2020 in Review

My Sister…The Devil wrote a 2020 retrospective post; and, not to be outdone, I decided I would take a look back as well.

As tempting as it is to declare 2020 a total loss, a glorious example of Turd Theater writ large, the sinking of the Titanic brought back to life, etc., that is not entirely fair to the actual performance of 2020 as opposed to any other arbitrary time period in history. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not looking for a repeat of 2020. I am just enough of a pessimistic realist to know that history/karma/The Great Spaghetti Monster is out there lurking in the wings waiting to say “Here, hold my beer and watch this!”

So, let’s start off with the really craptacular aspects of 2020 from the perspective of Castle Daddy Hawk.

January – Oma went on Hospice care due to her Alzheimer’s. This was really a good news / bad news situation. On the one hand, it was long overdue. On the other hand, I had to all but force it down Opa’s throat with him kicking and screaming. While I can’t say enough good about the Hospice folks and the things they were able to do for us, I really wish they could have done more for us. We were at the end of our rope by that point (which was no fault of theirs), and we should probably have pulled the trigger on that decision about 3 months earlier than we did.

February – One of our cats, Binky, was not feeling well. So, a vet appointment was arranged; and, silly me, I thought they would give him some antibiotics and send him home. Turns out he was positive for feline leukemia and anemia. The vet really didn’t even offer any other options beyond euthanizing him. He was not even 2 years old yet. So, that was a bit of a downer.

March 1 – As previously written here, March 1 dawned with Oma shuffling off her mortal coils. As expected as it was and as much of a blessing as it was, losing a loved one SUCKS no matter how you slice it.

The rest of March and into May – COVID lock downs and toilet paper hoarding. Need I say more?

Actually, I will say more. Opa, in addition to some chronic physical health issues (which he will do nothing about), has more than a few quirks. His most serious quirk, bordering on mental illness (actually I think he qualifies for full citizenship but I’m not a licensed mental health professional), is INTENSE germaphobia. One side effect of this issue is a profoundly wasteful use of paper products. Specifically, toilet paper and paper towels. He goes through about a roll of paper towels a DAY for various uses including touching anything that he thinks might have germs on it including the freshly washed dishes in the dishwasher, he tears off the first layer or two of toilet paper and flushes that down the toilet before using the next several layers of toilet paper to cover the seat (since he has to share a bathroom with others) not including the unknown amounts he uses to wipe his own bum,….you get the idea. He refuses to shower on a regular basis and instead uses baby wipes by the box full to wipe down with. So, despite repeated warnings that paper products were in short supply, it was a constant battle with him to keep the house supplied with TP and such. So, pretty much anytime we found useful paper products, we were stocking up and hiding it from him. No, I am not ashamed in the slightest for doing so.

One other side effect of Opa’s germaphobia is that he now refuses to go out in public for ANY reason because he is afraid of COVID. He refuses to go to the store, pump his own gas or pretty much anything else. He waits until the last possible minute to ask The Queen or I to get him what he needs and then acts offended when we get frustrated at him or advise him that his lack of foresight does not create an emergency on our part requiring us to change our plans. This will be revisited shortly.

April – if losing Binky was unexpected and unpleasant, waking up one Saturday morning to M&M’s beloved rabbit Taco being unexpectedly deceased was a whole new level of suck. M&M LOVED that bunny. To be honest, we all did. He was outwardly in good health, and it was a complete shock when M&M came in the kitchen sobbing uncontrollably. We all still miss him terribly.

May and June – Aside from the continued insanity of COVID restrictions, the stress of caring for and losing Oma caught up with The Queen causing her health to crash and burn. Among other issues, she developed Tinnitus which drove her absolutely mad.

July and August – DID. NOT. HAPPEN. They were the months that henceforth shall not be named nor discussed.

