Thoughts on Gun Safety

I was doom scrolling my Facebook feed here a day or two ago when I landed on a post by an acquaintance I "met" here in blogger land who used to have a blog of her own. She has since taken it private and relegated most of her other musings to Facebook. She leans left of center politically, and her post was a photo of her nightstand upon which a revolver (Taurus snubbie in .38 or .357 by the look of it) was prominently displayed. She proceeded to state that she "hates guns a lot" and wanted "all the gun control". 

I chose not to comment on her post because I had more important tasks on my plate at the time, and I know the person well enough to know that no good would come of me opening that particular can of worms. For reasons that most of you will already guess, that post set my habitually firearm oriented mind spinning like a game of Russian Roulette.

Setting aside (for the moment) the irony of someone who hates guns and wants all the gun control leaving a revolver out unsecured on a nightstand, it got me to thinking about gun safety. Not the liberal left's view of of gun safety, but the actual-for realsies-don't shoot yourself in the face-gun safety. 

So, I thought I would share a little vignette from my deep past to illustrate the point which is guns, by themselves left to their onesome, cannot hurt a sole. For crying out loud, someone found a Winchester leaning against a tree in the woods after 130 years. The silly thing was rusted to Hell and gone, but it was sitting there for 130 years right where the original owner left it bothering nary a soul. 

Back to our story. Once upon a time in the early 1990s, I was a young lad getting back into the shooting sports after coming of age and having my own money to spend. At that time, semi autos still hadn't made the full transition to being the primary sidearm of choice for pretty much anyone beyond the military. Heck, this was a few short years after taking my driving test with a state trooper who was carrying a huge revolver. So, I was the proud owner of a 6 inch Taurus .357 revolver. This was back in the day when Taurus quality was a crap shoot, and I didn't have the money for a Ruger much less a Smith & Wesson. Colts were already discontinued by that point. So, that wasn't an option either. 

Small digression, I worked in the layaway department at Walmart for a time while in college back when Wally World still sold handguns and cool stuff like Marlin Camp Carbines. I was working the desk one night when one of our sporting goods guys (great guy named Bud who was a WWII/Korea fighter pilot who flew F2G2 Corsairs [the Goodyear version of the Vought F4U]) brought an attractive lady back to put a revolver on layaway. It was a monster 7.5" barreled Ruger Redhawk in .44 Magnum. I asked her what she intended to shoot with it. Her response: "Husbands". Priceless. 

On with the main part of our story here. There's a point in here. I promise. So, during college, I was dating this young woman. She had 3 sisters, the youngest of which had never shot guns before. I offered to take them both out shooting at what was then my grandmother's property. We load up the Taurus, my Remington 870, I think I had the Marlin 60 back then, as much ammo as I could scrounge, targets and set off for the back pasture. 

After a little warm up, I gave the Taurus to my lady friend for her to have a go. She took a couple of shots, and then proceeded to take a pose in which she rested her chin on the hand holding the gun with her other arm supporting the gun hand's elbow with the Taurus sticking out at about the 10 o'clock position WITH HER FINGER ON THE (please enjoy this soothing music while our author vents a spleen in colorful euphemisms using all permutations of the universal adjective) TRIGGER. Now, granted, she was unlikely to receive a .357 caliber Qtip out of the deal since the muzzle was pointed at the stratosphere instead of her dome, but she'd have had the potential to be deaf in one ear for life had I not gently reached over and secured the gun before catastrophe struck. Besides, I don't like cleaning blood spatter of guns; and, contrary to popular belief, stainless steel isn't stainless. Ask Number One Follower about his Colt Mustang II. 

The moral of the story is that gun's are not to be taken lightly. If you don't like them, don't get one. If you don't know what you're doing, get some training. If you like guns and want to keep them, start educating people about how to safely handle them. 

Thus endeth the sermon. 

You've Never Really Lived...

...until you've vacuumed your back yard.

I know it sounds like a really messed up punishment you'd give a kid for some epic screw up, but this really happened recently.

You see, several years ago, The Queen convinced me we needed patio furniture. Pro tip to all: patio furniture should be made out of dimensional lumber. Anything else is a waste of money. Case on point to follow.

The Queen, being a serious shopper when she sets her mind to it, found a listing on Craigslist for a little out of the way shop that had a set up patio furniture for sale for a stupid low price. If you've ever priced patio furniture at a big box store, you know dropping a kilo buck is not uncommon for "decent" patio furniture. I forget the exact price, but I think it was sub $500. This is almost Guido "It Fell Off The Truck" territory, but we checked the place out and it was legit.

