it's got to be true. Right?

My Patience Wore Out

2011-04-29T12:39:00.000-05:00

Okay, I think I finally reached the end of my patience. I called the number provided on the secret squirrel application website to see if I could get anymore detailed information regarding what is happening with my law school application. I was told that the committee is actively reviewing it, and they are having meetings over the next couple of days. I was told that a decision was likely sometime early next week.

We shall see. If there's no decision by Thursday, I'm sending in the rescue team to free my application from whatever bureaucratic log jam has captured it.

In other news, Brigid posted a fun piece that I've spotted on a couple of other blogs recently about the world's shortest letters. She solicited contributions. I had a sudden snark attack and commented with:

"Dear President Obama,

Please go screw Michelle for a change.

Sincerely,

The American Taxpayer"

I couldn't help myself. Really.

Closing In...

2011-04-29T08:30:00.001-05:00

As we enter the home stretch of week 6 of the law school application hostage watch, I thought I'd take a moment to make note of a couple of milestones waiting in the wings. I'm not sure which one will occur first, but I'll take the little victories where I can get them.

First, in no particular order, will be the fact that sometime in the next month or so my 200TH post will have seen the light of day. I make no promises, but I will do my best to make the next 10 posts worthy of your time and attention as we chip away at the last of the 100s. What happens after number 200 is anybody's guess at this point.

Next, who knows when, I hope to be able to report on the appearance of official follower number 30. I say official because Google Reader says I've got 39 subscribers versus Blogger saying I only have 29 followers. I have no idea if the 29 followers are included in the 39 subscribers or if that means I actually have 68 people reading my stuff. If someone knows the answer to that question, I'd appreciate the explanation. Regardless, subscribers are not distinctly identifiable by any means of which I am aware while followers have neat little links to their profiles. So, if it's all the same to you, I will stick to "official followers" as the milestone of choice.

Also, it appears that I've been remiss in my follower "introductions" as I haven't done a rundown of additions to the list since Brigid made her appearance. She came in at number 10 on the list and marked my first, arbitrary milestone on the blog. When number 30 gets here, I'll try to do another rundown.

Lastly, I'd like to solicit an opinion from the crowd. Some people run a reciprocal blogroll along the lines of you link me and I'll link you. Others take a more selective approach and only link those they really like to read. Others still take a categorized approach pigeon holing links into various groups like "bloggers I've met" or "people who don't suck". So far, I seem to have taken a mostly selective approach (with a couple of reciprocity exceptions). My question for you, my dear readers, is what do you consider proper blog etiquette? Do you want to see blogs categorized to make your blog stalking easier? Or would you prefer one massive blog roll o' doom (to borrow a phrase from Ambulance Driver)? How do you feel about reciprocity versus selectivity?

As If I Didn't Have Enough To Worry About...

2011-04-28T18:17:00.000-05:00

It's the end of week 5, no change in status with respect to the law school application whatsoever, but there is a new wrinkle in last week's case of mistaken identity.

Apparently, I am now a fugitive from justice. You see, today, I received an undated letter from the Houston Police Department's Hit and Run Detail. The letter was postmarked on April 26, 2011, and requests, nay - COMMANDS, that I appear in Houston on Monday, May 2. That would be next Monday for the calendarly challenged among us.

The best bit is this:

Failure to comply with this notice may cause you future inconvenience from this office. Your vehicle may be listed as WANTED on the HPD computer, and if stopped, the driver in some cases may be arrested. [emphasis theirs]

It's times like these that I really wish I was smart enough to figure out how to cut and paste or insert a .pdf document into blogger for proof because, really, I just can't make this stuff up. I especially like the "future inconvenience" part. Like forcing someone whose registered address is four hours away to come to Houston at 8:00 in the morning isn't inconvenience enough. On the other hand, at the rate I drive anymore it could be decades before I get future inconvenience.

So, anyway, in an effort to avoid appearing on the most wanted list for Harris County or something equally stupid, I've sent off a fax to the investigating officer. The same officer who keeps office hours from 6:00 AM to 2:00 PM. I tried calling him first, but the mail man didn't get here until just after 3:00 PM today. So sorry. Try again tomorrow.

I thought I exhibited tremendous restraint when I sent the officer the following:

Please be advised that I received your undated letter regarding the subject case number today and attempted to call; however, I was informed you had already left for the day. Your letter was post marked April 26, 2011. The letter, copy following, alleges that I or my vehicle was involved in a traffic accident on April 20, 2011 in the 6800 block of Katy Freeway. The letter also demands that I appear in the offices of the Houston Police Department on Monday, May 2 at 8:00 AM.
First, I am unable to appear in Houston on Monday, May 2 at 8:00 AM as I live four hours away, and one business day does not give me sufficient time to make the necessary arrangements to take off work and drive to Houston and back.
Second, and more importantly, neither I nor my vehicle were even in Houston on April 20, 2011 much less involved in an accident. My vehicle is a white, 2000 Nissan Maxima with license plate number ###@G@. On April 21, 2011, I spoke with [the nice adjuster] at [decent company] Insurance (phone number 800-Car-Dent ext. Claim / claim number #########) who is the adjuster for the insurance company of one of the other driver's involved. Ms. [nice adjuster] confirmed that her driver had inadvertently written down the incorrect license plate number and the correct number should be ###@C@. It is my understanding that Ms. [nice adjuster] or someone from [decent company] will be sending a letter to the Houston Police Department confirming this information.

So, please go back and reread my advice on what to do in an accident. You might just save someone else, namely ME, some hassle.

Thank you for your consideration.

Pet Peves

2011-04-26T20:59:00.001-05:00

I will be the first to admit that I can be a bit picky from time to time about certain things....like how the laundry gets folded or how the dishwasher gets loaded for instance. The Queen says I'm "anal retentive" about such things. I always remind her that I poo quite well thank you very much. I just tend to be rather set in my ways when it comes to menial tasks, and it's not like I try to force others to do things my way. If you want to help out (as my mother in law is want to do from time to time) and fold the laundry the way you've done it your entire life, I will gladly thank you for your efforts, take the stack into the bedroom and quietly refold it my way.

Ditto for loading the dishwasher. If you happen to prefer a haphazard approach, fine. I will simply come in and adjust things to my liking when you aren't around. Simple. No hard feelings. Everyone is happy.

There are, however, some things that I cannot overlook. Take, for instance, refrigerator manners. Here again, I admit to being a tad set in my ways. The Queen and I have a pretty basic larder that I replenish with regular shopping trips. Everything is fine and dandy as long as we don't get too many unannounced and unplanned for visitors. I know what's in the fridge because I stocked it, I cook the meals, and I stash the leftovers. If I'm in the mood for a snack, I know more or less how much of what I've got to work with.

Until the aforementioned unannounced and unplanned for visitors arrive. Such as my oldest niece. She is a wonderfully sweet girl (who needs to post something to her blog) who is in her first year of college after graduating from high school a year early. She also is sharing an apartment with a friend. An apartment where she gets bored from time to time. So, she comes to visit Auntie Queen and Uncle Shepherd. For several days at a time. Which is fine in and of itself.

Now, before I go much further, I really must disclaim any ill will towards niece Juju as The Queen and I do enjoy her company. I just have a bone to pick with her fridge manners. I've already addressed this with her directly. So, rest assured, I'm not talking about her behind her back.

You see, my niece - who freely admits to being a moocher, is a grazer. She will open up the fridge and spot a likely item for noshing and go to town. This is not the problem. I don't mind her eating a half pound of deli roast beef at a sitting or the left over spaghetti.