September – During August, Opa finally went to visit the home of my brother-in-law for an extended stay that lasted most of the month. It was a welcome break for The Queen, M&M and I (In addition to being generally stubborn and set in his ways, Opa has been having quite a bit of difficulty adjusting to life as a widower. That makes for many frustrating situations. He is, in many ways, trying to fill an Oma sized hole in his life and frequently crosses lines he should know better than to cross.). Sometime during that visit, Opa got sideways with my BIL’s wife and harsh words were said. The net result of that confrontation was that Opa, who had originally agreed to go with BIL and wife on the annual fall church festival trip and plans made by all accordingly, decided he was not going after all. He waited to tell us until less than 2 weeks before departure. He also started dropping hints, subtle and not so subtle, that he wanted us to invite him to go with us. Due to his health issues and the ongoing challenges with The Queen’s health, his going with us was simply not an option given the distance we were traveling and the limitations his physical issues put on his ability to travel. So, we managed to prep the house for him to operate solo before departure and bid him farewell while praying very hard that there would be no disasters upon our return.

October to December – more of the same more or less. I’m not going to discuss the election. I don’t even know where to start with that mess, and I’m not even sure how to sort out fact from fiction on that front. 

On the positive side of things, there is still much for which to be thankful.  

First, Oma is finally at peace and awaits God’s Kingdom. She had been gone (mentally) for at least a couple of years; however, her physical shell had deteriorated dramatically in the last six months of her life. As I mentioned earlier, it was a relief as much as it was sad to see her go. The Queen, while sad to lose her mother, has been handling the loss extremely well having had several years to get used to the idea that her mother was dying.

Second, with COVID, my company made permanent what I had been doing unofficially and unsanctioned already: working from home. It started with the company sending everyone to work from home in mid-March. Due to the year’s financial challenges, the company decided to radically reduce its real estate footprint. To that end, all small to medium sized offices in the company were closed including the one to which I was assigned. So now, not only do I get to officially work from home permanently, the company is picking up the tab for my internet too. That’s a nice little benefit.

Third, as suggested by the second, I’m still gainfully employed and didn’t have to miss any work because of COVID. That’s not nothing. The company was strong enough to finalize an acquisition of another similarly sized company too. So, while we missed some financial targets and there was a voluntary separation program offered to those above 55 and with at least 5 years with the company, the company should be around for a while yet.

Despite all the challenges with supply chains and hoarding, we were blessed to never miss out on any necessities. I will count that as a win.

Summing things up, 2020 could have been much better and could have been a lot worse. For 2021, The Queen and I are trying to finalize and implement some long discussed plans which have been on the back burner for far too long. Further updates as events warrant.

Why Can't I Get Sick in Peace?

I had to go to Las Vegas for business last week. I flew out on Sunday and came back Monday.  I didn't go play in any reindeer games although I was tempted to drop the lone $1 bill in my wallet on a slot machine just so I could say I lost all my money in Vegas.

While I am there in Vegas tending to business, I start to pick up a little bit of  nasal congestion and scratchy throat. Allergies thinks I. I'm not used to a climate involving dry air and show girls on the street corners. Speaking of things I'm not used to, Vegas is probably the only place in the country where you can have a marijuana "dispensary" next door to a gun range next door to a wedding chapel next door to a world class buffet. When they say Sin City, they ain't just whistling Dixie buster. The restaurant proudly displaying a sign that said "over 350 pounds eats free" was just icing on the decadence cake.

So, any post nasal drip, I come home very late Monday night. I get off the plane hungry not having had time to grab food before departure in Lost Wages. Dallas Love Field is borderline ghost town at 11:30. By the time I made it back to my vehicle and out the parking garage, it was past midnight. The Queen didn't help matters by tempting me with Facebook videos of a deep dish, stuffed crust, double three cheese blend with an extra side of cheese pizza dusted in grated Parmesean.

So, naturally, I go looking for pizza. Surely, in Dallas, there would be a pizza place open until at least 1:00 AM. I go Googling. Nothing near the airport claimed to be open. Not that such would have been my first choice. It's a 30 minute drive from the airport back to the house. Cold pizza is not nearly as enticing as hot pizza. What about near the house? Surely my humble suburb had a Domino's open late? According to their website, yes, they had a location just a few miles from my house that was open until 1:00AM.

Huzzah. The tired traveler is saved from starving to death.

Not so fast garlic sauce.