Any deal, one of the selling points for The Queen regarding this particular set of patio furniture was that the table had a glass top. Pro Tip Numero Dos: Never, EVER, buy a glass top patio table in North Texas (where hail storms with baseball or larger hail are a regular thing). Luckily, for me at least, this set of patio furniture managed to dodge several hail storms and even one tornado. Unfortunately, time and weather had not been kind to this set of furniture. Texas heat is brutal, rain rusts metal, things break and get lost...you get the picture.

So, after about a decade of service, we put the patio furniture aside for eventual disposal and/or repurposing.

Well, along came the dogs. Two dogs who'd never met a free range bunny in the backyard before. They really wanted to get to know Taco a lot better. Taco was less than thrilled with that idea.

So, The Queen decreed that a barrier must be erected to separate Taco and the pups. A trip to Home Depot and the parting of  $80 to$100 of my cash later, and we had a barrier. Of sorts. The dogs, managed to defeat my best efforts at fencing on a distressingly regular basis. Part of the problem was that we had to have a gate to allow access to the Taco side of the fence. This was the weakness that the dogs exploited. The Queen had a light bulb moment, and the table top from the patio furniture was pressed into service as a sliding gate supplement.

It did not end well.

Roughly 3' x 7' of shattered glass

One fine summer day, the weather turned nasty in a hurry with winds blowing storms in toot sweet. That lovely slab of glass patio table top toppled over and immediately fragmented into about a million little pieces of super sharp silicon.

Well, I needed an excuse to by a shop vac. I just never guessed it would be to vacuum the yard.

Fold, Spindle & Mutilate

So, I got this package in the mail today. The company I am currently temping through thought it would be a good idea to send me a birthday present. I wasn't expecting it since I don't spend a lot of time thinking about my birthday or the fact that I'm on a one way banana peel ride that ends in a pile of ashes. So, kudos to the company for sending a token gift.

The U.S. Postal Service, however, gets no such kudos.

Before I show you the results of the expert package handling skills of the USPS, we must first set the stage.

When I opened the package, there was a lovely birthday card upon which some anonymous staffer had handwritten a birthday greeting. There were a few pieces of candy for enjoyment. A business card...presumably in case I forgot who sends the paychecks.

And this...

Drinkware you say?

There was some rather suspicious rattling in the packaging which I initially attributed to the aforementioned candy. Imagine my amusement when I saw this come out of the package.

It was drinkware-like at one time

Sadly, the tips for enhancing the enjoyment of my new drinkware were rendered moot.

It was the thought that counts I suppose.

Stop Hitting Yourself

Dear Texas Republican Party Members (and you folks at the National Party HQ need to listen up too),

I'll make this simple: STOP HITTING YOURSELF! Seriously. Put down the shovel, go take a bottle of Tylenol and reread the Bible and the Constitution when you wake up.

Sincerely,

Daddy Hawk

I'll be the first to state that, as a conservative Christian, I believe the Bible is very clear on the subject of homosexuality. The Bible is also very clear about not judging others, accepting people as they are (while loving them and encouraging them to sin no more) and looking after your own problems before you try to solve everyone else's. I'll also be the first to admit that I do not understand the "cause" of homosexuality anymore than I do particle physics, and I'm pretty sure no one living has a decent grasp on that subject either. We can debate genetics and nature versus nurture until the end of time; but, if you listen closely, you can just make out the sound of God laughing at us for thinking we have a clue.

So, it strikes me that these well intentioned folks are suffering from a special form of stupid to think that 1)homosexuality can be "fixed" through therapy, 2) that it's any of the government's business in the first place, and 3) there ought to be a law to do something about it.

Do you want to take a stand on moral issues? Fine be me. Live your life according to those morals. Be the example you want others to follow. Talk to people about why you do what you do when offered the opportunity. Talk to them out of love and be respectful of that teachable moment.

Do you want to make a difference in state and national level politics? Fine by me. Stick to things that are defined by the Constitution as being the government's business. Let's talk fiscal policy. Let's talk foreign policy. Let's talk about securing the borders. Let's talk about taxes. Let's talk about how entitlements are bankrupting the county. Let's talk about the ideas you have to make Texas and America stronger (or strong again depending on your point of view).