I mind her putting one, solitary, forlorn slice of roast beast back into the fridge all by its lonesome (which she adamantly denies and blames on my father in law) or just a tablespoon sized dollop of spaghetti sauce (which she freely admits to).

Seriously. What am I supposed to do with a half shredded piece of deli meat or a spoon full of cold spaghetti sauce? The LAST half shredded piece of deli meat and dollop of sauce I might add. It's not enough for a sandwich or a saucer sized portion of noodles much less a plate full. They won't even dull a mouse's appetite as a snack. The dogs would love to have a bit of beast or spot of sauce, but I can't give one a taste and not the others. Splitting it all up into thirds, and they just look at me like "Where's the rest, dad?"

Juju and I have had a little set to about this a couple of times now. She will take what she wants from the fridge (which is fine) and put back the rest...no matter how minuscule that amount may be (not fine). I've asked why she just couldn't eat that last little bit of whatever. Her responses so far: "I was full" and "I didn't want it."

"I was full" I can understand; but, trust me on this, that last little speck of roast isn't going to make you explode like the fat man from Monty Python. However, "I didn't want it" is not something I can really grasp. You mean to tell me that the other 3/4 of a pound was scrumptious, but that last .00001 of an ounce just turns your stomach? I don't get it.

Anyway, I told you that to tell you this. I have to admit that Juju has been outdone.

We had a guest over the weekend who traveled in from Houston to spend the weekend for the purposes of wooing a lady friend. Or at the very least spending time with said lady friend as he's not really sure he wants to pursue the wooing any further. It's all very confusing. He's a really nice guy, and The Queen and I enjoy his company when he's here (since we don't get to Houston much anymore).

So, this morning, our friend got up early to hit the road back to H town. He fixed himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast since he's been here more than once and knows where everything is. That, and it was before my wake up time to make him breakfast. So, when I do make it into the kitchen this morning to make myself a bowl of cereal, I find this:

...in the fridge. There might be a half an ounce worth of milk in the bottom of that bottle.

I will give our friend the benefit of the doubt here and assume that he didn't know where we wanted empties put, whether we recycle or not, that sort of thing; but, for the love of all that is holy, just finish off that last drop of milk.

Zombie Gun Selection Revisited

2011-04-22T13:10:00.008-05:00

I came across a post by Mad Ogre regarding zombie gun selection that piqued my interest. As expected, the comments included the normal exchange of intelligent ideas by fanboys and haters. Given my previous interest in the subject, I couldn't help but through my two cents into the fray. It also gave me an opportunity to rethink my choices and strategy for the coming zombie apocalypse. For your consideration, my thoughts are now presented here:

People, people. You have to remember that weapons selection has to be part of an overall strategy. Know your enemy. Know the limitations of you and your equipment. Strategize accordingly. Take a box of your favorite ammo whether it’s 12 gauge shells, a brick of .22 or a box of .223. How much of each can you carry along with your other gear? How many zombies can you engage with your load out before you have to resupply? How fast can you reload that 870/M4/Glock while running for your life? In an urban setting with 1000s of zombies looking for food, a couple of bricks of .22 with a suppressed rifle may serve you much better than a case of 12 gauge. Do you really need to engage a zombie 500 yards away that’s heading for the next town away? Are your skills or your equipment up to minute of cranium accuracy at that range? In a rural setting, the .308 or .223 may be more useful to keep the back 40 clear of your crops. Bottomline, if you are comfortable with it, know how to use it, have thought through your strategy, good for you and good luck. If you’re sitting there with you finger up your nose without a clue, you’ve got work to do. Get busy.

For the record, my load out of choice for mobility would be a good quality polymer, major caliber, striker fired, suppressed combat pistol with 200 rounds for those occasions when you need to enter an unknown building (like to look for food or supplies) and an AR in .223 with as many rounds and mags as I can comfortably carry. My preference here would be either the full size Glock or the S&W M&P in .40 or .45 although I wouldn’t turn my nose up at a 9mm. Point and shoot ease of use and acceptable accuracy in CQB situations. A thought here would be to carry a backup pistol in an alternate caliber. An extra polymer pistol with a few extra mags only adds a couple of pounds to your load out, but it might come in handy if you run out of your basic load out and stumble across someone less lucky who had a different caliber choice in mind. Check the LEO agencies in your area to see what they carry. Make your primary gun compatible with the majority of agencies and your back up compatible with the runner up and you shouldn’t have trouble rearming or topping off your load out as need arises. I’m seeing more LEO agencies in my area switching from shotguns to M4 variants as their long gun of choice making the .223 the logical choice for longer range engagement as necessary.

For point defense of home base, I would still keep the polymer pistol on my hip as a last resort gun. I would keep an 870 12 gauge handy for inside the house distances. 00 buck will take care of most anything poking in through windows and doors. The weight of the shells to be carried isn’t as much of a concern in this scenario as you can have a pallet of the stuff in the middle of the floor and “New York” reloads ready to go for resupply as needed. The center piece of the point defense system would be a sniper rifle though. Nothing should come within a 1000 yards of home base without showing signs of intelligence. A .50 BMG would be nice, but rounds are hard to come by for most of us. A good quality .308 with a suppressor is a good alternative in my opinion. Plentiful enough to stock up and practice with regularly. Powerful enough for a one shot kill. Accurate enough to make it happen at 1000 yards. The suppressor may not be able to quiet the bullet’s sonic crack, but it can help with disguising the source of the bullet.

Your experience may vary.

**Note, I'm writing this on Thursday but it shouldn't post until Friday. This is my first attempt to schedule a post. I normally write and post real time; however, since I've already got one up for today and will be posting something else later today, I thought it be good to see how stacking up some content for later distribution works.

Anytime Now

2011-04-21T18:23:00.000-05:00

Well, dear readers, my anxiety levels have now officially kicked into high gear. I have reached new levels of distraction that I didn't think were possible, and there is no sign of this changing in the near future. Today is officially four weeks since my law school application status was changed to "now undergoing a comprehensive review". A process they say "typically takes 4 to 6 weeks."

Obviously, any hope of an early decision has been mercilessly crushed by the process taking NO LESS than four weeks. I really hope they don't plan on taking the full six weeks or more. I don't know that I can handle another two weeks of uncertainty. I have absolutely nothing with which to compare this experience. I suppose it is analogous to being an expectant parent; but, as The Queen and I are childless, I cannot say that for sure.

Meanwhile, the wait continues....

Mistaken Identity

2011-04-21T10:49:00.000-05:00

The phone here at Castle Erickson began ringing off the hook this morning bright and early around 8:45 AM. This, in itself, is not unusual; however, the fact that the same 800 number called three times in under five minutes was. Since I was already "at work" and live my life according to the 10 o'clock rule, I didn't answer it.

For those of you who don't know, the 10 o'clock rule is that you never call someone at home before 10:00 AM or after 10:00 PM unless there is death or serious bodily injury involved...because failure to abide by the 10:00 rule will result in death or serious bodily harm. My mother came up with that rule when my sister...the devil and I were growing up in the age before cell phones and the phone would ring, loudly I might add, at odd hours. She was working her butt off earning money, going to school and teaching. So, she rightfully did not like her precious few hours of blissful sleep to be interrupted by some idiot kid trying to find one of her idiot kids.

Anyway, back to our story. The Queen poked her head in the man cave/command center that doubles as one of many remote claims offices for my company around the country a little before 9:00 to tell me that there was a message for me on the house phone. A message from a claims adjuster alleging that I was responsible for a car accident...yesterday...in Houston.

