Different Level of Eww

Apparently I am in the mood for remakes. So, I cry pardon for the slightly skewed content.

The past few months have been trying. Most days I come home and just about crawl right into bed. With that comes flashbacks of when I quit previous jobs. Most notably when I quit my position as Deputy Sheriff.

I have been trying to avoid blogging with a whining undertone, but I find it impossible to avoid any longer.

Caseloads are rising to impossible levels. Days are spent either typing warrants, serving warrants, fighting with Supervisors as why a warrant has to be issued, or taking 70 - 80 reports on any given report day.

The silver lining is that our agency managed to scrap together enough money to hire a replacement for the 20 plus people that have left since I have been at this office. That is correct they hired one person. A person that will have to complete the Criminal Justice Academy before they are ready to take on a caseload. Our Agency track record within the CJA is not exactly stellar and we do not hold much hope for the new hire.

Most of the Women that are stationed in Cubicles around the New Hire give the cold shoulder. A defence mechanism derived from years of disappointment. Everyone wants to welcome the New Hire in, but we all know that it is a 50/50 shot that they will make it back from the Academy. If they do, Hazzah, everyone rejoices. If they do not, they are sent west to look for other employment.

Meanwhile, the office scuttlebutt is in full swing. Every thing is talked about, from the State wide possibilities that our Agency might be forced into the same money grubbing sink hole that is the South Carolina Department of Corrections, to lay offs, to furloughs. Then there are the Office wide possibilities of pooling caseloads. Casey, you got out just in time.

At the moment these are only rumors. If they become more, I will discuss them in further detail.

With so much going on it was interesting that Work Mom chose now to bring up the subject of my love life. In an office dominated by Women it is hard to avoid the Subject. Most of the Women in my office, I would imagine, either view me as a Son or Brother. Most notably Work Mom, hence the name. I have known for some time that these particular Women had taken it upon themselves to find me that perfect woman.

Work Mom has always toyed with the idea of me hooking up with her younger Sister, who apparently has taken a similar interest in not dating. I am not entirely sure why Work Mom has this fascination, since I have always managed to get under her skin in one way or another. But, obviously this a top level requirement in a Brother-in-Law.

She even managed to get us to meet. Having her sister drop her off at the office for the Sex Offender checks Halloween night. It was a brief conversation of, "Hi, Nice to meet you, heard a lot about you, I'm going to go ruin a Pedophile's night now, bye." Obviously that made quite the impression.

A month later and another Holiday behind us, Work Mom comes to my desk with a sticky note. This sticky note has a name and phone number on it. That of her Sister. She hands me the note and says, "I think my sister would like for you to give her a call sometime." The only thought to come to my mind is a question, "You think or she said?" She rolled her eyes and replied, "She said." Before I could reply she was called away.

Now, here is where my mind went somewhere it should not have. Considering the fact that I view this lady as my Work Mom and she basically told me to go on a date with her Sister...do I really have to spell it out. Oedipus Rex it is not (Praise God, finding the Acid for an Acid bath these days is hard), but why my mind would go there is a little disturbing. It probably went into that gutter as some measure of stress relief, but how that is possible by causing more stress is beyond me.

At this point I am weighing my options (procrastination by any other name), but more information is needed. But, again as things develop you all will be among those to know.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Invasion

Anyone who has read this blog about a year ago has seen this issue come up before. The issue, Creepy Crawlies and Female Agents who do not like them.

As of late our Government building has been inundated with a not so small arthropod called the millipede. Given the alternative I would rather have the millipede than his not so friendly cousin the centipede. Since, centipedes are carnivorous and (depending on the species) can have a nasty bite. The millipede on the other hand is herbivorous and would like nothing more than to be left alone.

So far this week, I know I have come running to the sound of shrieks, squeals, and the caterwaul of my name, at least two to three times a day, because of this "bug".

At first I thought it was funny and tried to simple explain that it is not dangerous or gross unless you scare them (some species have a...smelly defense), therefore unnecessary to squeal or scream. This done while wrangling the little fellow into an empty trash can and whisking him away to the outside world.

However, I soon realized that the speeches were not doing any good, when I found one of the Female Agents in question, crouching in her $300 office chair. The offending millipede was taken out on one of the files that the Female Agent had thrown at him.

In another instance, I was taking reports when I heard my named bellowed by Agent M (who never bellows). I ran out of the reporting area to where she was and for my trouble was met with laughter. "Wow, I didn't expect you to come running" was her explanation. I then asked what the issue was and she pointed at the wall behind me. At first I did not see anything until a speck moved.

It was in fact a 1/4 inch cockroach. I grabbed a nearby magazine and smote it. I apparently hit the little guy with more force than I needed to, since his insides (and the ink from the cover of the magazine) are now permanently emblazoned on the wall. A few seconds later Casey came rushing around the corner, having mistaken the loud Whap for something more sinister.

