A quick update about Major

Today I called a former co-worker, Rhea, who lives on about 10 acres in Rosharon, 1.5 of which is a fenced front yard, and asked her if she wanted to adopt Major. She met Major on Friday and absolutely loved him. She asked her husband, and they agreed to take Major. We are going to take Major out to their place this weekend for a test. Rhea has Doc, a three year old Great Dane mix, three cats, and cows on her land. We will see how Major gets along with Doc and the cats. If all goes well, Major will have a new place to live where he will have another big dog to play with and plenty of room to run. Plus, I will be able to go out to their house when I want to see and play with him. Thanks Rhea, and thanks Dad, for the great idea.

A "Major" decision

For those that do not know, Major is my almost two year old male Boxer. He had been at Rover Oaks, a dog training and day care facility. His previous owner had paid for his stay at Rover Oaks until a suitable owner could be found. I have always liked the idea of a big dog at the house to look after Jen and the kids when I am not home. I visited Rover Oaks a few times and Major (Bourban was his original name) and I hit it off. I brought him home in February.

The only time I had lived with a
big dog was briefly as a child. So, I started reading books and educating myself. I wanted to be a good and responsible big dog owner. I read and highly recommend the books by Cesar Milan of the Dog Whisperer series on tv.

I knew Major was a high energy dog and exercise would help keep him calm. So, every day at least twice a day, Major gets walked or chases a ball until he colapses. I had hoped that this constant activity would help keep him under control in the home.

Unfortunately, this has not always been the case. We have come home on at least 5 occassions to find a house plant completely destroyed and spread thoughout the house. He has also destroyed a few shoes, a book, and random toys. He has knocked Addy and Jen down, chased a pizza delivery boy, and bolted out of the house and ran away from Jen a few times.

But, I love that dog. I love playing with him and walking him. I love wrestling with him and knowing that he will deter anyone from messing with the house. I can not stop smiling when I watch him playing with Cagney.

But, I love Jen more and Major is driving her crazy. That is why I told her earlier tonight to pursue finding another home for Major. He is a beautiful, friendly, and very loving dog. I will miss him terribly. I will weep like a baby when I give him to his lucky new owners. Sometimes you have to make hard decisions. This one was brutal. But, my Dad taught me long ago that family comes first. Jen, I love you and let's find a good home for a good dog.

Mobile Blogging from here.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Respect for Tiger?

It is amazing how quickly another year has gone by. Austin will be going into 3rd grade, Addy is 3, and I have been with HPD just a couple months short of 10 years. Last year, we were in Biloxi for a few days on our way home from a great week at Walt Disney World. We were watching the fourth round of the US Open at Torrey Pines. Dad was rooting for Rocco. I was rooting for Tiger. This year, I am still rooting for Tiger, and Dad is rooting for anyone but Tiger.

Yesterday, I was able to enjoy one of my favorite activities. Playing golf with my Dad. We have played countless rounds together. Yesterday's round was a struggle for my Dad. He recently injured his knee. That knee injury added some perspective to the round for me. I take it for granted that we are able to play golf together. We will not always be able to do so, and I need to keep that in mind. I need to enjoy it more and gleam whatever I can from the experience. I need to appreciate the journey and not worry about the score.

Back to Tiger. On the 16th tee yesterday, I mentioned that Dad's wincing in pain after a few shots reminded me of Tiger during last year's Open which he won with a knee injury. As Dad limped away, he responded with "I do not know how in the hell he did that". That made me smile, Dad begrudgingly giving Tiger some props. Another memorable moment from golf with my Dad.

Hello. My name is Rusty, and I am a nerd.

The first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem. Recently, I have come to realize that I am a nerd. You might be asking yourselves, how do you know? What are the warning signs? How can I avoid becoming a nerd? As you would expect, my wife was the first to notice what was happening. One evening I was playing Halo 3 online with my cousin Mike (sorry bro, you are a nerd as well). I had on the headset that comes with the controller. The headset is used to communicate with your playing partners that are in other locations. Jen walked into the room and started laughing. Not just a chuckle, but reacting to the best Dane Cook stand up comedy you have ever seen, laughing. When she recovered, she looked at me and said "You are a nerd". I thought she was crazy, but then I imagined the scene from her point of view. Here was a nearly 40 year old male sitting in front of a TV with a video game controller in his hands and a headset on his head talking to his cousin who was at his house wearing an identical headset. Not a pretty picture.

So, I began to think about my life to determine if Jen was indeed correct. She usually is, but I had to see this for myself. What I found was worrisome to say the least. I love technology. I listen to podcasts and audio books. When I read books, it is on my iPhone. I would be lost without my RSS feeds and Google Reader. Recently, I watched the bootleg live video stream of the keynote address from Apple's WWDC. Then I watched the official Apple version of the same keynote. I pre-ordered the new iPhone 3G S. I am jonesing for a new Macbook Pro. When Mike and I talk, it is processor this and RAM that, with a little network or syncing thrown in. I drive a hybrid, and I like it.