This was news to me. It'd be a neat trick to be in two places at once, but I have no memory of ever having pulled it off myself.

So, I called the claims adjuster back here a few minutes ago. She thanked me for promptly returning her call, and I immediately told her that I had been in Dallas all day yesterday and asked what this was all about. She laughed a little and said, "So, that's why you called back so quickly." Well, actually, I called back so quickly to find out if I had somehow managed to shed the physical limitations of my human body and become a being of pure light and energy capable of being anywhere and everywhere at once, but that would have made my alibi a little suspect. I wisely chose to respond with "Well, yeah."

After a brief explanation of what happened in Houston yesterday, it became apparent that the issue was that the adjuster's insured had written the license plate down wrong. It seems this unfortunate driver was the front car in a three car rear end chain accident. The driver of the rear car, who was supposedly me, got out and spoke to the driver of the middle vehicle before driving off having never spoken to the driver of the front vehicle. The adjuster for the driver of the front vehicle was forced to use the limited information at her disposal, consisting of a license plate number and not much else, to try and locate the at fault driver.

Swing and a miss.

The adjuster was very polite and promised to note the file that they did not need to bother me any further. I thanked her and decided this makes good blog fodder to get my mind off the waves of anxiety that are starting to develop now that it's four weeks to the day since Texas Wesleyan started their comprehensive review of my law school application. Seriously, I'm starting to feel like I need to be breathing through a paper bag.

So, without further adieu, here's another installment of the Insider's Guide For Outsider's To The World Of Claims Adjusting: What To Do In The Event Of An Accident.

Step One: Have an accident

Okay, this really isn't the first thing you do in the event of an accident, but it is a necessary prerequisite for everything that follows. So, that's where we're going to start. Oh, and this step should really be unintentional. Adjusters like to call intentional "accidents" things like "fraud" or "vehicular assault" which puts your insurance coverage in jeopardy.

Step Two: Yell/Scream coherent or incoherent expressions of shock and amazement (cursing optional)

It's okay. Really. We understand. Something unexpected (hopefully) has just happened, and it's natural and cathartic.

Step Three: Take a deep breath and give yourself a once over

The breath is necessary to clear your mind and replenish the oxygen you just used screaming your fool head off. Now that you can breathe again, take stock of your body's standard equipment. Check for leaks, dents and broker or missing parts. If your brain has gone through a hard reboot after an encounter with Mr. Steering Wheel or Mrs. Windshield, take a few extra moments with this step. You'll be glad you did. If you see red fluid leaking from skin or orifice, small quantities are nothing to panic about. Large quantities are cause for concern; however, the down side is that you will probably not be in a position to do much of anything about it and the problem will likely resolve itself in short order with help from someone else or through exhaustion of the supply. Yellow fluid, while embarrassing, is no cause for concern. Unless it's gasoline. If you find any dents or broken/missing parts, stay put. You're likely in pain varying from "that stings a bit" to "Dear God please let me die". It's best not to add to your troubles by moving. Unless the yellow fluid was gasoline.

Step Four: Assess your surroundings

Look around. Are you in the middle of an interstate highway or at the bottom of a cliff? Listen carefully. Is that a train horn I hear getting closer or a Mack truck? Take a sniff of the air. Is the yellow fluid urine or gasoline? Take the temperature. Is it warmer than you remember? Wetter? Is this the place you really want to be right now? If not, it's time to evacuate the premises. If your car is still operable, move it to the nearest safe location (usually the shoulder of the highway, but parking lots are better). The cops don't want you holding up traffic for a scratch on the bumper. They probably won't come out for 45 minutes to an hour for a scratch on the bumper in most major metropolitan areas, if at all, anyway. If your car is not operable, the cops will get there pretty quick because a 1000 people just called 911 to tell them that the interstate is shut down because some idiot had an accident. If the yellow fluid is on fire, you will probably make the news. Congratulations. If you are not operable, no worries. You can stop reading right here. The police and ambulance crew will take of the rest.

From here on out, the steps assume you have no leaks, dents or broken/missing parts which prevent you from walking and talking like a normal person. Or at least as well as a fifth grader who's fallen off the monkey bars at school.

Step Five: Check on the welfare of others

This may not seem important now, but picture yourself two to five years from now, sitting on the witness stand testifying in front of a jury about why you were so cold hearted and uncaring that you didn't even ask the other person(s) how they were after the accident. It's a small thing, but it matters to some people a lot. This is one of those Golden Rule moments. You would want someone to check to make sure you weren't leaking, dented or missing parts. You should return the favor. Lather, rinse, repeat as often as necessary depending on the number of people involved or how bad your concussion is affecting your memory.

Step Six: Get Information

This is critically important to the claims adjuster. We rely on you to give us a good starting point. Write it down. Everything you can. Your on an adrenaline high right now, and you are doing good to be upright and remember your own name at this point. You want to get names, addresses, phone numbers, drivers license numbers, dates of birth (or ages) and descriptions of everyone involved including passengers (you'd be amazed how many empty buses involved in accidents suddenly have 47 passengers when there is insurance involved). Ditto for witnesses if you are fortunate to have anyone step forward and say they saw the whole thing. You need license plate numbers, make, model and color of any vehicles involved. "It was a white car" doesn't help your adjuster much. Write down everything you can remember seeing or doing in the moments leading up to the accident and after. You will not remember the little details later. Was it a blue car next to you or a red car? How long had you been sitting at the light when you were hit? If Officer Friendly writes a report, get the report number.

Step Seven: Don't Admit Fault

This may be difficult for some of us who are very personal responsibility oriented, but...just don't. Leave determination of fault to someone else. It's not your job.

Step Eight: Take Photos

Everyone, it seems, has a camera these days. Digital and video even. Take photos. Lots of them. Take video if you can. From every angle you safely can.

Step Nine: Call your insurance company

Go do it. Right now. While you are thinking about. Call them from the accident scene if you can.

Step Ten: Go Home Or Go To the ER

This is pretty self explanatory.

Step Eleven: Medicate as Directed By Medical Professionals or Self

This is also pretty self explanatory.

It's Official...

2011-04-18T13:38:00.000-05:00

No. I haven't been accepted to law school. YET. However, guess what just went to the top of my gun wish list. Ruger made me a very happy person today even if they did lie to me.

I do have one question for them though. In the days leading up to the release of the LC9, I received a daily countdown email hyping this great new product offering to be announced in 3...2...1. The SR1911...not a peep. I found out that it was officially launched by reading Caleb Giddings' Gun Nuts Media. So, what gives Ruger? Are you not proud enough of the 1911 to hype it to the moon? Or does the 1911 not need all the marketing hype it can get like the LC9?

Whatever. Just let me know which dealers are going to be stocking it so I can go put a deposit down.

Dead Man Walking

2011-04-16T23:57:00.000-05:00

If I were married to any other woman besides The Queen, I would be a dead man right now. Please allow me to explain.

The Queen and I went out to lunch today at one of our regular Mexican food haunts. Since it was a beautiful day here in north Texas and we had brought one of the mutts with us, we decided to sit out on the patio to enjoy our meal.

Now, The Queen is notorious for managing to get stray bits of food in places you might not expect. As we were leaving the restaurant to walk back to the car, The Queen asked me an innocent enough question:

"Do I have any cheese hanging off my butt?"

