Miscellaneous Stuff

I thought I'd take a few moments to share a few things completely unrelated to foster children. 

Traveler Pro Tip #1
At a busy airport like, say, Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson Interntional, DON'T hold up the security theater line by getting redressed at the baggage X-ray roll off area. Grab your stuff and move. As suggestion, those thoughtfully placed benches 10 or 20 feet away are perfect for putting on your shoes, belt, jacket, rolex, wallet, etc. Mr. i-am-so-freaking-important-you-must-see-me-putting-on-my-designer-trash. The other 50 or 100 people in line behind you would like to get their stuff too.

Traveler Pro Tip #2
That bin that was holding your stuff as it trundled its way past the TSA X-ray, don't leave it sitting on the rollers to clog up the works of the other 50 or 100 bags coming through behind it. I promise you won't miss you flight by taking a whole two seconds to put it on the conveniently place roller cart or identical bins at the end of the line.

Traveler Pro Tip #3
While amusing to some, escalator luggage bowling can be dangerous and embarrassing. On my recent trip to Atlanta, I was coming down the extra long escalator from the airport train to the rental car center at which time i accidentally knocked my suitcase over on its back (where the handle hides) and it went scooting down the escalator and shot off the end another 15 feet or so. Got a thumbs up from one guy. The lady in the wheel chair and the British chick at the bottom of the escalator where not amused. I decided not to bow.

Rental Car Pro Tip #1
Chevrolet places the Onstar button in the exact spot where 99% of the population puts its thumb to flip the rear view mirror for day/night deflection. I have no idea how good Onstar's service is as I was able to hang up before the call connected.

Brief Rental Car Review
The 2012 Chevrolet Cruze I rented was better than the Chevy Cobalt that I rented a while back, but that's not saying much. The B pillar keep hitting me in the butt on ingress/egress. The rear view and side mirrors were not especially helpful. Acceleration was adequate if not exciting for a four cylinder engine. I am a firm believer that a four cylinder engine requires a manual transmission to make it halfway fun to drive. Turning radius was sub par.

Marital Dating Fail
Assuming that your spouse will be excited to go to an evening at the gun range for an intro to handguns class after you've told her that you have a surprise for her when she is stressed out and dealing with allergies is not a marriage enhancing move. Selecting said class on the basis that it was a HUGE deal on Groupon is also guaranteed to lead to the class being overbooked thus diminishing whatever pleasure might have been had from said experience. Salvaging the evening with all natural frozen yogurt at Pinkberry barely avoids a night in the dog house.

I should note here that my assumption was based on an early date we had before we were married. It was her birthday, and I set up a "testosterone" evening since she was very competitive. We started the evening at the gun range and rented a select fire H&K MP5 9mm submachinegun. We ended the evening driving go karts. Outdoors. At night. In January. Hands. Cold. Noses. Running. She said she had a great time. Me thinks she was trying to make me feel good.  

Welcome And Other Good News

Before I get on with my good news and after you get over your heart attack from the realization that, yes, I am still alive and remember how to work this keyboard thingie, I'd like to take a moment to welcome new follower Joey. Though his profile does not indicate so, I believe Joey is the mastermind behind a relatively new blog entitled Senior's Mess. Joey, if that is not correct, please let me know so I can edit accordingly. Otherwise, y'all feel free to check out Senior's Mess. I really enjoyed his intro post, and I look forward to seeing more of his writings. 

Now, for the good news. As many of you know, since it's about all I talk about here anymore, the M&M saga has been a real roller coaster ride. Well, we can finally see the end of the ride from here. We got a call from the caseworker yesterday, advising that it would not be necessary to bring M&M to her regularly scheduled visit with the bio parents. It seems that they recently decided to up and skip town for good and have relocated to another state out west. 