I call the number. It's 12:06 AM. I sit on hold for 8 minutes while a lovely computer recorded female voice tells me about all the wonderful employment opportunities available to me at Domino's and someone will be with me shortly to take my order. How freaking busy can a Domino's be on a Monday night just after midnight? Did the Marijuana Growers Convention come to town and no one told me? I grow a tad impatient and hang up. I tried calling back at 12:14AM. Same lovely recording. I have no moved from impatient to peeved. Perhaps some twit is talking to their significant other or playing Pokémon or whatever it is Domino's employees do when they should be answering the PHONE!!!!

Calm down. It's just the hunger making you rage. Their probably all just busy...at midnight...on a Monday.

I call again at 12:21AM. Now, I was expecting at the very least the same cheerful recorded voice saying someone would eventually take my order. The website said they're open until 1:00AM. I expect someone to take orders until 1:00 AM. Or, at least answer the phone and say sorry, last order has to be in by 12:45 or something. So, you can imagine my puzzlement when a new pre-recorded greeting reached my ears proclaiming that Domino's was now closed for the evening.

Oh really. Do tell.

Some smarmy bugger went and flipped a switch rather than take an order. Since this location is on my way home, more or less. I decided to swing by for a little looksee.

You know, it was really tempting, when I arrived at the location at about 12:36 AM, to drive my truck through the front window when I saw no less than 4 Domino's employees standing around doing not much of anything.

A plague of flying monkeys engaging in deviant behavior with footballs upon your store Domino's. I shall never grace your business with my money again.

So, Tuesday dawns. I decided that working from home made perfect sense in light of my late night misadventures. I work in an office where I report to no one directly, and no one reports directly to me. My phone was already forwarded to my work cell phone. As long as I logged in to my computer and answered the phone, no one would know or care where I was.

Wednesday, saw me back at the office. The sniffles and cough had started to settle in for a long winter stay. I kept foolishly thinking it was just allergies. Thursday didn't go any better, and my voice made it known that it was going to make a break for it before the end of the day. By Thursday evening, it was clear something in the viral/bacterial family had gotten a hold of me. It was early to bed after dinner. Unfortunately, it was not a restful night's sleep.

Nausea and a glorious bit of acid reflux woke me up in the wee hours. I spent some quality time in the restroom trying to decide which orifice was going to win the honors of expelling the demons. Since my upper respiratory tract was busy coughing up a lung and waking up The Queen, the traditional exit won the coin toss. I eventually made it back to bed. I assume The Queen did as well. I was beyond caring at that point.

Friday morning dawned with me sleeping through all my alarms and waking at 9:30 AM to a massive headache, more coughing, sneezing and a low grade fever. I texted the boss that work from home was going to be attempted and proceeded to slog through my work day as best as I could manage. I have a vague memory of cooking chili for dinner before collapsing into sleep early again.

Sometime in the night, I relocated to the recliner. I'm not sure that did any good, but it was worth a shot. I could breathe slightly better through one nostril in a semi reclined position as opposed to no nostrils in the fully supine position.

Saturday morning dawned with me back in bed again. The Queen allowed as how she felt like garbage too. Great. Misery loves company. For the last several years, I have been unable to fully enjoy my customary illness remedy: pulling the covers over my head and sleeping for three days. The reason for this is that The Queen has a tendency to get ill at the same time as I. Dreadfully inconvenient since I am her caretaker.

To make matters worse, we were out of drinking water. Yes, we are water snobs. I say "we" referring to the household as a collective whole.  I am more than content to swill tap water when necessary; however, I can easily discern the difference in flavor between filtered water, Fiji water and the taps from several municipalities in our area. So, we buy our water by the 5 gallon refillable bottle. We had 6 of those suckers at one time; but, through attrition and misfortune, we are down to 4.

By the by, water weighs in at about 8 pounds per gallon making one of those bottles, when full, about 40 pounds of  dead weight. Ever try lifting 40 pounds when you have a massive headache? I'm pretty sure that's what a stroke feels like just before it happens.

So, after a slight detour, back to our story. Saturday sees us headed off to the local Whole Foods to refill our water stocks from their carefully filtered sources (don't go there...just don't, there are things I do for love that you will not understand). I suggested to The Queen that a rotisserie chicken and some mac n cheese were ideal options for dinner saving everyone some trouble since I had no bloody intention of cooking. The Queen, in her infinite wisdom, acknowledged that this was a splendid idea.