Most men who fear for their marriages and their manhood would just turn around and walk away from that question without getting within heavy artillery distance. Had I married any other woman, I might have chosen to do the same. However, I did not marry just any woman. I married the BEST woman. A woman with a sense of humor. A woman who can laugh at herself. A woman who loves her husband as much as he loves her.

Having had a good night's sleep last night and a good day so far, The Snark was strong in me today. I bravely responded with:

"Just cottage cheese dear."

The Queen laughed.

Ladies, don't be offended. It was said in jest, and The Queen knew it. Gentlemen, feel free to be jealous.

Week 3

2011-04-14T20:35:00.000-05:00

As of today, Texas Wesleyan has had my law school application for three full weeks. No decision yet.

On the one hand, I really appreciate the ability to check the status of the application online. Daily. I've cut back from several times a day. On the other hand, I amused at their sense of humor. Take for instance the following sentence which I noticed today for the first time:

The process typically takes 4 to 6 weeks, but we invite your patience. (emphasis mine)

Invite my patience to go where and do what exactly? Is my patience being invited to apply for law school as well? I've heard of trying ones patience, but I never thought patience would be the attorney.

I was going to try uploading a clip from The Mummy where Rachel Weisz says "Patience is a virtue." and Brendan Fraser retorts "Not right now it isn't.", but I couldn't find one on YouTube in under five minutes. Go rent a copy, fast forward to that scene and consider it uploaded here. Thanks for the help. TTFN.

Progress

2011-04-11T18:41:00.001-05:00

"Thank you for your application to Texas Wesleyan School of Law!
Our records indicate that your application is now undergoing a comprehensive review so that we can reach a final decision on your application."

I would have thought the comprehensive review would have begun two and a half weeks ago when I submitted the application, but it would appear that I think wrong. Oh well. Any progress is good progress at this point. They still haven't said "no" yet.

Liar, Liar Pants On Fire

2011-04-11T12:10:00.000-05:00

A while back, I complained somewhat loudly about the breathlessness with which Ruger hyped it's latest pocket pistol offering (the LC9) when I was hoping that all the teasing was a lead in to announcing a 1911 style pistol in the one hundredth year since JMB's ascension into gunnie immortality.

Say Uncle has a link to an article on The Firearm Blog with what is purported to be leaked photos of an impending release by Ruger of a 1911 style pistol.

It looks real pretty.

But Ruger lied to me when they said "I am not aware of any plans at this time for any new products / calibers." The have broken the ninth commandment and bore false witness to one of their loyal and faithful customers. I must go to their headquarters and preach to them about Hellfire and lepers.

Right after I find out how much they plan to charge for one, and where I can put a deposit down.

Underwhelmed

2011-04-09T20:05:00.000-05:00

Please allow me to engage in a little political commentary for a moment while we await the response from Texas Wesleyan to my law school application. Political commentary was one of the reasons I originally intended to start blogging in the first place. Then I realized just how depressing it really is when you start analyzing the process to closely. It’s like learning how sausage is made.

Anyway, I pulled up Drudge Report this afternoon to reconnect briefly with what is happening out in the rest of the world since I’ve had my head stuck in the sand with computer issues at work and tying yellow ribbons around the oak tree in the front yard awaiting the return of my long lost law school application (can you tell I’m a bit fixated on the law school application decision thing? I’m sorry. This will pass.). I was greeted by a photo of Speaker of the House Boehner and the BOLD headline “WINNING”. Clicking on the link lead to an article that breathlessly reported on how Boehner “closed the deal” to avert a shutdown of the government at the last minute by getting agreement to a spending bill that cuts $38.5 billion dollars from the Federal government’s budget for the remainder of the year. Politico is calling it ‘a defining moment in his speakership” and that it “answered doubts from the conservative movement about whether he was a true believer.”

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that $38.5 billion is nothing to sneeze on an individual level. I could live extremely well for a very long time on that amount and never ever have to think about working again. On a national level, however, this is chump change. Allow me to put this number into perspective for you.

As of April 7, the national debt was $14.2624 trillion dollars representing a $653.4 billion increase since the beginning of FY 2010. Further, the Federal government’s fiscal year began on October 1, 2010. The proposed budget for FY 2010 as submitted by the president was $3.82 trillion of which only $2.17 trillion was covered by revenue leaving the highest budget deficit in history of $1.65 trillion (with approved credit from the Chinese apparently). This budget has not yet been passed by Congress even though it was submitted in February 2010. The government has been kept alive on seven “continuing resolutions” the last of which was passed on Friday with a supposed deal on a budget resolution with the much ballyhooed $38.5 billion in cuts to the budget. I say supposed because the mess still has to get passed the Democrat controlled Senate and be signed by the president. Harry Reid and the president are reported to be on board with this deal, but you can only trust a politician as far as their last vote.

I digress. I was trying to put this “deal” into perspective. $38.5 billion in cuts is $38.5 billion in deficit spending that won’t be added to the debt. Good on ya Mr. Boehner. Here’s your pat on the back. Now, get ready for the swift kick in the butt ‘cause here it comes. $38.5 billion dollars represents only 5.89% of the $653.4 billion the Federal government is ALREADY in the hole for FY 2010. When you factor in the projected, budgeted deficit for the entire FY 2010, you get a whopping 2.33% reduction in the overall hose job that you, me, every other American and everyone’s children and grandchildren are being stuck with until the end of time or when our creditors stop loaning us money (whichever comes first).

A 2.33% reduction is supposed to be a conservative “WIN!”?

WIN! my furry hide. This is business as usual. I am so underwhelmed.

Since it’s my Sabbath, please allow your humble Shepherd to quote the Bible for a moment. Proverbs 22:7 in the New King James Version reads: “The rich rules over the poor, And the borrower is servant to the lender.” The New International Version is even more harsh as it reads “slave” instead of “servant”. We are rapidly becoming slaves to those who own our national debt.

So, who owns us?

According to Financial Management Services “A Bureau of the United States Department of the Treasury”, the breakdown of our ownership is something like this as of the end of September 2010 when our national debt was a paltry $13.5616 trillion”

Federal Reserve and Intragovernmental Holdings: 5.3505 trillion

Depository Institutions: 337.5 billion

U.S. Savings Bonds: 188.7 billion

Private Pension Funds: 587.5 billion

State and Local Governments Pension Funds: 187.8 billion

Insurance Companies: 254.4 billion

Mutual Funds: 607.9 billion

State and Local Governments: 508.7 billion

Foreign and International: 4.2571 trillion

Other Investors: 1.2813 trillion

If you are still sober and still reading this, I’ll wait while you go get a beer or some other tasty adult beverage to calm your nerves. I know I need one.

Back with me? Okay, good. The number I want to focus on is the $4.2571 trillion in debt owned by foreign and international entities. That’s 31.39% of our national debt owned by individuals or governments who are, by definition, NOT AMERICANS. If the Unites States were a company, those foreign holders of our debt could righteously demand a seat (or several) on the board of directors. If we were a company instead of a nation, they’d be within spitting distance of having a controlling interest. Anyone want to take a guess as to why the United States has been conspicuously quiet on human rights in places like China? Anyone? Bueller?

Anyone want to take a guess as to how much more of our debt ANYONE is going to be willing to buy if we don’t start acting like we have a clue. How long can you run a deficit in your personal finances before Citibank or Chase or BOA finally cut you off? It’s about the moment you monthly minimum payments exceed the amount of money you make every month. Let’s think about how this plays out as a nation. According to the president’s FY 2010 budget, approximately $250.7 billion of the budget (about 6.85% of the total budget and 11.55% of revenue for those keeping track) is slated to be spent on interest payments. No payment on the principle amount. Just interest. And we are adding to the principle every single day.

