Public Service Announcement: Grill Safety

With Labor Day coming up, I just thought I would offer a friendly, neighborhood reminder to clean the grease trap and bottom end on the grill once in a while. 

I turned around for just a moment to put something down after loading the grill with 16 burgers and 8 hot dogs from a butcher nearby that specializes in high quality, grass fed beef. When I turned back to the grill, it was all literally in flames, the temp gauge was maxed out, the flames were reaching about 4 feet above the grill surface (threatening to ignite the siding on Mimi's house), and I felt like Shadrach, Mechach and Adednego trying to salvage anything edible out of the conflagration. 

It was not a happy making event. There might have been a singed arm fur hair or two. Close to a Code Brown moment.

Daddy Hawk's Discount Doggie Emporium

To those of you acquainted with me in real life (or at least the facsimile of real life that exists on FaceBook), you already know what's coming. Shhh...don't spoil it for the rest of the readers.

So, last week, I had business in the southern part of the state. Since I live in North Texas, that would be pretty much most of Texas. However, in this particular instance, I am referring to the arm pit of Texas, the "greater" Houston metropolitan area, and San Antonio. Since it was a "two-fer" trip, I elected to drive as opposed to trying to deal with flights, hotels and rental cars. Just dealing with cars and hotels is a lot simpler and allows me to do two things: 1) control my own destiny (more or less), and 2) bring The Queen and M&M along with me for the ride.

Business was uneventful, and the drive home was sufficiently late enough Tuesday evening and near enough to Mimi's house, that we chose to stay the night since I didn't have to have the rental returned until Wednesday morning. When Wednesday morning dawned and we loaded up the rental for the short drive back to our home to off load our junk before returning the rental, we were departing Casa Mimi (aka "The Farm") when we spotted a female dog in the driveway who most clearly in "a family way".

We snapped the above pic and texted it to Mimi to see if she was aware of this young lady casing her house (this is not an unusual occurrence as Casa Mimi has been the refuge of  choice for many a stray over the years). Mimi denied any and all knowledge of the poor, lost waif but promised to keep an eye out for her. We proceeded to depart secure in the knowledge that God and Mimi would take care of it.

We didn't think much more about it until Friday morning when Mimi texted to advise that there was a 12 week old black lab puppy in her driveway. I thought that was oddly specific considering Mimi was departing for work at the time. We have not been "in the market" for a new dog since our beloved Numbnutt had to be put to sleep; however, a chance at a free black lab puppy is not to be missed. So, The Queen, M&M and I loaded up the chariot and returned to Casa Mimi to begin hunting for the rumored black lab puppy.

We arrived before Mimi returned from work at noonish to find no sign or trace of any black lab puppies. What we did find was the little lost, pregnant waif still loitering in the neighborhood. After much searching and following of little miss preggers, we came to the conclusion that the mamma dog to be and the black lab puppy were, in fact, one and the same. Mamma in waiting had been curling up in the flowers next to Mimi's driveway; and, when so cuddled up, her white patches were not visible. Mimi confessed to not having seen the fabled puppy standing or otherwise moving. So, a lab puppy was not to be.

But, the adventure endeth not there. A cold front was coming (or so sayeth the weather guessers...truly Texas forecasts are a joke at best), and temps were expected to drop below freezing. This was intolerable to one and all, and The Queen set about making efforts to befriend one pregnant female dog of uncertain pedigree (it's hard to tell in the photos, but she has a long neck, smallish lab shaped head, longer body out of proportion with her legs and a pit bull tail).

At first, mamma mia was reluctant to come near The Queen and gave a subtle "I'm scared. Leave me alone." low growl. Several treats later, some water, a dog bed and some food along with gentle coaxing by The Queen, and she was down right sociable.

As we spent more time around her, it became apparent that she was most likely a "dump". Some sub-human pile of excrement most likely dropped her off in a "nice area" (Mimi lives in a small, rural town...not quite "turn off the paved road", but you can see it from there.) thinking she could fend for herself. I'm here to tell you, after the better part of at least 3 days, she was not fending for herself. She was thirsty, hungry, scared, stressed, uncomfortable and still keeping a close eye on the road and perked an ear at certain car sounds. So, we suspect she had stayed close to where she was dropped in hopes that her "pack" would come back for her.

There are no words I can share for my thoughts on the person who would do that to a pregnant animal. Then again, I like animals a whole lot more than I like most people.

Anyway, on with our story. As night fell, temps were dropping, condensation was making everything wet, and she was a shivering ball of bloated beached whale. So, we decided she needed to be relocated to more suitable accommodations. Mimi just happens to have a reasonably well built greenhouse complete with heaters, etc. Mimi's house is in "no vacancy" status due to the pipsqueak in residence named Lulu who is sweet dog one on one but who has vociferously expressed her displeasure at the presence of an interloper. So, we made a comfy place for her and set about deciding how to relocate about 50 pounds worth of female dog and her bus load of puppies without inviting disaster.