Let's stay out of people's bedrooms. Let's stay out of people's minds. This isn't Orwell's 1984. There should be no political correctness. There should be no hate crimes or thought police. You don't fix racism by inciting riots and perpetuating the "us vs. them" mentality. You change people's hearts and minds by being the best example you can be.

[dropping mike and stepping off soap box]

Update

Not much to report on the job search front. At last count, I've put out 20 or 21 job applications and received 5 formal rejections. In addition, I am working with several recruiters and a couple of people in my extended business associate network. The brightest possibilities are a recruiter with an AVP position in Dallas and a business associate with a yet to be defined possibility in Fort Worth. The AVP position is with a company where I still know several people including one of the VPs. It's a good company, and I can see myself being happy in the role. I am reportedly one of three candidates currently under consideration, but it is a nationwide search and there is no indication of when they will be moving to interview stage.

The other deal, despite being somewhat nebulous and undefined at the moment, has some advantages as well. Hopefully, one or more dominoes will start falling soon.

In other news, The Queen and I were forced to file third degree felony theft charges against someone yesterday for the first time in our lives. I can't go into details yet, but the short of it is that we were the victims of a con artist. There are aspects of the situation that would make your blood boil were I to share. "Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord"....but, let's just say I'd be happy to arrange a meeting.

Lots of lessons learned and relearned out of this experience. In this digital age, the information is out there. You just have to know where to look, how to look and take the time to be thorough. Don't do business with anyone you haven't thoroughly vetted. Big deals (if you can't afford to lose, it's a big deal) should include a background check especially if things don't pass the smell test.

As I told The Queen last night, it's easy to spot evil when it's walking down the street shooting people left and right. It's real hard to spot it when it sits down, siddles up next to you and smiles.

Abraham Lincoln said it even better: "You can fool all of the people some of the time...." This was our time.

We are resigned to the fact that we will likely never see our property again or the money that was promised (if we do, that's a bonus). Our goal is to simply insure that the thief can't do this again to anyone else. There are two other felony theft cases pending against him which we really wish we had found before we entered into an agreement with him (we would have found it if we had searched for Stephen instead of Steve). He's currently under a deferred adjudication order in another county for theft charges there. He's also being sued in civil court by someone else for circumstances nearly identical to ours (I'm in contact with that attorney trying to convince them to file criminal charges as well).

If you are in the Dallas/Fort Worth area and want to know who to avoid, send me an email. I'll be happy to share the name, court case references, etc.

Laid Off

Friends, it is an unhappy day for Daddy Hawk.

I received a call from my boss at 3:00 PM today to join him in the HR director's office. I was gently but bluntly informed that I was being laid off due to my position being eliminated. I have never been so shocked in my entire life by anything. Bar none. Other words were said, but they made no sense to me at the time or in hindsight. This truly came out of left field. I could go through my hindsight analysis of the situation, but the end result is that the stated reason for the layoff still makes no sense.

A lot of what transpired between then and when I arrived home is a blur, and I have no doubt I would not give an accurate account if pressed under oath. Frankly, I'm surprised I made it home without getting lost or into an accident.

I have no idea why this happened, but I do know that things will work out for the best. I'm not posting this looking for sympathy, but I would be grateful for any prayers, warm fuzzy feelings and good vibes you're willing to spare.

Erratic posting and irregularly scheduled programming will continue as normal.

The Purge Has Begun

Let me preface this post by stating, for the record, I love my inlaws. I really do. I could have done a LOT worse in the inlaw department. They are very kind, faithful people who are easy to get along with.

They are also hoarders.

Now, let me back up the story a bit to give you the full effect.

Around about the end of 2003 when I was preparing to propose to The Queen, The Queen Mum's Mum (who was in her 80s at the time) was living by herself in a modest apartment in California. She was also beginning to have some health problems which was impacting her ability to care for herself. We received calls from the people in her church who were concerned and weren't sure the family was aware.

We weren't.

Discussions were had, and a plot was hatched to kidnap Grandma. She had already been planning to come to Texas to visit the family for Thanksgiving. Little did she know, she would not be going back to California. I proposed to The Queen (making her The Queen To Be at the time) shortly after Thanksgiving, and The Queen To Be made it clear she wanted her Grandma at the wedding.

Okay. Can do.

A wedding was planned in under 4 weeks. I use the term "planned" in loosest sense of the word. Most of our planning consisted of telling our friends "Handle it."

They did. Did I mention we have awesome friends?