Let’s take a peak into the future for a moment. We’ll have to make some assumptions to make the math easier. These assumptions will also lead to a “best case” scenario. Let’s assume that budget deficits continue running at about $1 trillion per year for the foreseeable future. We know our elected horse thieves are addicted to spending. It’s like crack, meth and heroin all rolled into one for them. So, we really can’t expect them to actually spend less money than they take in in revenue, and I’m actually giving them credit for having the intestinal and testicular fortitude to cut 1/3 from the current deficit levels. The current interest payments represent about 1.76% of the national debt. Setting aside the question of where I can find a mortgage lender offering that rate, let’s assume that the interest payment to principal ratio stay constant. Let’s also assume that the gross domestic product grows at a constant rate of $500 billion per year (it doesn’t), and let’s assume that total revenues remain constant at 15% of GDP (slightly higher than for 2010).

Year / GDP (trillion) / Revenue (tril.) / Debt (tril.) / Interest Payments (billion) / Int to Rev %

2011 / 14.66 / 2.17 / 14.262 / 250.7 / 11.55%

2012 / 15.16 / 2.274 / 15.262 / 274.9 / 12.09%

2013 / 15.66 / 2.349 / 16.262 / 286.2 / 12.18%

2014 / 16.16 / 2.424 / 17.262 / 303.8 / 12.53%

2015 / 16.66 / 2.499 / 18.262 / 321.4 / 12.86%

The trend doesn’t seem like much right now. Sticking with our assumptions though, in 30 years, interest payments on the debt will take up over 20% of the budget. In 60 years, almost half. However, remember, this is before the budget has to absorb “Obamacare” which will takeover approximately 20% of the economy depending on whose numbers you use and raise taxes and debt by as yet undetermined amounts. As I said, we are talking about a best case scenario here.

One word comes to mind: UNSUSTAINABLE.

Now, let’s get back to our boy Boehner here. I’m not going to waste my time busting his chops about whether or not he’s a conservative or not. He’s a lot more conservative than Nancy Pelosi. He’s also a politician playing the game by a set of rules that has no connection to reality as it applies to you and me.

I will say this though. A true, small government conservative would have put every last line item of the budget on the chopping block, opened up a copy of the Constitution, and sliced off every budget item that could not be constitutionally justified. He or she would never get reelected, but that’s what they’d do.

[Crickets]

2011-04-08T08:35:00.000-05:00

Well, week two is dead and gone, and no word from the hostage takers about the status of my law school application.

Sorry for the lack of non-law school application related content this week. Work has been a disaster (die, computer, die), and I have been sleeping not nearly enough. Regular programming will resume once I find my head and screw it back on.

1 Week Down, 3 to 5 To Go

2011-03-31T17:56:00.001-05:00

For those of you following the progress of my law school application with the same bated breathe with which I await news of my future, I must regretfully inform you that I have no new news to offer you. It has been one week since Texas Wesleyan deemed my application complete in all respects and ready for review. Bribery is out of the question; but, if this goes on much longer, shameless begging and pleading may be forthcoming.

While you wait here with me patiently (or less so depending on your temperament), please enjoy some recent candid shots of Boo and J.G.

J.G. making a valiant effort to "help me work.

For future reference, cats really slow down your words per minute ability.

Boo and J.G. sharing a bed on the back porch.

Car Review: 2011 Hyundai Elantra GLS

2011-03-30T00:30:00.001-05:00

It occurs to me that I need to provide my readers with some content other than humming the theme from Jeopardy while tapping my feet waiting impatiently for word from Texas Wesleyan regarding my law school application. No. There has been no change since my last post. It’s only been 5 days two of which were weekend days. What were you expecting? Seriously, y’all will hear about it as soon as there is anything to tell.

At any rate, it just so happens that I have an excuse to write another car review. It’s also my first opportunity ever to write a review for a new model year of a car that I’ve previously reviewed. As you all will recall, I drove the 2010 Hyundai Elantra to Beaumont about 2 months ago. Business took me out of town again last week to the hippie capitol of Texas: Austin. As with my previous out of town business trips, I rented a car. This time, the nice folks at Avis set me up with a 2011 Hyundai GLS.

Did the 2011 perform better than the 2010? Does it look better? Is it more comfortable? Is it a better value? These questions and more will have to be answered by people better qualified than me. That’s not to say that I won’t try to take a stab at giving you the benefit of my unqualified opinions.

First off, let’s set the stage for a moment. Avis gave me the keys to a white exterior with mostly beige interior GLS model. It was a fairly basic car as far as options are concerned. At least, it was basic by present day standards. Back in the 70s, you would have considered this puppy fully loaded. Today, it almost qualifies as bare bones, stripped down beater car to “only” have power steering, power windows, power locks, AM/FM/CD/XM Satellite radio, AC and cruise control. Honestly, I can’t remember when the last time I heard of a new car being offered with window cranks and without AC. According to Hyundai’s website, this particular model with the 1.8 liter 4 cylinder engine and 6 speed automatic transmission will set you back $17,800 including freight. Not a bad price for the package all things considered. You could spring for the “Limited” package, get a few more bells and whistles and pay another $2000 to $4000 in the process for such modern conveniences as a rearview camera, navigation system, pushbutton start, premium sound system, and leather seats heated front and rear.

Most of those “premium” options I can live without. Especially the heated seats. It doesn’t get cold enough, long enough here to worry about it. Besides, The Queen says I’m a walking space heater. So, why bother. I’d probably get into a wreck watching the rearview camera trying to catch someone picking their nose in traffic. I don’t have much use for nav systems since I know my way around the DFW area pretty well from living here almost my entire life and having the wetware equivalent of a moving map display already installed from the factory and programmed with an uncanny ability to find my way back to any location I’ve been to at least once. The Queen did mention the desire for a GPS unit the other day after winning another Magellan Award for “creative navigation in an urban setting.” Leather seats are nice, but…why? This is an economy car. Optioning the stuffing out of an economy car is counter intuitive. If you want a luxury car with all the luxury car bells and whistles, go buy something from Cadillac, Lexus or one of the other brands. If you can’t afford new, buy used.

Anyway, I’d better move on from the soapbox and actually talk more about the car again.

Let’s talk about looks for a bit. Aesthetics are a very personal thing for most of us as we’ve discussed before. You’ll either love this car or hate it. This is not my mother’s Hyundai I assure you. It’s not even the 2010 Hyundai I drove barely 2 months ago. According to Hyundai’s website:

The 2011 Elantra bucks convention with a style that breaks free of the traditional compact car ‘blah’ factor.

No argument there. “Blah” is definitely not a word I would use to describe the styling of this car. Unlike the 2010, it is most definitely not “non-descript”. To my eyes, this car is actually attractive. It’s a whole heck of a lot better looking than the 2010 Ford “I’m A Frickin’ Brick” Focus. Your opinions may vary about the styling, and that’s okay. If we all had the same taste, there would only be one car company. To each their own.

Let’s move on shall we?

The interior styling takes its cues from the exterior. More swooping and flowing lines. The interior looks nicer than the interior from the 2010. The beige fabric was accented with black and simulated brushed stainless steel in the dash and door panels. Something about the beige with black and silver didn’t look right to me, but at least it wasn’t stodgy looking. A few minor gripes with the interior before moving on. One: the driver’s side window sill was too high just like in the Ford Focus. Two: the driver’s side door arm rest was too low just like in the Ford Focus. Three: the driver’s side middle air vent was mounted in a location dictated by the flowing lines of dash that placed the cold airflow of the AC directly in line with the 3 o’clock position of the steering wheel resulting in my right wrist being constantly frozen.