Since she hadn't reach full trust stage with us yet, she was in no mood to help or make things easy for us. We wound up helping her into a dog bed after which I carried the dog, bed and all, to the greenhouse. She promptly spread out and made herself right at home. Several pettings and head scratchings later, and we received a couple of contented doggie sighs signaling that she was good for the night.

Saturday morning dawned to find us no closer to puppies getting their eviction notices. Mamma May I is much more  relaxed but as uncomfortable as one might expect a short legged dog to be carrying a wide load.

We did attempt to take her out for a walk or two to get her some fresh air and sunshine. Unfortunately, both walk attempts ended in short order after she got tuckered out necessitating yours truly acting as your friendly neighborhood sherpa to carry her back to her bed.

In the mean time, puppy watch continues. I expected to hear the pitter patter of little paws yesterday, but God apparently hasn't given the pups their GO signal yet.

Momma is really a sweet little lady, and I expect she will be a good momma dog to her babies. We have no idea what the pups will look like since we have no clue what the  male side of the equation looks like. I'm gamely trying to remain unattached to her which is really hard because she is an easy dog to like and who wouldn't want to take in an animal in need (discounting the piece of trash who dropped her off on the side of the road). M&M is already in love with her, and Momma Dog lights up like a church on Christmas Eve when M&M comes in to check on her. As much as we would like to take her in, we have other considerations not the least of which are three cats, a rabbit and an unknown number of puppies who need new homes. So, her status remains in limbo for the time being.

So, anyone looking for a sweet dog or a puppy? The puppies need a few more minutes in the oven before they will be done cooking at which time the recipe says to rest them in a cozy spot for about 8 weeks. Pics of pups to follow. Let me know if you are interested. Free to well qualified good homes.

Advice for M&M

1. "Murphy hates you. Personally." - LawDog 

See Murphy's Law. Most people don't know this, but there really was a Murphy. According to the generally accepted story, he was an engineer working on the program to develop the first jet aircraft ejection seats. While he never uttered the infamous and eponymous law in it's currently accepted form, he did say something that evoked the spirit of the law which was later paraphrased and attributed to him. 

2. Gravity sucks. Corollary - it's not just a good idea, it's a law.

3. Treat electricity with respect. See #1. Remind me one of these days to tell you the story of why I never trusted Granddaddy Aubrey. If anyone ever asks you to hold a spark plug wire, the answer is an emphatic "NO!!!" unless they agree that you will be holding it against their most sensitive anatomy.

4. Behind every warning label is an idiot with a lawyer. As the saying goes, I'm not advocating killing all the stupid people. I'm just saying let's remove all the warnings and let nature take its course. 

5. "Be nice until it's time to not be nice" Patrick Swayze as John Dalton in Roadhouse. The United States Marine Corps General John Mattis version is also instructive: "Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everybody you meet."

6. There is no moral superiority in being a dead victim. God makes allowances for self defense, and turning the other cheek has nothing to do with meekly waiting for a bullet or a knife. If attacked, fight like you are the third monkey in line for the ark...and brother it's starting to rain. 

7. "It is easy to critique in leisure what a person had to do in haste." YouTuber/Firearms Trainer Paul Harrell

The longer version of this quote in the same video discussing the 1986 Miami FBI Shootout is: "It's very easy with the leisure of years to think about it what others did when they had seconds to decide on a course of action." Corollary: Hindsight is 20/20. Learn from the mistakes of other, and be thankful you didn't have to make that mistake yourself. However, don't fall into the trap of thinking you could/would have done better under the same circumstances. 

8. Napoleon Bonaparte's maxim, "Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake". 

Lies, Damned Lies and...

...attorneys and Texas Department of Family Protective Services.

AAAARRRRrrgggghhhhh!!!!!

Everything we were told about M&M's sister was false. Whether through gross incompetence or deliberate malice remains yet to be seen.

The icing on the cake is that the attorney we thought was going to represent us changed her mind yesterday afternoon. The hearing is less than a week away.

I may have to test the theory about fools for clients.

Can't give details yet. Will when I can.

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.

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.

Product Review: Find My iPhone App

Warning: you will have to read through one of my patented, long winded set ups to get to the meat of the review. Skip down about half way if you could not care less about the back story.