After that introspection, it seems that my wife hit the nail on the head. Back to that night, after she called me a nerd, I told her that she was the one that agreed to marry me. She responded with, "You were not a nerd then".

So, nerds everywhere, there is hope. Dress well, act cool, be polite, get the beautiful girl to marry you, and then put on the headset!

I'm Back

Mobile Blogging from here.

Hello again everyone. It has been 8 months since I have written. It is amazing how easy it was to get out of the habit of writing. Disappointing because I enjoy expressing my thoughts this way. Many times I thought of getting back to writing. Today I did and hopefully I am able to stick with it this time. As a helper, I found an iPhone application that makes posting to the blog very easy. And I am never very far from my iPhone.

For everyone's information, this blog goes out through email to family and a few friends as well as being posted at will7079.blogspot.com. I have two goals in mind for the blog. One is to have an outlet for my thoughts and periodic musings and the other is to keep everyone up to date with the goings on of Jen, myself, and our kids. I will try to keep posts moderate in length as I know everyone is busy. I have one request for the readers, please post your thoughts and comments on the blog. Feedback would be cool and greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]

Dinner in the zoo

Jen and I try to get away for a weekend trip at least once a year without the children. We are fortunate enough to have family members nearby that enjoy taking care of and then giving back our children. This year we planned a getaway weekend to Austin and invited some of our best friends, Terry and Mary to join us. On a Thursday, we all loaded up in the Suburban and headed northwest to Austin.

We all started to get hungry once we left I-10 and made the turn onto Highway 71. I remembered eating at a good Mexican food place somewhere between LaGrange and Bastrop. As we were clipping along at or about the speed limit, I saw the sign for La Cabana and asked everyone if Mexican food sounded good. No one had an opinion, so Mexican food it was. I put the Suburban into a controlled power slide, made a quick u-turn and landed safely in the La Cabana parking lot.

To enter the restaurant, there are two doors. We selected the door on the right. We entered into a small rectangular shaped room with a few tables and booths. Upon entering, everyone inside looked toward the door, which seemed normal for a restaurant. We did not see a hostess stand, nor a sign that said "seat yourself". So, we stood around for a minute, and then one of the many kind waitresses approached us. In a strong country slang that was barely discernible as English, she asked if we wanted to sit in the smoking section, which was to our left and approximately the size of a large barn, or the small non-smoking section which we were currently standing in. We chose a booth in the non-cancer causing section.

A different waitress came to our table and in as friendly a way as possible, took our drink orders and then fetched us some of the best chips and salsa that we had ever eaten. A few minutes after we sat down, the door opened again and children began walking in. Not 1, not 2, not Jon and Kate + 8 either, but a bunch of kids followed by what appeared to be grandma and dad came in and sat down at a nearby table. I think I heard grandma call the kids Ricky, Dale, Jeff, Ernie, and Jimmy. Like true southerners, the kids were named after Dad's favorite NASCAR drivers. At least they were not called the #8, #24, #88, or Bud, Dupont, or Mountain Dew.

The rest of dinner was uneventful, except we ate at least 10 baskets of chips and 20 bowls of salsa, good stuff I tell you. We went up to the register to pay and that was when we all received confirmation of what we had been feeling the entire time. Everyone in the place was watching our every move. At least three of the waitresses along with almost all of the patrons eating in the cancer barn section of the restaurant were just openly staring at us as we paid our check. Now I realize that the four of us are all good looking people. But this was not the "wow, he/she is hot" quick look and then casually glance back a few times. This was "WOW, I have never seen a one-eyed, bearded, 8 foot tall lady with three arms and 4 legs" STARE! It actually made me self conscious, which is incredibly hard to do. I began to wonder if something was amiss, I began the mental checklist: hair/nose/teeth/is my pistol showing/zipper. I did a quick check and everything was fine. I checked the others and they all were in order. Then it hit me, we are city folk, outsiders, non-locals. I would venture to guess that everyone in the restaurant knew everyone else's name except for ours.

The experience instantly reminded me of going to the zoo.

Everyone crowds around the lion exhibit when they are active to see what they are going to do. Why? Because we do not live in the semi-arid plains and Savannah grasslands within the southern areas of the African continent where the lions live naturally. We do not see lions on a day to day basis. So, at the zoo we press our noses to the scarred plexiglas and watch.

In Smithville, the home of La Cabana, they do not see big city dwellers daily. So, when city folk stop in town, everyone stops to watch.