How about those seats? I do want to track down the Hyundai engineer who designed those seats and buy him a drink. He has seriously earned some kudos in my book. Of the small cars I’ve driven so far, the seats in the 2011 Elantra were the best. They weren’t perfect mind you, but they were real close. There are only a couple of minor things keeping them from achieving greatness in my opinion. First, the side bolsters are a little high making vehicle exits a challenge by resisting the efforts of a persons’ thighs to swing out of the car in advance of putting said persons’ feet on terra firma. Second, there was no lumbar adjustment. The curve of the seat was almost perfect for my back, but there was just a smidge of space in the small of the back unsupported that would get uncomfortable after a while. Third, there was maybe a little bit too much springiness in the seat on really bouncy stretches of road. The seat cushioning was adequate if not even good. However, when you would hit a good bump, you almost had the feeling of bouncing on a small trampoline. I’m not sure this is even really a negative. Personal preference issue perhaps.

The Ronco sliding vanity mirror design has made a reappearance for the 2011 model year minus the goofy ceiling mounted vanity light. I suppose the ceiling mounted light could possibly be an option on the “Limited” model, but I wouldn’t know for sure. We also see an updated, dare I say improved, map pocket cup holder graphic. It seems that the good people at Hyundai realized that their 2010 design made no sense whatsoever, and they have gone back to the drawing board in search of greater clarity. Now, it seems, capped bottles are kosher for this receptacle; however, other unlidded beverage containers are not. That, or they are trying to tell you not to slosh your coffee on your water bottle.

Moving on to the numbers geekery part of the review, let’s discuss fuel economy. Hyundai claims this car will get 29/40 MPG out of 12.8 gallon gas tank. Oh, before I forget, Hyundai thoughtfully included a multi function trip meter that included settings for average speed, average miles per gallon, distance, elapsed time, etc. After resetting all metrics before leaving the house, I achieved 38.9 MPG on the trip traveling south for 184.1 miles at an average speed of 64MPH. On the return trip home, I was able to get the average miles per gallon up to 41.8 briefly before settling into a sustained average of 40.7 MPG for a stretch of 32.8 miles after a pit stop at an average speed of 62 MPH. Those numbers were achieved without making any concerted effort to drive sensibly for better gas mileage. Of course, The Queen does claim that I normally drive like a “grandpa” anyway. So, your experience may vary. All things considered, those are still good numbers especially when you compare them against the numbers put up by the 2010 a couple of months ago. Bottom line, you could do a lot worse and it’ll be hard to do much better this side of a diesel or hybrid.

The build quality seems to be much improved from the 2010. The door skins did not noticeably bow out when pulling the door handles. The doors made reassuring “thunking” noises when being shut. There was no major rattles or squeaks that I could hear. There was a bit of road noise when passing over a particularly rough patch in a construction zone, but that is to be expected. Fortunately, I did not have any encounters with flying objects. So, I cannot comment on the strength of the windshield.

To sum things up, the 2011 Hyundai Elantra GLS is a pretty good car for its intended purpose. Before giving it the Shepherd K “I’d Buy It” seal of approval, I’d want to put it up against the 2011 Ford Focus (which a quick look at Ford’s website reveals a 2011 model makeover) in a head to head comparison. But, I feel confident in saying that the Elantra and the Focus would be short list contenders for a fuel efficient, reliable commuter car if one were in the market for such a vehicle.

More Waiting

2011-03-24T09:09:00.000-05:00

Progress...if you want to call it that.

Our records indicate that your application is now complete and ready to enter the review process. We encourage you to check back regularly to track the status of your application as it moves through our process over the next 4 to 6 weeks.

I feel like the minion from Despicable Me who drank the anti gravity formula and floated out the window into space. "Phhfff."

D'oh...[Face Palm]

2011-03-21T12:28:00.001-05:00

I really, really hate it when I make a mistake. I really and truly loathe it when I make a mistake on something important. For instance, my law school application. I dutifully logged in to the super secret status check page thoughtfully provided by Texas Wesleyan this morning hoping for, but not expecting, an update since this is their first day back in the office after Spring Break.

Lo and behold, there was a status update. At 8:30 something this morning no less. The status said:

we noted that your application had incomplete Character and Fitness information

They provided me with a person and a phone number to call (the same one that was listed last week) which I did immediately. The person answered the call on the second ring...at 8:30 something this morning no less. I was expecting her to tell me that they were waiting on the last of my letters of recommendation to come in.

I was not expecting her to tell me that my college transcripts didn't match up with the info reported in my application. Question 10.(a) of the application reads thusly:

(a) Has any college, university, or law school ever dropped, dismissed, disciplined, disqualified, or placed you on academic probation for academic or behavioral reasons or were you allowed to resign or withdraw in order to avoid academic or disciplinary action? Are any disciplinary charges pending or expected to be brought against you at any college or university? (The record of such action need not be retained in your file to require disclosure.)

When I first submitted my application, I answered that question in the negative.

Imagine my surprise this morning when I was informed that my college transcript reflected academic probation from fall of 1990 to spring of 1992.

D'oh!

I had completely forgotten about ever being on probation even though my college grade reports, which I have dutifully kept even after almost 20 years, clearly states that I was on probation during the time frame in question. I guess I should have taken a closer look at those grade reports before completing my application. I don't even have a good excuse for it like being in the middle of fraternity hazing or incapacitated by a horrible accident.

So anyway, the nice lady at Texas Wesleyan explained exactly what I needed to do which was submit an updated application page correcting 10.(a) from "no" to "yes" with a written explanation as to why that particular college felt the need to stick a dunce cap on my head for the better part of a year. I cobbled together what I feel is a plausible if somewhat vague explanation true to the best of my knowledge given the fact that it's been almost 20 years since and I have no specific memories of much of anything relating to the three courses that I failed leading to my probation. Much has transpired since then as you might imagine.

Hopefully they will have mercy on me given that: 1) it's been 20 years, 2) my GPA from my major courses was 3.15, 3) I did make the honor roll after being released from probation, and 4) I've spent the last 15 almost 16 years handling litigated insurance claims. That and 5 lawyers were willing to sign their names to letters stating that I know what the heck I'm doing and would make a good lawyer...without me paying them to say so.

The Wait Continues

2011-03-18T14:28:00.000-05:00

I just thought I'd give everyone a quick update on the progress of the law school application. I received a polite email from Texas Wesleyan with a log in ID and password to monitor the status of my application which I promptly used. At the time I put in my application, LSAC had not yet sent in my credentials report as they were waiting on a couple of my recommendation letters to come in. Those came in this week, and I checked the TW site for any updates. Nothing. They are still saying my application is incomplete, but they do provide a contact person and phone number to call with any questions. Which I tried calling. Only to find out that this week is Spring Break, and the school is closed.

Grumble. Curse. Glare.

So, I'm sure they will get right on my application when they get back to the office next week.

Or they'll be hearing from a very impatient prospective student. Technology has made us an impatient lot don't you think?

In other news, since my days as a work from home wage slave are numbered, I thought I'd take a minute to reflect on some of the fringe benefits that I will miss once I pass the bar and start fighting the good fight.

1) Everday being business casual.

2) Bathrobes and slippers being considered business casual.

3) Netflix.

4) My office romance doesn't involve a co-worker and is heartily encouraged by my spouse.