We returned home at which time I crawled back into bed in a futile attempt to continue with my traditional illness remedy. Dinner was inhaled at some point. The Queen and I watched a couple of movies to distract ourselves. A snack of leftover chili was had. The Queen reported feeling better. I, however, was not.

Which brings us to today. I've been stuck with the same low grade fever. Still coughing and sneezing. Fortunately, the headache has receded from massive to minor inconvenience. The Queen and I have enjoyed a restful day in bed plucking away at our laptops. Until just before 5:00 PM when I received a call from my father in law, Opa.

It seems Opa had taken Oma out for a little drive and his vehicle sprouted a flat tire. Bear in mind, it's 50 degrees outside with the temperature dropping as the sun goes down. I'm the only one in the house capable of changing a flat tire since my father in law has a major hernia issue, Oma wouldn't know the difference between a lug nut and a tire if her life depended on it, M&M hasn't received proper training on vehicle maintenance yet, and The Queen is still on the gimp from injuring her foot a few weeks back.

That leaves me. I get dressed in warm clothing not wanting to make matters worse. Ha. That's funny. I make sure my truck is topped off with fluids (since my truck has all the tools in it and will carry my 3 ton floor jack without a problem). Good thing too. The radiator was a wee bit low as was the oil, and it turns out Opa's vehicle had a jack but no tool to cause the jack to actually do jack about jack.

I prefer my floor jack any way.

I arrive to discover Opa's vehicle parked way, way, way at the back of a new subdivision. They've paved the streets and alleys, but the rest is mud. Somehow, Opa managed to find his way down one of these recently paved alleyways which were not strictly open to the public nor completely finished as the storm water drains had just recently been installed. The Opamobile is parked in an good spot for a tire change thankfully. I get out to inspect the problem and discover that the passenger front tire is completely separated from the rim after getting punctured in the sidewall, and a good bit of the rim has been chewed up and broken off. That's a dead donut right there. No chance of salvaging either rim or tire.

As near as I can tell, Opa didn't see the fact that the recently installed storm drain was sitting neatly inside a formed hole in the concrete paving of the recently paved alley which left just enough room between the pavement and the storm drain for one SUV tire to drop in neatly and off camber enough to get punctured by a wooden stake holding the concrete forms in place. The reason Opa didn't see this is that today's rains had left a muddy pool of water covering the area of the as yet uncompleted storm drain.

Before I had arrived, Opa had managed  to pull the spare tire out of the wheel well. It's a full sized spare for an SUV. Remember Opa? The one with the hernia condition? I appreciate the attempt at helping, but don't kill yourself old man. That's my job.

Anywho, I get what's left of the dead donut off and wisely check the spare before installation. Wouldn't you know it? Not even enough air to register on the tire pressure gauge. Fortunately, I came prepared. My truck is pretty well stocked for a clunker. I grabbed the air pump; and, a few minutes later, we had a properly aired up full size spare.

By now, the sun is down, and I am both chilled and sweating at the same time. Neat trick that. You should try it sometime. I'm out of  breath too. I should really give up this getting sick business since I can't seem to die in peace.

Lug nuts get tightened as much as I'm willing to do without dragging out the torque wrench. Opa gets back in his vehicle and promptly can't find the keys.

[facepalm] You've got to be kidding me.

We search high and low even resorting to frisking poor Oma (you just can't take any chances with those Alzheimer's folks). The keys finally turn up between the center console and the driver's seat where an inadvertent elbow must have knocked them off to (why Opa put them on the center console in the first place is a mystery to me...that man's logic escapes me sometimes).

Now, I'm back home recording this for posterity after consuming some really good Mediterranean food. I'm going to, once again, attempt to pull the covers over my head and sleep.

Good night.

Some Thoughts for M&M's Future Suitors

Though I am loathe to admit it, one day, in the not too distant future (the further the better), my little M&M will look upon a boy with a gleam in her eye and captivate the poor, unsuspecting youth thereby earning a level of scrutiny usually only reserved for sub atomic particles and IRS audits. Dear lad, here are some things for you to think about as you enjoy the relaxing sounds of latex gloves being pulled on and shotgun shells being chambered.