When my company set me up with the new iPhone 4s, the inevitable happened. You see, The Queen and I had had the second generation iPhone 3G. It had served us well for two years until it became increasingly slow and frustrating to deal with. In hindsight, the problem was blindly upgrading the OS every time iTunes said there was an update available not realizing that the platform was not designed for the newer OSs and didn't have the horsepower to run the code.

Also around this time, there was all the hoopla in the media about Apple using location information gathered from the phones without express permission (ignoring the fact that such a clause is supposedly buried deep within the 40 something pages of end user license agreement that no one reads). So, bowing to the pressure from my beloved Queen to fix the problem, I suggested we try out the Droid platform. The Queen was game, and our brief foray into Sprint's services was the net result.

Upon returning to AT&T, we stuck with the Droid platform mainly because I wasn't flush enough with cash at the time to shell out over $300 a piece for new Apple iCores. Anyphone, The Queen gamely accepted the Droid (a Motorola Atrix)...and promptly began to complain about the touch screen keyboard. I suggested she use the voice to text feature....apparently Droids don't speak Thingie.

As you might expect, upon the conferring by the company of my new Apple iCore,  royal decree came forth that "We want!" (that being the royal we). Promises were made; and, lo and behold, the royal exchequer received a healthy infusion of cash from the treasury in the form of a tax refund earlier this month. We were too early in our current contract to get the full benefit of an upgrade discount, but we got enough of a discount to make a refurbed iPhone 4s doable (albeit at a price that would make Robin Hood look like a small time liquor store robber).

The phone was ordered online and arrived at the castle via FedEx last Thursday. We (meaning me) got The Queen's information transferred over the weekend, and all was right in the royal household.

Until yesterday.

The Queen decided that yesterday was too beautiful a day to remain indoors. As a result, after M&M's visit with her bio parents at the CPS offices, The Queen and our little princess departed in the royal carriage to set up court in the botanical gardens in Fort Worth. After my departure from the office, The Queen asked if I would like to join the royal party in the gardens. I asked what she had in mind for dinner, and she decreed that a picnic was in order.

Guess who stopped by the house to secure supplies for said picnic?

I arrived at the gardens a little before sundown and was warmly greeted by my Queen. A lovely picnic was had by all...well, almost all. M&M slept through the event. Being adorable is sssooOOooo tiring.

Anybaby, as we were packing up, The Queen discovered that her new iPhone was nowhere to be found. A thorough search of the area turned up no phone. Retracing her steps...no phone. It was last seen on a bench around the time of my arrival. The Queen claims she was so excited to see me that she forgot about having put the phone down.

What can I say? I can't really gripe at her for that now can I?

It was about this time that I remembered our IT guy telling me about the Find My iPhone app. I downloaded the app as quick as I could. Fortunately, having been the one who set up The Queen's new toy, I knew here Apple ID and password (both necessary to get the app to hunt down your stuff). Plugging the information in, the app brings up a map and pings the phone. It thinks for a moment and then shows you on the map where the phone is. More or less. There are limitations.

When I first pinged the phone, the app showed it to still be in the park at a parking lot about a 100 yards away.

Yep, you guessed it. Lazy, overweight, white collar, professional with a fantastic case of developing plantar fasciitis had to lope/jog/gimp/hobble and otherwise painfully move quickly in the direction of the phone.

Or, at least where the phone HAD been.

By the time I made it to the parking lot...no people, no cars, no phone.

Drat and other curses.

I spotted a security guard and asked if a phone had been turned in. A quick check determined that there would be no joy in Muddville that night as Casey struck out. The guard suggested I call the police for assistance.

Long side story short...the popo can't help much.

So, it was back to the app. Pinging the phone again showed to be on the move in southeast Fort Worth. After some debate about whether the now incommunicado Queen would go straight home or follow me, it was determined that time was wasting and that she would follow me while I tracked the phone.

Now, a couple of quick suggestions here. First, be prepared. I started out with about a third of a tank of gas. If this goose chase got too wild, I was going to have to break it off, gas up or rethink my strategy. I also had no means to communicate with The Queen what was going on. Second, ping that phone as often as you can to keep tabs on where it is. The Queen's phone took a circuitous route through east Fort Worth before doubling back to head southwest. Pinging regularly helped me avoid a lengthy detour and actually gain some ground against the phonenapper's approximately 20 minute head start.

We were ultimately able to track the phone to a lower income (okay, it was Section 8 housing) apartment complex in south Fort Worth. I was fairly sure that the person with the phone had arrived home as it stayed put for about 5 or 10 minutes before we arrived.

The Queen and I had another brief set to about whether or not she would come with me to search on foot. I convinced her that I could take care of myself with God's help, but that I couldn't search and protect her and the baby at the same time. After me promising not to be stupid, The Queen relented and stayed with the cars.