Meanwhile, back in California, the church folks were coordinating with my inlaws the packing and loading of Grandma's worldly possessions (all of them) for moving to Texas. Grandma had been "convinced" to stay with us in Texas after the wedding. And by "convinced", I mean my inlaws told her she was in no shape to go home and was staying and that was that. Other people in the family have other ideas about what happened. They would be misinformed. So, shhhh...no talking.

As you might expect, things that should have been disposed of in California were instead boxed up and loaded along with everything else. The vast majority of those items are still in the same boxes they were packed in to this day.

Now, at the time of the Royal Wedding, the then proto Daddy Hawk was living in a modest 1200 square foot house with a two car garage. One side of the garage held a 1973 Datsun 240Z project that never got off the ground. The other side held a motorcycle and other stuff bachelors accumulate. To this disorganized mess was added a significant portion of Grandma's possessions the remainder of which were stored elsewhere. These possessions made the move with The Queen and I when we purchased the Castle in July 2004.

This state of affairs continued until October 2004. That was when the inlaws including Grandma moved in with us. This was necessitated by the sale of The Queen's pre-marital bacherlotte pad (a nice one bedroom condo) which was taken over by the inlaws after the ink was dry on the marriage certificate.

Now, picture for a moment, the Castle in all its glory. 2230 square feet of living space and the EPIC 1600 square foot man cave/workshop not including the "chicken coop" which is another 300 to 400 square feet of storage (in the "there's a roof...sort of" kind of way). It was a spacious palace to The Queen and I with more room than our respective pre-marriage abodes combined.

Now, picture for a moment, not one, not two, not even three, but four (FOUR!!!...mine, The Queen's, The Inlaws' and Grandma's) households worth of stuff being crammed into every nook and cranny available.

My shop, where I had great plans of building things (especially an airplane), was full. Not just full mind you but "stuffed to the gills with somewhat passable paths through the stacks" full. To make matters worse (from my perspective at least), no thought was given by those responsible nor input sought from me as to how things should be stored.

As you might imagine, this has been a sore spot for me for a long time now.

As a result, I have largely stayed out of the shop since. The rats; however, have made themselves right at home. Which, inevitably, led to the vast majority of the items in the shops being destroyed in one manner or another.

So, the sale of the house has finally led to necessity becoming the mother of disposal. Acquiescence was obtained, and this was the initial result:

That's roughly 20 to 25 feet in length, 4 to 5 feet high at the tallest and 5 to 6 feet wide at the widest. Most of it is covered in rat excretions.

Apparently, that was NOT acceptable to the trash service. They allowed as how all debris has to be in bags not to exceed 50 pounds and all boxes have to be broken down for recycling. So, guess what I did last night for three hours. That became this:

The cardboard boxes are being held down by boxes full of recyclables lest we pollinate the neighborhood with cardboard descecrated by rodents. It was interesting, however, to see some of the things that were boxed up. The empty glass juice jars were a little odd. The potato peeler in the middle of a box of sweaters (that were long out of style when they were boxed) was definitely note worthy. Phone books. Old junk mail. Electronics that were obsolete when they were boxed up. Broken glass. The meat clever in the box with the spices was a nice touch.

We did find a box full of old baseball cards. Maybe there's a Mickey Mantle or Babe Ruth rookie card in there, and I won't have to work anymore.

I will say this though...it was very cathartic to dispose of all this despite the risk of vermin borne disease (yes, mask and gloves were used; and, yes, I took a long, hot shower after I was done). The scary part is that there is still stuff in the shop and the house to be dealt with.

Oddities: Billboards

I love cars as much as the next person does. I think it would be really cool if cars were delivered to the house by some kind of mechanical stork a few months after a couple of cars get drunk on 93 octane in the back of a dark parking lot, but I'm not sure that's what the ad agency had in mind when they came up with this billboard:

Is this considered Dodgie Style?

This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

So, here lately, the North Texas area has been getting a lot of attention, unwanted in my opinion, from aggressive proponents of open carry upsetting the apple cart by carrying rifles and shotguns in public.

I'm sure most of you have seen the Facebook photo of the two dweebs...mall ninjas...wannabees...fools attention whores standing in Chipotle with their EBRs (evil black rifles) on display. I'm not going to post that photo as I don't need those two preserved here in my digital home for posterity. Google "Dallas Chipotle Open Carry" if you really want to see it. Suffice it to say, they look silly.  The one wearing his mirrored shades and holding the rifle at low ready, other than looking like the rifle is bigger than he is, should probably have been arrested for disturbing the peace or brandishing of some other related offense. Maybe it's not too late. There is photographic evidence of the offense after all.