5) My boss being 900 miles away.

6) Knowing exactly who ate my pint of Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk in the freezer.

7) My office mates wearing fur coats and not having opposable thumbs.

8) Guns and ammunition within easy reach of my desk.

9) My commute lasting less than one minute and burns no fossil fuels (unless you consider flatulence from a 41 year old to be a fossil fuel).

10) Conference calls being taken in the backyard with a pitching wedge and a headset.

11) No one complaining if I take off my shoes and walk around barefoot.

12) If I want to take a nap during my lunch hour, doing so in the comfort of my own bed.

13) Shaving being optional.

14) Having the music cranked as loud as I want.

15) No thermostat wars.

16) My office being a mess and no one caring...okay, no one but The Queen caring.

17) Fur therapy anytime I want it...and sometimes that I don't.

18) Not worrying about catching the office illness de jour.

19) Cleaning my guns at work not causing a panic.

Miscellaneous Bullet Point Update

2011-03-10T18:25:00.000-06:00

Today's my birthday, and I'm just not in the mood to do a long post. So, instead, I'm just going to do a quick bullet point update.

As of Tuesday night/Wednesday morning at 1:45 AM, I have officially applied to the law school at Texas Wesleyan University in Ft. Worth, Texas.
I was the walking dead yesterday because I didn't finally get to sleep until 3:00 AM.
The Queen is "encouraging" me to also apply to SMU's Dedman School of Law.
Whether I apply and get accepted to SMU or not, I will likely choose to go to Texas Wesleyan for two reasons: 1) TW costs $50K less than SMU over the life of the program and is unlikely to provide with $50K worth of value above what TW will provide me over the life of my career, and 2) SMU made me mad when I visited their campus...bunch of snobs.
We heard back from the vet today about the Yakmaster's test results. No diabetes, no worms, no viruses, no obvious anything. He's slightly anemic and has a slightly elevated white blood cell count. The vet thinks he's got an intestinal flora imbalance. Bottomline, we have to find the food he WILL eat and get him fattened up while giving him some probiotics.
The Yakmaster hates probiotics.
I hate spending $250 to find out the Yakmaster has an upset stomach.
Gunshow Sunday with number one follower Ken in Ft. Worth. One and all are welcome to join us (I'm lookin' at you Bob S.).
I'm really, really, really wanting to come home with a new armory addition from the gunshow...
...but my bonus doesn't hit the bank until Tuesday.
After Tuesday, it will be home improvement time to get Castle Erickson ready to sell 'cause I'm not taking care of a house and a wife while attending law school.
Fortunately, the main necessary tasks involve tiling floors.
Unfortunately, The Queen wants to do more than just floors.
I'll make you a really good deal on a nice 2300 sq. ft. house with 1600 sq. ft. workshop on 1 acre in a Dallas suburb in a great location.
Today, for the first time ever after uncounted attempts, I finally won a round of advanced, four suit spider solitaire. Woohoo.
I really need to get back into a better shape. The shape I am in is no good. I'm the heaviest I've ever been. I just had to buy a pair of 38" waist jeans (up from the 29" waist I had in high school). I joke that I have 12 pack abs.
The sad thing is that it's no joke.
I hate exercise.
I hate feeling overweight.
I love food.
I am so screwed.

Have fun.

The Cuteness...It Burns

2011-03-08T22:25:00.002-06:00

It really is dangerous for me to walk into a pet store. I have a very soft heart when it comes to animals, and I have a very hard time saying no. It's even worse when it's one of my favorite breeds like a Boston, a Lab or a Boxer. So, it was VERY hard to walk away from this little girl early this evening.

Those eyes. Those ears. Those legs that go every which way. She was so soft and wrinkly. It was really too much for one man to bear. The only thing preventing me from bringing her home tonight was The Menagerie that would be waiting for me when we arrived home tapping their paws with disgusted looks on their faces implying that we had lost our ever loving minds. That and the vet bill that I had to pay yesterday for the Yakmaster 5000 who is off his feed again and had to go in for a work up to find out if it's serious or just garden variety finicky feline syndrome.

I did get The Queen to agree that, when we are ready, a little Boxer lady will be our next addition to The Kingdom's zoo.

New Joke

2011-03-08T22:01:00.000-06:00

A lawyer business associate of mine sent me a joke today that I just have to share.

Did you hear about Smith & Wesson's new handgun? It's called the Obama Union Employee .38 Special.

It can't be fired no matter what.

Bah dah boom.

Recognition

2011-03-02T18:49:00.000-06:00

So, there I was catching up on my blog reading on Monday morning...'cause the weekend was a tad busy with the family get together on Saturday following which The Queen and I spent Sunday with my mother, my sister...the devil, and her kids...the wonder nieces. Anywho, as I was saying, there I was reading away when I came across Brigid's post dated Sunday. Seems someone sent Brigid some blog bling called the Stylish Blogger Award.

It comes complete with rules and a little blog bling picture that looks like this:

As with most blog bling awards, the rules are pretty simple: cough up some secrets (seven actually) that people don't know about you and nominate some folks for the award (fifteen actually). Imagine my surprise when I continued reading to discovery that Brigid had selected me as one of the bloggers to which she was passing the award along.

I am genuinely flattered by the recognition from someone such as Brigid who is a phenomenally better writer than I am; however, I'm still scratching my head as to what it means to be a "stylish blogger". A little help from the readership would be nice about now. I know it ain't got nothin' to do with my fashion sense or lack thereof. How would you describe my style?

Anyway, since I'm claiming the award, I supposes that means I have to abide by the rules. So, here goes.

SEVEN THINGS ('CAUSE I'M NOT GIVEN NO SECRETS) YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT ME
1) I am a Sabbatarian. Long time readers will know that my faith is not something I talk about often despite the irony of me claiming the title of Shepherd K. I've always tended to be fairly tight lipped when it comes to my beliefs. It's not that I'm embarrassed about them or anything. I just try to live my beliefs instead of wasting my breath trying to tell people what they are.

2) I am a licensed (albeit not current) pilot. For my 16TH birthday, I was given flying lessons. My instructor was my grandmother who was an ATP rated pilot, FAA Safety Inspector and one of the two women first hired by the FAA for inspector positions back in the early 1970's. I've been planning on writing about that part of my life, but I just haven't gotten around to it yet.

3) I am 6'4" tall, and I am horrible at the game of basketball. It's true. This white man can't jump. Or shoot. I'm a terror on rebounding though.

4) My office is extremely cluttered, but very well organized. Trust me on this one.

5) Briefs. Defintely not boxers (much to The Queen's dismay).

6) I have had a moment of perfect clarity. It was not as enlightening as it sounds. (Slamming on the front brakes on a motorcycle is a bad idea. Especially in rush hour traffic. One of these days, I'll get around to sharing that story too.).

7) I cannot dance anything more complicated than a two step.

FIFTEEN BLOGS NOMINATED FOR THE ~~SPECIAL HELL~~ AWARD
1) 911 This Better Be Good. This is a recent addition to my blogroll and also, apparently, my most recent follower. I admit I have a morbid fascination with the world of stupid people. Where better to indulge that fascination than in the world of police blogs? Snark-o-plenty.

2) GunDiva. One of my long time followers and all time most prolific commenter. She writes for something like a hundred blogs now. At least it seems that way. I know of at least five she's got going right now (does that mean I can move on to nominee number 7?). She writes about horses, guns, life in general and the occasional medical related post.