Photo courtesy of Valerie Renee on Flickr

Hurricane Ike (the event)

The department ordered us in to work on Friday at 1400 hours, or 2 PM. We were told that we would be working through our regular shift which is 2200-0600, or 10 PM to 6 AM. They added a qualifier that in order to leave, we had to be relieved by a day shift officer. The storm was scheduled to come ashore at about 1 AM in Galveston, so 6 AM in Houston would be in the middle of the hurricane. None of us thought that we would be going home on time and many thought that we probably could not make it home anyway.

At roll call, after the Captain spoke for eons, a fellow beat officer told all of the 1A20 beat officers that he had a key to Langford's Grocery, which is a small restaurant located in the beat. He told us to meet over there a little later and that we would cook some burgers. Over the course of the two weeks of the hurricane Ike mobilization, we spent a lot of time at Langfords.

We were all told to find a safe place to "hunker down" once the storm rolled into Houston. We were also told that once winds reached a sustained 50 mph, we were to head to our spots to ride out the storm. Calls would not be dispatched until the winds slowed and it was safe for us to respond.

A few hours after roll call, I had to drive down to south to fill the patrol car with gas. The department was worried that the underground gas tanks at a southern station were going to be flooded and ruin the gasoline. On the way to the station, I went down to my parent's neighborhood which is just north of the Galveston causeway. The water was already very high. The exit for their neighborhood was under water and the water was already out of the canals and rising. The water was white capping and starting to blow sideways. There were only a hand full of other vehicles on the freeway, mainly news people and law enforcement. I took a few pictures and then headed back north.

Our "hunker down" spot was Bobby's apartment complex parking garage. He lives in some nice new apartments that are close to the station. At about 2200 hours, we made our way to the apartment complex. The winds were really starting to pick up and there were no calls for service. We got out the DVD player and watched a movie on the 50 inch plasma in the work out area of the apartment complex. While we were watching the movie, we were notified by someone that lives in the apartments, that someone was stuck in one of the complex's elevators. We found the broken elevator and attempted to open the stuck doors. In the movies it appears that you can grab the doors and pull and they will open if enough force in applied. Not the case in real life, at least not with this elevator. Luckily for the stranded people, the fire department arrived and they have keys that unlock the doors. They unlocked the doors, pulled them open, and the people climbed out. We concluded that the fire department gets all of the cool equipment. We returned to the work out area a little humbled by the elevator and finished the movie.

At about 0300 hours, we all headed out to the parking garage to watch the hurricane. By this time the sustained winds in the downtown area were reported to be in the 80 mph range. We watched transformer after transformer blow up. They give off a green light when they explode. A few caught on fire, but the sideways rains quickly extinguished the flames. At 0500 hours, the power at the apartment complex finally went out. It had flickered on and off for hours.

If you are still reading, you are in for a treat. At 0600 hours, some day shift units actually made it in to work and we could hear them getting in service over the radio. Pedro decided that he was going to try to make it back to the station. He asked for my opinion, and I told him to wait. While we were very close to the station, every route had the potential for high water. Pedro decided to try to make it anyway. He threw his rookie in the car and took off. About 10 minutes later, Bobby's phone rings, it is Pedro. He told Bobby that he had driven into some high water and was now stuck. The car shut off and would not start. Pedro told Bobby to ask me what to do. I got on the phone and called our dispatcher. I asked her if the city wreckers were running. Pedro was stuck less than 1000 yards from our station under the Memorial bridge off of I-45. We found out later that the wreckers were not running during the storm . While I was speaking to our dispatcher, a supervisor gets on the radio and states that there is an officer in distress stuck in high water. The dispatcher asks for a unit to check by with him, and Bobby and myself volunteer.

Upon reaching where Pedro was flooded, I observed that he was stuck directly over Buffalo Bayou. The bayou was rising and that is what was flooding the roadway. I decided that the water appeared passable and I drove out to get Pedro and his rookie. I reached them and they jumped into the backseat. Pedro began pleading with me to back up stating that the water was deeper the further that you went. I quickly surveyed the water and once again thought it was passable. As I began to continue driving through the water, Pedro was in the back seat yelling like some crazy crackhead that we were going to get stuck. I calmly continued and dropped Pedro and the rookie off at the station a few minutes later. Pedro was dumbfounded. He could not believe I had just driven through what he got stuck in. I told him that the water was in fact deeper now, as the bayou continued to rise. This fact did not make him feel any better.

Upon returning to the stuck car, Bobby and I watched as the bayou continued to rise. As the water reached about mid way up the car, the lights on the car began to flash. I think that car was screaming at Pedro as it succumbed to the rising water. After about an hour, the car was gone. We ended up getting back to the station at 1100 AM on Saturday, 21 hours after the start of our shift. We were due back at the station at 2000 hours or 8 PM for our first 12 hour shift of hurricane Ike mobilization.