Add to that little drama, the events going on in Arlington where the city council recently passed a new ordinance preventing people from stepping into city streets to hand out literature. This ordinance was the result of a Tarrant County open carry group passing out copies of the Constitution at intersections while carrying rifles and shotguns to the apparent dismay of some if you believe the news reporting of the events. The open carry group is crying violation of their first amendment rights, and they promise civil disobedience when the ordinance takes effect at the end of the month.

And now there is this:

Little orange signs like this are popping up all over Granbury (southwest of Ft. Worth). When I asked the manager at Fuzzy's Tacos what gives, he advised that they were informed that an open carry group was coming to town Memorial Day weekend and wanted no part of that nonsense. So, essentially, what they have done since the sign does not comply with Texas section 30.06 signage requirements is create a reason for a simple trespassing charge. If someone entering the business with a gun is asked to leave and refuses, they can then be arrested for trespassing.

Frankly, I don't blame Fuzzy's for posting the sign. I don't blame Chipotle for their position either. Do I wish they had handled it differently? Yes. Then again, I wish the attention whores had stayed home to beg mommy for donut money or play video games too.

In the meantime, I will comply with the laws of the state of Texas while enjoying my burritos and tacos.

Random Update and Stuff

Life, it seems, is never content with it's usual hectic pace. No, it has to find new and interesting ways to blow past the cops at warp 9 with the stereo blaring at 11!!!

First up, The Cutest Little Girl In The World (TM) got her first haircut last week. She was completely unphased by the whole event. Mimi was present as were several older ladies getting their hair done as well. One and all commented that M&M was so well behaved. The stylist was surprised that she sat through the entire thing without fuss or moving her head around.

The Queen was proud and justifiably so. It's her efforts in training M&M on a daily basis with lots of love and attention that get us the results that seem to mystify some people.

Case on point: we went for a stroll around the Granbury square on Sunday and stopped in a coffee shop for something warm to drink. It was around about M&M's nap time. We told her it was nap time. She asked to be rocked for a bit by both of us and then said "Bet." (bed). We put her coat down on the booth for warmth, and she promptly laid down and slept for an hour. She slept through the little boy her own age who came in, running around, hooping and hollering and making his parents crazy. She slept through us getting up, putting coats on and picking her up to leave. The mother of the little boy asked us how we do it. We told her, and she looked at us like we were aliens. People think it can't be done with their child, but it can. All it takes is patience, firmness, love and consistency.

I will get a picture of this sooner or later, but I saw a sign for a business that was amusing:

               Marian's Perfume Shop
               Concrete Tools
               Janitorial Supplies
               Plumbing Supplies

Seems like an odd mix to me.

Moving along to movements. M&M is well into her potty training now. She's really pretty good about telling us when she needs to go with or without a diaper. We're not quite ready for all night without a diaper, but we are making progress. The Queen did have a brilliant idea though. She bought a second potty chair for the royal chariot. Now, anytime M&M needs to go, The Queen pulls over, pops the rear lift gate, sets her on her throne, lets nature call and then gets back on the road.

I thought it was brilliant.

In other news, M&M's bladder can hold a surprising amount of liquid. Unsurprisingly, there is very little time between consumption and elimination.

I love that little girl.

In other news, customer service continues to be a dying and almost lost art. I went into two locally owned stores over the weekend to have a peek and was completely turned off by the lack of customer service.

The first experience was a stop into a western store to look for a new pair of boots. I despise most country music with a passion reserved only for child molesters and inconsiderate drivers; however, I have come to terms with the fact that a good pair of cowboy boots are about the most comfortable footwear on the planet for a man. I had a problem with plantar fasciitis about 18 months ago. Nothing helped until I bought a pair of boots. Problem solved. I even go through airline security in those having learned the fine art of pulling those things off without a boot jack.

Anyway, I was looking for a pair of brown boots to give my black ones a break. I walked into the store which was not terribly busy and appeared to be staffed by three or four younger people (late teens to early twenties). The employees were congregated around the cash register and appeared to be engrossed in something on the computer or the desk (I never got close enough to investigate). I aimed for the men's boots and started looking for my size. Finally, after a few minutes of looking clueless, a young man separated himself from the herd and came over to ask if he could help. I explained that I was looking for 10 1/2 to 11 and inquired if they had wide widths in stock. He explained that he had very few, if any, wide sizes and promptly shambled off to rejoin the herd.