[Brief pause for the happy dance]

The Queen and I think they have actually been gone for closer to three weeks as there was a hearing at the end of last month the net result of which was that the court ordered them to complete the CPS services plan. Violating said order is one of the many grounds for termination of rights. After some last minute shenanigans by bio dad's attorney and a failed, last ditch effort by CPS to identify any potential family member viable enough to take M&M (did I mention that bio mom's mom was deemed non-viable due to health issues?), we think the bio parents finally saw the writing on the wall and decided they have nothing left holding them here (aside from bio dad's two kids from a prior relationship...has to make them feel good...but I digress).

We can't celebrate yet (and won't even plan a party until the ink is dry on the adoption papers), but it appears that it is no longer a question of "if" but is now one of "when" we will get to adopt her. Timing of said adoption remains up in the air. The bio parents could make everything easy for everyone by voluntarily relinquishing their rights which would allow us to proceed pretty much immediately. Thus far, they have not made anything easy. So, we are not holding our breathe for that outcome even though their doing so would be beneficial for them legally in the event of future children.

Door Number 2 would be to wait six months at which time the court would declare M&M abandoned, and we get to adopt her anyway.

So, to recap: no viable family members available to take custody of M&M, bio parents skipped town, hurry up and wait while doing the happy dance.

New Follower

Okay, so I wake up this morning to find egg on my face. Clueless me running on less than optimal sleep made a serious blogger faux pax yesterday. While trying to be efficient, I thoughtlessly linked a new follower to a post involving a particularly unsavory topic. So, in an effort to uncompound my error, I have edited yesterday's post to expunge my new followers information and am placing it here as a stand alone welcome.

So, without further adieu, I would like to extend a slightly embarrassed but very warm and much more appropriate welcome to follower number 61 (according to Blogger at least). Russell J. Collier, Jr. felt compelled to publicly shame himself by throwing his lot in with the rest of us here. Russell, thank you for your comment with your blog information. Russell writes the blog Ungrateful and Insolent and Exhausted. Go give him some love. He was very gracious in pointing out my error.
Russell, again, my humblest apologies.

Another Thing I Will Never Understand

[Insert Name Here] (who I have decided to rename as Wicket...he is the hairiest little tricycle motor I've ever seen) will be going back to his original foster family on Tuesday. As much as it shames me to admit this, neither The Queen nor I can wait for him to go back. While he can be a very sweet little boy, his behavioral issues and our being prevented from properly training him have us pulling our hair out. The only thing that has saved him from having his hide tanned is that it would end any chance we have of getting M&M.

Anybeating, this is about stuff I will never understand not how to retrain a four year old in two weeks or less (note to those interested...it can't be done without means to instill fear of imminent bodily harm).

I have commented here before about my complete lack of understanding when it comes to subjects like homosexuality (I don't condemn those that practice it...I just have no grasp on why it is attractive to some people), the blind optimism of people who think that a politician will keep a promise and why people abuse children.

We can now add child pornography to the list of things I will never comprehend.

Not that I ever considered it appropriate before. Quite the opposite. I would gladly take any opportunity to arrange a meeting between God and a child pornographer. They would have so much to discuss.

Here's the deal. When Wicket came to us 12 days ago, he had a raging rash on his butt. You've heard the phrase "that really chaps my a**." Well, I can tell you what that looks like. As a result of said condition, we have been forced to let Wicket run amok au natural in the castle to allow his butt to heal. After what seems like the four hundredth time of saying, "Cover your penis. No one wants to see it." as Wicket sits on the couch or a chair at the dinner table with his legs spread wide for all heaven and earth to see the glory of his little pee shooter, I can honestly say I will NEVER understand what would possess some demented pervert to WANT to look at that for giggles, grins and sexual gratification.

I'm still looking for suitable brain bleach. I'll take suggestions.

Burning Candles and Other Stuff

...Not necessarily burning other stuff. I just mean that this post will cover other stuff besides burning candles. Sort of. You'll get the idea.

Three years ago yesterday, this little corner of the blogger world was turned loose on an unsuspecting and largely non-existent audience for the first time. Not unlike a blind man tossing a hand grenade, but it was a start. In the three years since, the blind man got a pair of eye glasses, dropped his cane a few times, had Lasix surgery and then stared at the sun too long. Now, he's busy looking for the pin to the live grenade in his hand and wondering if the counting has already gone past three.