1) Don't run...you'll only die tired.

While this has been the motto of the United States Marine Corps Snipers, there is much truth here for you to consider. Note, the slowest bullet I shoot flys at a leisurely (and subsonic) 850ish feet per second.

You don't.

2) No smoking...unless you enjoy being on fire.

3) Old age and treachery trumps youth and ability.

I was your age once. I know what you're thinking. I know what you're going to do before you do it. You, however, lack the breadth of my experience. You have no idea what I am capable of. By the way...your shoe laces are untied.

4) Life isn't fair...neither am I.

You are assumed to be on notice of the rules and expectations. If you are unclear on what those rules or expectations are, you'd best ask questions ahead of time.

5) Freedom of choice exists...freedom from consequences does not.

Go ahead...try and violate the law of gravity. See how that works out for you. Same concept applies with me and my daughter.

Have a nice day.

At Brigid's Request

Many of you who read here also read Brigid's blog, Home on the Range. If you don't, you have my sincerest condolences for missing out on some seriously good writing, drool worthy recipes and a host of other goodness including some great photography. If you do, you know that her brother is battling cancer and is facing a bone marrow transplant.

Brigid made a simple request a few weeks ago now that we spread the word regarding blood donation. With M&M's adoption followed by the craziness of the week that followed with illness o' plenty, I am just now getting around to fulfilling her request.

If you are not pathologically afraid of needles as I am (thanks to a bad experience at age 6 or so), please consider donating blood. I've given blood exactly two times as an adult and once in high school. Someone needs to pick up the slack for me.

Adventures in Modern Medicine

No. This is not a post about Obamacare. I just downloaded all 193 pages of Chief Justice Roberts’ opinion today, and I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. I may choose to ignore that topic entirely or just line the cat box with it. I haven’t decided yet.

So, what is this post about? Well, for starters, I’ve seen the inside of a hospital twice in the past 48 hours. Why, you ask? That’s kinda why I’m writing isn’t it?

First up, we spent a glorious eight hours at the hospital on Monday for Mini Me’s scheduled oral surgery. We were originally supposed to be at the hospital at 8:30 AM. After The Queen’s last minute headaches getting Mini Me’s Medicaid coverage sorted out at the end of the week last week, we were told to have him there at 10:30 AM with no solid foods after 12:00 midnight the night before and no liquids after 8:30 AM the morning of. We arrived at the hospital on time…only to be told we weren’t supposed to be there until 12:30 PM.

???? Blink, Blink. What the…?

Who in their right mind schedules a general anesthesia surgery requiring fasting for a four year old at 12:30 in the afternoon?

Anywho. Mini Me’s real parents were there to help which was great. Mini Me spent most of the time before he was called back for pre-op playing Duck, Duck, Goose and other games with Mom and Step Dad. He never once complained about being hungry or thirsty. He never got scared about the surgery itself. He did start crying when he was called for pre-op, but that was only because he had to stop playing with mom.

Allow me a short aside here: Liquid Versed is THE bomb. Seriously. There is nothing better for calming a child that is stressed out. Inside of 30 minutes, Mini Me was more glazed over than a jelly donut.

Anydrugs…the final damage was pretty steep for a little guy to go through. All 20 baby teeth had to have work done on them. Nine were extracted (seven on top, three on bottom). One of the remaining top teeth had a crown placed. The remaining ten teeth all had fillings. The good news was that there was no active infection at the time of the surgery. So, no anti-biotics to take. His permanent teeth should start coming in within the next year; however, it will be about six years before he has all his teeth again.

The moral of the story is: Parents should not give carbonated sodas and lots of sugary snacks to kids on a daily basis. Think about it. Coke is recommended by mechanics for removing corrosion from car battery terminals and is also known to destroy the concrete in the warehouses where it is stored. What do you think it is doing to your teeth?