No offer of further assistance. No inquiry as to exactly what I was looking for. No suggestion of alternate options. Not even a "sorry, have you thought about putting your feet in a vice?"

The second experience was worse than the first. I was driving along and saw, out of the corner of my eye, the siren song of "GUNS, TACTICAL, ARCHERY, AMMO" painted on a store front window with a blinking, neon open sign that I had not seen previously. A hasty U-turn later, and I was promising The Queen that I would only be a second or two.

At the most.

Turns out I was over estimating my time needs by a factor of double at least.

There was a few boxes of 12 gauge. Several items of camouflage gear for hunting. And not much else. I walked in and spotted a gentleman behind the counter. I was the only customer in the place. The guy behind the counter was on the phone with a distributor catalogue out on the counter in front of him to a page showing an AR-15. Not once did he acknowledge my presence. Not a "I'll be with you in a minute." Not a "Hello." Not even a grunt.

I left.

Oh, and I met GunDiva. Finally, after "knowing" each other on blog for about four years, I happened to be in her state for business a couple of weeks ago. She's a very nice person. I was disappointed that I didn't get to meet Bill, Juanita or Jay, but I did get to meet her sister. GunDiva even brought me a half dozen cookies (which were YUMMY!!!) and a gift for M&M (a copy of the children's book her husband Jay wrote and illustrated...it's way cool).

Who Can Resist Zombies?

No, really. I first heard about an online course called "Society, Science, Survival: Lessons from AMC's The Walking Dead" on GunDiva's "regular" blog. So, seeing as I have posted on the subject of zombies a few times, I just couldn't pass up a chance to see how silly this is going to be.

I mean, really, four faculty members from University of California Irvine (three women and one man whose specialties are in social science, physics/astronomy, mathemetics and public health) are going to tell us how to survive a zombie apocalypse? Yeah, this ought to be interesting. That's like learning how to survive a shark attack from chum.

I betting that proper weapon selection will not be mentioned in the lecture portion of the class.

Game Over

As the perceptive ones among you may have already noticed, my challenge to myself to post something everyday this month crashed and burned in a steaming pile of fail over the weekend. I would say that it all started when I fell asleep in the new patio furniture Friday night after the judicious application of a slice of Cheesecake Factory Godiva chocolate cheesecake, but that's not entirely true. 

The simple matter of fact is that I just couldn't kick start my give a flip to write anything over the weekend. So, having failed my self imposed test, it is back to my irregularly scheduled programming. 

In other news, I got to see my new office today for the first time since they finished installing the furniture. Allow me to back up just a second. In my entire 20 something year career in the insurance industry, I have thus far managed to escape the dreaded office move. My first job, the owners of the company owned the building and weren't going anywhere. My second job had just finished an office move about a year before I came on board. The third company did a move about a year after I left. The last company before this one just opted to let everyone go work from home. 

So, I arrive at a company that has been in the same office space for 25 years. One thing and another (you know...like increased crime, one of the male employees being propositioned by a prostitute in the parking garage, the building going through a major remodel, etc.), and it was time to move. 

All things considered including the horror stories I've heard of office moves, things have been going remarkably smoothly in the run up to the move. We officially open for business in the new space on September 3, but I've had several opportunities to go up to the new space while it's been under construction. It's been fascinating to me to watch the transformation. 

So, without further adieu, here's what my new digs look like:

The new desk will have three monitors and electically operated sit/stand options with memory presets. 

Strictly speaking, it's not a corner office, but I do have a little bit of a side view to work with looking east. My main view looks north. In fact, I can see the neighborhood I grew up in from my office window. 

The new space is close to the same size as my current office, but it feels much bigger thanks to a better layout of the furniture. 

There are a couple of minor downsides to the new office. 1) it's six miles further north than the current office which means another 15 minutes or so in traffic both ways depending on what day of the week it is. 2) it's very close to the reception area and the main conference room as well as being the main route for most of the company big wigs to get to the CEO's office meaning my anonymous nose picking days are over. 

Overall, I'm still happy. The lunch time restaurant selection is greatly improved. We plan on selling Castle Erickson and finding something a bit closer to the new office (considering we are on the south side of the DFW metroplex with downtown in between us and the office). If the economy will allow us to sell. 

Know anybody looking to buy a 2200 square foot house on one acre with a 100 square foot shop in southern DFW? Let me know.