Finally, there was also another incident involving George the cockroach. Unfortunately, for George I was out on Home Visits with Casey at the time. According to Work Mom (and everyone else in the reporting area) she was taking a report, when out of nowhere George appears on her desk. Work Mom (and the offender) freaked out and began screaming.

Agent W, who has a clear line of sight from her report day cube to that of Work Mom, rushed over and saw George and also freaked. However, Agent W is not exactly like the other women in the office. While the other women were freaking out, Agent W went and got a broom several rooms away and went back.

The ensuing battle was apparently epic, resulting in a victorious Agent W, a destroyed broom, and the death of George. Agent W later told me after everyone left, "I broke the F%&#er in six pieces and he was still crawin' away! But, I got'em!" I then recounted my previous experience with George and she said, "Well F%&#! If you had takin' care of business then, we wouldn't have had to deal this S%&# today! What the F%&# is the matter with you?!" She then stomped away.

Moving from work to home, my attic has apparently been invaded by an unknown rodent. Having been woken last night to a scratching noise that I later found to be coming from the attic door in the ceiling. Having just finished watching Signs by M. Night Shyamalan a few hours earlier and being half asleep, I was not taking any chances. I grabbed my Glock and sprang from my bed. It was easy to find where the noise was coming from since the house cats were all in the hallway staring intently at the attic door.

After clearing the rest of the house (keeping an eye on the attic door) I cleared the attic. However, there is so much stuff up there, that a family of raccoons could be up there and I would not know it. I guess I will have to procure and or build some traps to capture these interlopers.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Coming to a middle

I cry your pardon for this taking so long, however, I have been attempting to finish "The Wedding" post. It for some reason has become a saga that I cannot finish. At this point it will just have to wait until a later time.

There is much to post about. Since June 15th I have done much. Since my last post I have become one of the hundreds of thousands of people to learn how to breath underwater. Unfortunately or fortunately (however you may want to view it) I was not a part of a Mad Scientists experiment to give humans gills. I took several classes and became certified as a Open Water Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus (SCUBA) Diver.

Just for the record, I have always loved the water. I cannot remember a Summer (and sometimes a winter) when I have not gone swimming. I am no Olympic Swimmer by any stretch of the imagination, but I am more than just comfortable in the water. So, SCUBA was not that far of a stretch for me. I have always wanted to do it and it only took a slight nudge in the right direction for it to become a reality.

If some of you will recall there was another Wedding post last year were my Step-sister got hitched. During her honeymoon, her husband went SCUBA diving. Only a couple of dives but enough to get hooked on it. Upon their return, he started recalling the experience and said that he would like to get certified. However, he did not want to do so alone. Not even a heartbeats wait and I told him that I would more than happy to go with him. And that is how the journey began.

So, far I only have 8 dives outside the training dives, but, they were awesome. Nothing more than a few hours in a local lake, with a visibility of a little over 8 feet (for South Carolina anything over your hand in front of your face is epic), a few trout, a snapping turtle, a forest, and a sunken boat. But it was enough to get me hooked. And I would suggest it to anyone.

I also went on my first date. I will wait a minute and let that sink in.......You heard true, my first date. It was nothing spectacular or anything, but I learned (again) that woman will not rip your heart out and eat it if you ask them out. And every once in a while, they say yes. Also, for the record there was no second date. There was a mutual agreement of zero chemistry.

And now to the point of this post. We went to trial today. When I say we, I mean the woman that caused the wreck and the Ladies (Officer M, Agent L, and Agent S). I was not subpoenaed as a witness or anything, I was just there for moral support.

A couple of months after the wreck, they received notification that the case was going to a Jury Trial. A month or two ago the case was supposed to be heard, but the defence attorney conveniently had a General Sessions case that took precedence over this meager Magistrate level case.

Today it went forward. It was interesting to watch such a simple case get muddied with emotions (mine included). It was also interesting to see the difference between Law Enforcement in court and the average Joe in court.

The Trial started at 1600 hrs sharp. However, the Ladies (and families), Marshall #2, and myself were there well ahead of time, and dressed for court (suits and nooses for the men and conservative dresses for the Ladies). The defendant, her family, and her "witness" arrived about 5 minutes early. The defendant was the only one dressed for court. The rest of her entourage arrived in street clothes.

After the ladies had their necessary pretrial talk with the Assistant Solicitor (Assistant District Attorney for you all not in South Carolina), we were all asked to find a seat in the Court Room. Again, as stated earlier the jury trail began at 1600 hrs sharp.

Opening arguments were uninteresting compared to those that are generally heard during a General Sessions hearing, but both Attorneys got their point across. The first witness called was the Investigating Highway Patrolman. He looked about Twelve, but spoke with the authority and knowledge of any experienced Law Officer. He laid out the facts in a simple and plain manor. Considering those involved, i.e. Officers, I found the investigation...lacking (Not because they are my friends, but because of all the civil issues that could arise from such a collision), but not to the fault of the Patrolman.