3) PKWynn of MostlyGrocery.com. I used to work retail as a cashier for Walmart and Best Buy back in college. Every once in a while, you really need to get back to your roots...and get a healthy reminder why you left that line of work.

4) John the Texaner of All You Really Need. "A Blog of Guns, Food and Photography". Need I say more?

5) Candance of Crazy Texas Mommy. You want to talk about style? There is no mistaking this woman's style. I've never met her in person, but I have no doubt that I could pick out of a crowd blindfolded the second she opens her mouth.

6) TJIC of Comments for Dispatches From TJICistan. TJIC is currently off the air due to a little misunderstanding with the authorities in his home state of Massachusetts (I hate spelling that friggin' word). Hopefully, he'll be back up soon.

7) Momma Fargo of The Boogie Man is My Friend.... Another popo blog with the snark turned up to 11.

8) Mary Whitsell of ResidentAlien. Great stuff about teaching and living in other cultures.

9) Lawyer at Lawyer With A Gun. I'm cyber stalking him. Just for fun...and to keep my skills up. I'm not weird or anything. Shhhshh. Don't tell him.

10) Captain Tightpants of I Aim To Misbehave. I admit to shamelessly stealing his idea. He changed his blogger name from his first name to Captain Tightpants as a double homage to the show Firefly. I thought that was brilliant and co-opted it by changing my blogger name to Shepherd K. in my own little homage to Firefly. He's another police blogger, but he has the added extra special bonus of being on the bomb squad for his department. Great guy. Regular commenter. Give him some love.

11) Rick O'Shea of Bullet Points. How can you not like a gun blogger with that name?

12) Blue Steel with Point Blank Range. Go check out his Sunday, 2/27 post. The picture alone is worth a giggle or two.

13) Melanie of One Hot Mess. Another of my long time followers. She's a tad busy with school and all now, but she posts when she can.

14) Bob S. of 3 Boxes of B.S.. One of these days, he and I are going to have to go shoot something together.

15) theJu of My Curious Life. My oldest niece's blog. She's only done a couple of posts so far. Be patient and kind. I'll know if you're not.

I'm Back...

2011-03-02T09:50:00.000-06:00

…more or less.

First off, I want to give my deepest thanks and a crushing bear hug to all my readers and followers for their heartfelt condolences following the passing of The Queen’s grandmother. A lot of people think that society is becoming less caring and polite. I find it comforting that people who only know me through my erratic and deranged writings can express their sympathy for the loss of someone they’ve never met. It gives me a small amount of hope for the basic goodness of mankind.

Surprisingly, everything went smoothly following grandma’s passing. If you ever get to know my in-laws and their planning skills, you will understand how momentous a statement that really is. The hospice nurse was at the house within 45 minutes to pronounce her death. Coincidentally, a repairman showed up at the house to fix grandma’s adjustable hospital bed a little bit after that. He had apparently been called sometime ago by the hospice folks even though the bed belongs to the family and not rented through Medicare. When we told him that his services were no longer necessary due to grandma’s death, he informed us that he was also the guy who also picks up any rental equipment. So, the oxygen tank, bedside table, potty chair, etc. all left the house before grandma did. The hospice nurse took care of calling the funeral home. A very nice gentleman came by the house and had grandma wrapped in a sheet and laid on a stretcher in less than 10 minutes including the several minutes required to get the stretcher in the house and around our furniture obstacle course. Everything was taken care of by 3:00 PM including dismantling the hospital bed, sweeping the floor and disposing of items no longer necessary.

There were tears from The Queen (and a few from your humble Shepherd as well – it’s hard not cry when my Queen tears up). Understandably so as she was very close to her grandma and the one present with grandma when she finally passed. I was close by since my office is located right next to the room where grandma spent her last 7 months. My mother in law is taking things very well for having just lost her mother. So far, she has shown no outward signs of grief.

There were a few moments of laughter too. When grandmother passed, she was lying on her side curled up in her bed and her mouth was wide open. The hospice folks cleaned her up to get her ready for the funeral home and straightened her out on the bed so she was lying on her back. However, when they finished, grandma’s mouth was still wide open. The Queen, her father and I were standing there in grandma’s room chatting about one thing or another, and I had a sudden snark attack that could not be controlled. I said, while head nodding towards grandma’s open mouth: “Hey, you know, we could have a game of pitchin’ pennies.” That got a giggle or two.

There was no funeral or memorial service. Grandma had made it clear she did not want a fuss made over her. Besides, most of the family is scattered over large parts of Texas and California making a single location funeral service impractical. Even though she already had a burial plot bought and paid for back in California next to her husband, the decision was made to have her cremated. We did have a small family gathering of immediate family at my brother in law’s place in Granbury on Saturday. We planned it at the BIL’s place because my FIL and MIL had not felt free to leave the house due to grandma’s condition. You could tell that they really enjoyed being able to get out without worrying about who was taking care of grandma.

We all seem to be doing good overall, but we are still adjusting. Grandma was such a fixture in the house and the routine so ingrained that we are just now getting comfortable with the change. On Saturday, my MIL mentioned that she still goes through the kitchen and thinks about what she needs to cook for grandma. I’ve caught myself a couple of times on my way to my office looking to where grandma’s bed was to see how she’s doing. We’ve all teased each other about “Okay, who’s going to wake up grandma?”

If I had to use one word to describe how we are all feeling at this point, I would have to say “relief”. That may sound callous to some, but it’s the truth. When you’ve watched someone you love go from being a vibrant, outgoing person of tremendous faith to what I described the other day as a “geriatric infant” - someone who can no longer care for themselves, carry on a basic conversation or even recognize their own name, then you will understand. We are thankful that her passing was peaceful as we prayed it would be. We are thankful for the time we had together with her. Above all, we are thankful for our faith through which we know we will get to spend time with her again.

In closing, I’d like to share a few photos of grandma with you from the time that I’ve known her.

This photo was taken on my visit to California with The Queen to meet Grandma for the first time when she was still living on her own. This was probably 1998 or 1999. Remember the hat.

Grandma being escorted down the aisle at The Queen's and my wedding. The tall, goofy lookin' guy escorting her is my now brother in law. Remember the dress.

This photo is from the fall of 2005. Grandma was a person of great faith. She got down on her knees to pray and read her Bible everyday until she was no longer able to kneel or see. Even as her eyesight faded, she wasn't going to let that stand in her way. Her magnifying glass was always tucked into her Bible. Even when the magnifying glass was not enough and her body would no longer allow her to kneel, she would mutter prayers to God whenever she felt the need to be close to Him.

Remember the dress and the hat? She made it her daily task to shuffle out to the mail box after which she would sit in the front yard to watch the world go by. This photo is from June of 2008...in Texas (not long before she had her fall that precipitated her slow decline). She absolutely loved her long, warm velvet dresses, and she would not be caught dead out in public without her hat. Once upon a time, she went to a thrift store with The Queen and The Queen Mum for a little shopping. She sat at the front of the store on a bench with her hat in her lap, and someone walked by and dropped a dollar bill in her hat. We joked that they needed to take her shopping more often.

Continued Light Blogging...

2011-02-22T11:37:00.000-06:00

...with a chance of watery eyes.

This morning at about 11:00 AM, my wife's grandmother passed away peacefully at the age of 94. She was a wonderful lady who touched the lives of many people. She had fervently hoped to live long enough to see the second coming of Jesus Christ in her lifetime. She is survived by a son and a daughter, several grandchildren including The Queen and more than a couple of great grandchildren. She is also remembered and loved by many, many adopted "grandchildren".

She is missed.