I don't have anything special prepared to help celebrate my little blogiversary other than another whirlwind round up of stuff that's happened since last we spoke.

First up, I've been traveling more lately. Like a lot more. I get to spend next week in town all week which will be a refreshing change. The Queen is kinda partial to the idea of me being home for a change too. Seems she wants help with the kids or something. Having my smiling face nearby is a secondary bonus apparently.

On a recent business trip to lovely San Antonio, I had a couple of firsts. On the flight there from Dallas, I had my first experience with "new plane" smell. Southwest Airlines rolled out a brand, spanking new airplane for us. It was literally the first fare carrying flight for this bird which was one of their new WIFI equipped Boeing 737-800s. All that plastic, leather and adhesives off gassing together is pretty intoxicating...in a "when do we land so my headache will go away?" sort of way. Nonetheless, it was a nice plane and felt a who heck of a lot more comfortable than the little American Eagle regional jet that I was shoe horned into earlier in the week.

The next little story comes from the return leg of the San Antonio checking in for my return flight. I was talking with my business associate when a whiff of Hoppe's No. 9 reached out and rudely assaulted my hind brain. A quick search of the area spotted a Glock in a well cared for tan leather holster. The gun and holster were attached to a gentleman in line ahead of us to check in for our flights. Further examination revealed that the gun and holster were attached to a man in his mid to late 50s wearing brown cowboy boots, pressed tan colored denim pants, brown belt, earth toned button down shirt with a black ribbon string tie, a white cookie duster mustache and a huge straw cowboy hat. Did I forget to mention the Texas Ranger badge and handcuffs?

Why do I mention this? Well, for starters, it's rare enough to see a Texas Ranger out in the wild so to speak much less checking in for a flight at the airport since there are only 216 of them by statute. Second, Ranger rocked his Glock with a very tasteful miniature Ranger badge on the magazine floor plate. I'd be willing to give 50/50 odds that his duty issue hollow points have little Ranger badges on them too. You know...so that the bad guys will know that they've been put down hard by a real American bad ass.

I'd also give 100% odds that no one even thought about jacking with his flight. Because he didn't have to check that heater at the counter and wore it proudly through security.

Now, on to the kid update.

First, a little vignette from a phone conversation between The Queen and I five minutes before I had to start a conference call.

Me: Hello?

The Queen: Hi honey. How is your day going?

[lots of pleasantries, idle talk and lead up later]

The Queen: How do you feel about respiting a four year old boy for two weeks?

Me: It's probably not the best idea we've had lately.

The Queen: But he would give Mini Me someone to play with and make things easier on me.

Me: It's your call. You have to decide if you are up to handling another kiddo. I've got to go for my call now.

The Queen: Okay, see you later.

Five Hours Later...walking in the door at Castle Erickson.

The Queen: It's Daddy. Daddy meet [Insert Name Here].

Me: Hi [Insert Name Here].

[Insert Name Here] has a few issues not the least of which is an incomplete grasp on toilet training. He knows how. He just chooses not to. Perhaps more frustrating than that is trying to communicate with him. I am not sure how best to describe it. There really is no frame of reference. If I didn't know better, I'd say hallucinogenic drugs were involved.


So, to recap. Four kids. Two four year old boys. Two infant girls. No sanity.

Mini Me and The Banshee are still here. The Banshee is still a Banshee. Mini Me has had a few adjustment issues with the new boy in the house. Otherwise, situation normal. Their bio momma is continuing her efforts to get her kids back. She just started a new job. She is getting some out patient help for certain issues. All in all, she is working hard. We are guesstimating she will get her kids back sometime in November. Maybe.

That leaves M&M's situation. We are back in limbo waiting on word for the state where bio mom's mom lives to get the home study back to Texas CPS. We did get word that grandma either has or had brain cancer recently. This may or may not be an issue with respect to her home study depending what kind of drugs she is on and what her treatment status and prognosis are.

Last we heard, the next hearing is still set in mid October. Until we hear different, we continue to treat M&M like our own.