So, how accurate is the locator? The app narrowed it down to one building in the center of the complex. I'm pretty sure it narrowed it down to the eight units in the center of the building; but, short of knocking on doors, I had no way to know which door on which floor to have Monty Hall open.

After returning to the cars to let The Queen know I was still alive and where I thought the phone was, there was a debate about what next. I was trying to call the phone and send texts to it to see if I could get the person who had it to respond. The Queen was encouraging me to call the police again. While this went on, I pinged the phone again and, much to my surprise, it was on the move again coming out of the building I had tracked it to.

I told The Queen of the development just as a young lady came out from between two buildings heading for a car about 20 yards from us. I told The Queen, "I think she's the one with your phone." The Queen asked me if I thought she should approach her so as not to spook her. I okayed it while following far enough not to be threatening but close enough to intervene if necessary.

It turns out I was dead on. She had the phone in her hand. She claimed she was on her way to her boyfriend's to get a ride to return the phone.

?????

Yeah, that's what I thought. Whatever.

She readily gave the phone back. The Queen hugged her. There were tears. I did offer her $40 (the cash I had on hand) as a reward. She promptly and adamantly refused and quickly ran back to her apartment. Go figure.

Bottom line: the app works. It works real well, but it does require some patience and persistence. Having a little blood hound in you helps too.

FTC Disclaimer: It's a free app. So, up yours you bunch of fascist gooberment bureaucrats.

Firearms Handling and Shooting 101 – Lesson 1

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:

1. 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. 
2. 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. 
3. 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. 
4. 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:

1. Obey the rules and no one gets hurt.
2. Disobeying the rules might get you shot and not necessarily by someone else.
3. 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.
4. If you are not sure, ask questions. There are no stupid questions.

Anyone Still There?

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.

Mistaken Identity

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.

Happy Anniversary

Seven years ago today, The Queen (some would say foolishly) said I do when the minister asked her if she would take this goofy guy to be her lawfully wedded husband. We've enjoyed our share of ups and downs, and I fully expect us to share many more for years to come. I still love her with all my heart, and I can not imagine being married to another woman.

I have learned something though. When you work from home, it is REAL hard to plan a surprise anniversary gift for the spouse who also is a stay at home person. There's only so many "Hey honey, I've got to go run an errand for work." opportunities to go around. If something throws a monkey wrench into the works, you are really going to have to get creative. 

Case in point, I've been trying to skulk around this year to accomplish something that The Queen and I thought was a great idea seven years ago when we got married but never got around to doing since. Instead of having a guest book at the wedding, we decided to have a couple of photo frame mattes out with various colored markers for people to sign. My nephew who was all of 8 years old at the time scrawled "H. is a dork". Great. The plan was that we'd get some prints from the wedding to frame with the mattes and have our wedding photos/guest book on display for all to see. 

Seven years later, we still hadn't gotten around to it yet. Our wedding photographer was a great guy, but he hadn't made the transition to all digital yet. So, for the last seven years, I've been carrying a binder full of negatives around in addition to the wedding album. No CDs, and print film is quickly going the way of the dinosaur.

Working in the commercial claims, I was leery of leaving my only set of negatives with a store to transfer to CD; but, what's a hubby to do. I reluctantly handed them over; and, a day later, I had me four freshly minted photo CDs with our wedding memories now in easy to use digital format. 

I selected 10 of my favs to be printed as 4 x 6s plus one of The Queen and I dancing at the wedding to be blown up to 8 x 10 and trotted off to a digital friendly photo center on an excuse/errand of the moment (returning DVDs to Blockbuster) only to have Murphy strike. I arrived to the photo center to be greeted by a sign that said "OUT OF ORDER". 

Well, poop. 

I didn't have time to locate another photo center on that errand. So, I had to amend the plan. The updated plan involved me sneaking out of the house this morning before The Queen awoke to get the photos printed, run back home, get them set in the frames and have them set up in the bedroom before The Queen arose from her beauty sleep. Then Murphy called again. 

Oh, monkey fungus. 

The oldest niece's car would not start, and I was the closest person with any mechanical know how in the family. So, I had to trot off to Mansfield (about 30 minutes from Castle Erickson) to figure out the automotive dilemma de jour. It turned out to be a dead battery. Fortunately, there was a photo center suitable for my purposes on my way back to the Castle. I printed the photos I needed proceeded to jet back to the castle with a brief detour by the local store's floral department for a suitable arrangement of roses and other flowers all the while praying that The Queen would not be awake yet (the evil plan called for her to awaken to fresh flowers and freshly framed photos). 

Sliding into home, I returned to find The Queen still slumbering. I madly framed the photos and set them up with the flowers. Now, I just have to wait for her to wake up.