On another note, the drugs had an interesting side effect. Mini Me has started calling The Queen “mommy”. He also called me “daddy” for the first time yesterday (Tuesday). I almost did a double take when he said it as I wasn’t completely sure I heard him right. The Queen and I both agreed that hearing that for the first time was a little weird. Those words seem to come with a lot more baggage when you hear them from a child. Heavily laden with responsibility and expectation as it were.

But wait, there’s more. Little M&M was not content to let Mini Me have all the fun and attention. She woke up yesterday with a fever and cough. The Queen initially declined my suggestion that we take her to the doctor. Sometime between then and 5:30 when I was stuck in traffic, she changed her mind and decided that M&M had to go to the doctor RIGHT NOW!!! Well, the ER is the only option for an infant less than one year old at 6:00 PM on a national holiday eve.

Off we go to the ER. Little girl had a fever of 102.6. That’s a bit much for a boo boo. She was sitting up all proud and happy in the ER though. Rosy cheeks and all. She didn’t seem to mind. She was the center of attention. I kept Mini Me and The Banshee busy while The Queen handled medical consenter duties. We finally made it home about an hour or two ago. The doctor said she thought it was a viral infection…meaning they don’t know what it is. We were instructed to manage the fever with infant Tylenol. Keep an eye on her. Yeah, like she ever leaves our sight except when we are asleep.

In other news, the status conference in M&M’s bio parents’ rights case was held last week. What we were told to expect did not happen. We were expecting a trial date to be set. No such luck. After the hearing we were told by the CPS caseworker’s supervisor that “they don’t yet have grounds” to terminate rights. By my count, they have at least nine separate grounds. So, something else is going on, and I have no idea what it is.

There will be a family conference with the bio parents sometime soon to try and identify other family members who may be viable alternatives to take M&M. Unless we are woefully misinformed by a certain other family member who is no longer in the picture, that conference will be a complete failure and total waste of time and taxpayer money. If that goes according to plan, the hearing that the court scheduled for mid October will be cancelled and rescheduled or repurposed. If that does NOT go according to plan, we will have to take more drastic measures.

In the meantime, we continue to sit back, hurry up and wait.

The good news is that M&M gets to wait with us and not anyone else.

I do want to take a moment here and comment on the difference in attitudes between M&M’s parents and the parents of Mini Me and The Banshee. Mini Me and The Banshee’s mom and dad are pleasant people who are grateful for the care we are giving their kids. They genuinely love their kids. They have not missed a visit in two months. They’ve done everything ordered by the court that has been available to do thus far. Momma recognizes that it was HER choices that led them to where they are now, and it will take HER making changes to HERSELF to get her kids back.

By contrast, M&M’s parents had that look in their eyes at the hearing that they wanted us to drop dead. Every time we have had any contact with them or have reports about their situation, they are always making excuses for this or that. They blame the system for their situation. They are not even trying to do the bare minimum the court has ordered them to do. They’ve been kicked out of their state funded classes for non-attendance. They have no home. They do not have consistent employment or reliable transportation. They have not gone to counseling. In short, they have done nada, zip, zero.

And the state is considering giving M&M back to them.

I want my girl. I want out of the system.  If M&M is the only child The Queen and I ever have, so be it. She is worth it.

My Life is a Bad Country Country Song - Part 1 of ?