Hope all is well with you all. More to follow when I can.

No Greater Love...

Editor's Note: This post was originally published on The GunDivas.

Since Friday when in first heard about the tragedy in Aurora, CO, I have probably started this post four or five times in my head, on the iPad and the laptop. It’s a serious topic, involving real people, suffering real pain inflicted by a mad man for reasons as yet fully unknown. Obviously, I want to avoid being my normal, snarky, smart alecky self.

At first, I started out thinking that I wanted to talk about the need to examine your core beliefs and establish a personal “rules of engagement” if you will for situations like this. That idea arose from a discussion I had with a friend from church Friday afternoon. He asked the question of what I would have done. Heck, I don’t know. I wasn’t there, and I’ve never been in a situation like that before. I would like to think that I would have the faith and strength of character to put myself between the shooter and those around me and use every tool at my disposal to protect them and get them to safety. Some who were there did just that while others did not. I don’t write that as praise or condemnation. It is merely a statement of fact based on reports I’ve heard so far.

I would like to think that I am ready and willing to die trying in the process. No less a person than Jesus Christ Himself said “Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends.” (John 15:13) That’s not exactly Plan A, of course. My preference would be to make the other person die trying, but that’s a discussion for another time.

I thought about getting into a discussion of gun rights versus gun control; but, honestly, that horse has been run over by the cart after dropping dead from a thorough flogging. I am a member of the gun community. I believe in the right to own and bear arms. Not much is going to change that view. Others believe differently and have little interest in what I have to say on the subject. Though, for the record, I think that gun control advocates are kinda like Ray from Ghostbusters trying to choose the form of Gozer the Destructor. Ask Rahm Emanuel and Michael Bloomberg how well they have succeeded at controlling the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.

And here I was trying to avoid snark…I apologize.

So, what DO I really want to say about Friday’s events?

Go love someone.

Anyone. Right now. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Carry a gun. Don’t carry a gun. I don’t care, but go find someone you care about or really like a lot and love on them.

Why am I saying this?

Allow me to give a little back story first. Ever since my wife, The Queen, and I got married, I have gotten up, gotten dressed and left the house for work before she even wakes up (most of the time…there are exceptions). I have always made it a point to give her a kiss as she lies there sleeping and tell her I love her before walking out the door. Anger, sad, or happy, argument or no, I did this because I wanted to make sure that, if anything happened to me, the last thing between us was an act of love.

Until recently. I have gotten out of the habit. There are lots of excuses, but the bottom line is that I have gotten away from doing what is in my heart.

And then I came within about 2 seconds of dying on the way home from work today. A fool in a large, black pickup ran a red light right in front of me. I can’t say for sure how fast he was going, but I would guess at least 40 and probably 50 or more. I believe he was accelerating. He would have hit my comparatively small Nissan Maxima square in the driver’s side had I made the intersection just a second or two earlier. Honestly, I can’t say for certain that I would have died, but I have investigated enough car accidents to know that serious injury and a trip to the hospital was the bare minimum that I would have gotten away with had he hit me at that speed.

It has shaken me to my core that I might not have made it home to my wife and foster kids this evening. Fortunately, I did get to hug and kiss The Queen and baby M&M this morning before I left. The Queen woke up early, and we shared a little three way hug before I had to go.

12 people in that theater Friday morning didn’t get to go home to their families, and at least 50 or 60 others came close to sharing their fate. Those 12 will never be able to love or be loved again (except in memory). They are beyond the cares of this world now. If it were possible to resurrect them right now, my bet is that their one wish and desire would be for more time with their loved ones.

When the dust settles, no one cares about how good or bad we are with a pistol or a rifle. No one cares how many or how few training classes we’ve taken. What they care about and remember most are the times we were there for them, when we hugged them when they needed it most, when we listened to them, shared their joy, their pain and their lives.

Go. Love. Someone. Now.

Randomness

I'm hoping there are still folks out there in the ether seeing this. I've gotten used to the comments, and it'd be a shame to start over whistling in the wind to no one. The excuse/explanation is the same...kids, wife, life. 

Before proceeding with the post, I'd like to welcome the two newest members of the congregation. Maddog of Maddog's Farms and David from Musings Over a Pint decided to check their sanity at the door and swell my ego by hitting the follower button. Welcome both of you. I'd say help yourself to anything in the fridge, but pickin's are slim. I need to go shopping for groceries. 

First in the random, stream of unconsciousness mental musings, I have a question for my Colorado acquaintances: Just what the heck is up with Rich Wyatt at Gunsmoke in Denver? I've been watching American Guns for a while...'cause it's about guns. Duh. But, asking $3000 for a Springfield Armory 1911? Letting your teenage daughter out in public looking like a hooker? Seriously??? Someone needs to explain what he is thinking. More importantly, what are people who pay these prices thinking?

Next up, I present the following...

Here, let me help you get a closer look...

I'm not sure this falls into the crimes against humanity category, but it was definitely distinctive. Also, I didn't get a look at the owner, but I'd be willing to bet that her body had some work done to it as well. Oh, and it had metal flake in the paint. So, it SPARKLED in the sun. Like Edward Cullen. Or so I'm told. 

I saw a guy riding one of those Can Am Spyder's the other day in rush hour traffic with no protective gear whatsoever. Not really abnormal around here. What drew my attention in the first place was the pair of crutches strapped to the back. Okay. I can see that. Then, upon closer inspection, I noted the reason for the crutches....an above the knee leg amputation. Oh. Dear. Lord. You're missing half your leg, and you are going to ride around DFW in traffic with no helmet. Dude, there are easier ways to commit suicide. 

I had to take a day trip to Houston the other day. The client offered to pick me and my senior claims rep up in Dallas...in their corporate jet. I have a photo taken by the iLeash that really does not do it justice. There is a great photo on the net that I don't want to use as it belongs to someone else. Do a search on Cessna Citation CJ2+ on Google. That was my ride for the day. It beats flying commercial with an ugly stick any day. No TSA. No perv-o-scan. No taking shoes off. No cockpit door between me and the view out the front. Hated every minute of it. If you believe that, I have some lovely beach front property for sale that you might be interested in. 

So, the other night, The Queen and I were lounging around after a long, hard battle getting The Banshee to bed. A couple of hippies decided to invade the castle and start talking about how great New York is and other liberal twaddle. The Queen and I looked at them like they were the unwashed heathen that they were. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Then, The Banshee cried out in her sleep. The Queen and I snapped, and it was on like Donkey Kong. They needed killin' is a valid defense here. Of course, we had to eat the evidence anyway. 

They won't be coming around here anymore.

Mini Me has an adult tooth coming in surprisingly enough. Two weeks after surgery. Ain't that something?

The Banshee continues to be a living, breathing testament for birth control. She has her precious moments like last night when we were leaving the restaurant after dinner. She was dead tired. I stroked her cheek. She closed her eyes and looked positively angelic. I stopped stroking. Her eyes popped open. Lather, rinse, repeat a few times. Then, she leaned her head into my hand. It was priceless. In case you are wondering, no, it does not make up for the the screaming and shrieking. 

M&M remains as adorable as ever; however, the roller coaster ride continues. Birth momma's momma has now come out of the woodwork claiming she wants M&M and has wanted her since she was born. Uh huh. I'm buying that. It's REAL convenient that she just happens to surface a couple of weeks after the birth parents find out that their first choice is out of the picture. Where the heck has she been hiding the last eight months? God will have to handle this part too. If He leaves it up to me, things might get messy. I don't want that. It's kinda hard to explain to your daughter why her bio parents vanished from the face of the earth for no apparent reason and keep a straight face. Or so I've been told. 

Other than all that, life continues to treat me better than I deserve. I continue to wake up in the morning. People pay me good money to do what I do. I have a roof over my head and food on the table. I have a wife who loves me despite the fact that I'm a goob. I got blessings a plenty and not much really worth complaining about. 

Here's hoping your life is the same.