I'm sure you all have heard the joke about what happens when you play a country song backwards...you get your wife back, your truck back, your dog back, your hair.... Let that be a warning to those readers who are faint of heart or overly emotional...there be teary eyed moments to follow. I'm also going to break this up into at least two parts because 1) I don't feel like writing it all down in one sitting, 2) you probably don't need that much bad news in one sitting, and 3) did I mention I really don't feel like writing this all in one sitting? Heck, I've been avoiding thinking about parts of this much less even writing about it.  Before I go any further, I will tell you now to alleviate any concerns on your part that, though The Queen and M&M both have parts in these sad tales, both of them are more or less healthy, upright and able to take nourishment. M&M's part of the story is more or less a story unto itself. So, that will probably be part 2 (sorry Kymber).  Any story, our tales of woe begin with me traveling to Charlotte, NC for business a few weeks ago. On a Tuesday. Why is Tuesday important you ask? Well, The Queen and I are participating in a coed volleyball league on Tuesday evenings with folks from my office. It's been quite fun even though my grasp of the game is not dissimilar to a labrador retriever playing fetch. BALL! PLAY! I'LL GET IT! [slobber, drool, tongue hanging out, tail wagging]. My team mates are very kind to my handicap (the fact that i can't play) and gently suggest things like "how about you let me set for you". So, while I was busy having a networking dinner with about 150 people, The Queen was busy playing volleyball without me...and pulling her calf muscle. By all accounts, she wasn't even doing anything truly epic or graceful to warrant a pulled muscle.  Now, The Queen is a tough woman. As you will recall, this is the same woman who said "If you can keep up." when we first met. I've also watched in horror as she flipped a four wheeler over on top of herself only to run up and find her giggling maniacally. Crazy broa...love of my life. So, there I am about a thousand miles away on the phone with my wife who is crying in pain scared that she might have torn a tendon or ligament. Not unlike friend Stephen, wife tears are my kryptonite. I spent two years during the darkest days of The Queen's mystery illness being stuck in Houston due to work having to listen to my wife in Dallas suffer over the phone. It's not something I want to repeat. Ever.  Flying home was out as I had business commitments in Charlotte for the next two days including an active part in a presentation to a group of risk managers and safety directors about crazy claims that you just can't make up. Fortunately, The Queen's parents were at the house babysitting M&M while The Queen played. They stayed the night with her and helped her get to her regular doc the next day. As mentioned, it turned out to be just a badly pulled muscle. She's been on the gimp...I mean on the mend ever since. She's better than she was by far, but she still needs a week or two more before she will be dancing swan lake or playing volleyball again.  Day two in Charlotte dawned with The Queen informing me of two other minor crises. First, The Queen's carriage managed to pick up a length of wire in the right rear tire. In the sidewall no less. For those who are not mechanically inclined, tire shops won't even bother trying to fix a tire that has a puncture in the shoulder or sidewall. I've never heard a good explanation of why, but it's pretty much unanimous in my experience that they won't touch it with a 10 foot pole. Oh, and did I mention that The Queen's carriage runs on 20" tires the cheapest of which go for $150 before you add in tax, mounting, installation, disposal fee, air, road hazard insurance, etc. And, of course, they did not have the $150 tire in stock. They only had the $180 or the $220 tire in stock. That's $250 I had to spend for the safety and security of my family that I willingly but not happily spent in light of the fact that the existing tire had a lot of tread life left on it.  The other day two crisis is the heat pump at Castle Erickson. I reported on the effects of last summer's heat wave on the castle's HVAC system. Well, The Queen reported that we are in for a repeat as the system was not cooling the house. And we haven't even really gotten consistently above 90 yet much less 100. We had our regular AC guy (who is a friend and church member with my brother in law) come out a few days after I got back from Charlotte  and recharge the system which has historically at least helped the problem. 30 pounds of R22 later, we had cool air blowing...for all of two weeks. As of Wednesday of this week, there was no cold air and no frozen refrigerant lines meaning there was no refrigerant in the system. I had companies out on Thursday to bid on a replacement, and we made the decision yesterday on a 14 seer 5 ton system that will hopefully solve some if not all of our problems. At a low, low, highway robbery, they've got me over a barrel price of course. The winning bidder assures me he will give us priority since we have a baby in the house. So, hopefully by the middle of next week, we should be awash in cold air again.  Finally for part one, You've heard the saying that a friend helps you move, but real friends help you move bodies. Sometimes to body you move is that of your friend.  The Queen and I had to make the sad decision to have our oldest dog, Sasha, put to sleep. She was a lab shepherd mix who was thirteen years old. She's been suffering with degenerative arthritis for a while now. Our vet had been keeping her going with regular vitamin B injections in her acupuncture points. That would help for a while; however, we finally reached the point where she could no longer walk. She was a wonderful dog...far better to us than we ever could have been to her. I took her down to Mimi's place and buried her in the shade of a nice tree. She would have appreciated that.  More to follow.

Safe & Sound

As most of you know already, there was some fairly severe weather in the Dallas/Fort Worth area yesterday including several tornadoes and large hail. Rest assured, The Queen, M&M and I are all in one piece. Castle Erickson weathered the storm with nary a dropped tree branch or lifted roof shingle (as far as I could tell when I finally got home late last night).

The Queen and M&M were not home when the storms arrived and were never in danger. I was at the office about 20 or 30 miles as the crow flies from where the tornadoes were touching down. We had a couple of warnings to go to the center of the building which made for a wholly unproductive day; but, to be truthful, the wind and rain never even got worrisome where we were.

It was interesting to watch the weather radar though. Lots and lots of red extending from around Hamilton (a ways southwest of Fort Worth) all the way up through Wichita Falls. At one point, I watched as the radar showed Castle Erickson situated in an oasis of clear skies surrounded by a sea of red severe weather. That was when all the tornadoes were touching down in Arlington and Lancaster along I-20. The Castle sits roughly midway between Lancaster and Arlington just south of I-20 for those who are interested. Needless to say, I had visions of coming home to no home.

You would think we would have learned by now. For the last several years, the I-20 corridor from Fort Worth to southeast Dallas and into the southeastern suburbs and rural towns has been a magnet for tornado activity. In fact, one of yesterday’s tornadoes touched down within a mile of the former Castle Erickson located just south of I-20 on Hwy. 287. Nothing like seeing the old neighborhood narrowly miss obliteration to make you thankful that you moved. I also have a fond memory of driving home from work to the former castle along I-20 one fine, stormy day to see a funnel cloud forming over my exit. Nice.

I think I’ll be taking this as a sign that the Royal Family needs to seek shelter further north.

While I’m thinking about it, yesterday’s events remind me of story.

Once upon a time when The Queen and I were still dating and yet to be betrothed to one another, we were sitting at the former Castle Erickson (which, at the time, was your humble Shepherd’s bachelor pad/den of iniquity…yeah, right…like that ever happened) whereupon The Lady Who Would Become The Queen announced that she desired that we (meaning us) should go jogging for healthful benefits and general getting out of the house activity. I (he who despises jogging and owns firearms for the sole purpose of avoiding the necessity of running for ones life…ever), hoping to sound as if I were the voice of reason, suggested that the weather was not conducive to jogging seeing as how it was, at that particular time, lightening and thundering overhead.

The Queen accused me of not wanting to get wet. I informed her that such was not the case, and that I merely had no desire to be struck by lightning while engaged in my least favorite activity on the planet (I’d rather argue with the IRS than go jogging). After much strident discussion on the subject, I suggested we travel to a nearby park to see just how lovely the conditions were for pounding one’s feet into oblivion on hard concrete. The strident conversation about my desires or lack thereof continued on the drive over to the park. Once parked in the park’s parking lot, the discussion continued a pace for a good 30 minutes or more (did I mention The Queen is a redhead…it’s a warning sign that really should not be ignored) until God Himself decided to settle the subject once and for all.

As we were in the midst of our discussions having not yet exited the vehicle due to the lightning and thunder and torrential downpour, the winds picked up. That, or someone parked a 747 directly behind my truck as a strong breeze lifted the back of my pickup off the ground probably a foot or so before it fell back to earth with a bounce.

I announced that the discussion was over, and that we were returning to the house. The Queen wisely chose not to contest that state of affairs.

Upon returning to the house, we discovered that downtown Fort Worth had been hit hard by a tornado(es) while other twisters had hopscotched their way down the I-20 corridor leaving destruction and mayhem in their wake. Unbeknownst to us, The Queen and I had been sideswiped by the very edge of a tornado.

Thank you Lord for thinking about us. We’re alive and doing fine. [with apologies to the band Tesla for paraphrasing their cover of the song Signs].

Who'd Have Thought...

My new company, like most companies these days, has a wellness committee whose stated purpose is to increase the awareness of employees on health issues and encourage us to make wiser choices regarding our health. In an effort to further that goal, the company bought every employee a pedometer to help us track how far we walk each day and the calories allegedly burned in the process.

Now, I'm not saying the things are worthless, but I did get a little suspicious when mine counted 20 steps just for me pulling my pants up in the men's restroom.