Evidently, his Superiors made a judgement call as to whether or not to bring out all the fancy CSI gear that everyone was so expecting. Upon hearing that the only charges were going to be "Failure to Yield Right of Way" with no fatalities involved, the Superior advised that the given statements (from those involved and witnesses) would be enough to make the charge.

Upon hearing this, the Defense jumped all over the Patrolman, trying to get him to admit that the investigation was done improperly. Bait attempt after bait attempt failed to the point of actually helping the State.

After the Patrolman my friends were paraded up onto the stand and all spoke of what they saw that day. The Defence did not cross examine any of the Ladies, I do not know why exactly. Perhaps it was because he knew that any attempt to trip them up would fail horribly, due to past experience or out of respect for what they went through. But, I was impressed that he did not question them.

With the State resting, the true Circus began. If I had not been there I would not believe that what I saw happened, but it did.

The first witness for the Defense was the Son of the Defendant. His only purpose was to enter evidence, multiple pictures of the car that the Defendant was driving and a printed map of the intersection from Google Maps with street view. The State objected, mostly at the adamant behest of the Ladies. The grounds...the State did not provide any pictures during their case. I will not go into why this is just stupid, only that half an hour passed before the objection was overruled. And know that most of the argument from the State was from the Ladies, not from the Solicitor. Half the time the Judge was practically begging the Solicitor to give him a sound argument. But none came and the pictures were allowed.

The next witness was called and he told what he saw. He was on a side street looking the intersection and red light, saw the Defendant pull out cautiously to turn, tires squealed, and cars collided. Simple right...wrong. By the time the Solicitor got done cross-examining him, he did not know up from down, and they were simple clarification questions using the very map the Defense provided.

Here I really must credit the Judge for his patience, because at this point everyone in the audience (myself included) was trying to correct this "witness", and not quietly. In any other courtroom, every single one of us would have been held in contempt and bared from the court...forever. This Judge only looked at us and we became quiet.

Next, was the Defendant, whose testimony was straight forward, "I had the arrow." She did not move on that statement.

Then there was the closing arguments, more objections from both sides during both arguments, before the Jury was charged with what they were to find and they were sent to deliberate. After what felt like an hour or more the Jury came back with a Guilty verdict. The sentence for all the heartache and trouble caused by such an emotionally charged trial...$155 fine.

Not unexpected, it was only a Failure to Yield Right of Way charge and the Judge took into consideration the fact that the Defendant had a squeaky clean driving record (maximum fine is $250 something I believe). Court was then adjourned.

We walked slowly to our vehicles. The Ladies were emotionally drained. Little was spoken. What conversation there was, centered around our actions in court. We all know better than to speak out in court, but for a group of people not used to giving up control it was understandable...not justifiable by any means.

The Ladies thanked me for being there. Before we went our seperate ways, I made the statement that I was glad that it was finally over and done. Agent L reminded me that this was only the middle for her. That many years still lay ahead in her road to recovery and mayhap a civil suit or two.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

A Year

Hard to believe I know, but one year ago, I began Chronicling my "adventures". A lot has changed in the past year, but mostly, things have just stayed the same. As they always seem to do.

After 35 posts and a lot of heart felt words put in an open forum for all to see, not much has changed. Sure, I am a little heavier, a little more scarred (both mentally and physically), and hopefully a little wiser.

10 things that I have learned in the past year:

1) Always wear a seat belt. Seat belts saved the lives of 4 of my colleagues. Before the wreck, if I was in a Crown Victoria or on a warrant team, it would be a rare occasion that I would actually wear this important piece of safety equipment. Due to the fact that it hampered my ability to "jump out". Now, I realize that getting to the location is half the battle.

2) Judges are not as scary as I once thought. Just because they hold sway over the lives of a lot of people. Does not mean they are out to get me. There are a lot of other things to be concerned with.

3) Friends are hard to come by. As Agent L learned the hard way, just because people work with you does not mean they are your friends. People who say they will go to the ends of the Earth for you during the good times, often find better things to do when you actually need their help. Even if all that is, is an encouraging word or a visit when one is lonely.

4) Do not waist a chance to get out of Dodge. Some opportunities only come around once in a life time. Just because things might get better, does not mean that they will, and does not mean that you should stick around just to see what happens. If the chance for something better comes a long, take it. You might not get another chance.

5) Women...despite the fact that I work closely with a multitude of Women (and have done so for most of my working life) I still know more about Particle Physics and what happens to stuff that gets sucked into a Black Hole, than I know about Women. Despite this, they are not as scary as I thought. Just like with Judges, what is the worst that can happen.

6) Always assume the dog has more chain. I believe this is self explanatory.

7) If I find myself in a position where a part of my body is involuntarily in the mouth of an unfamiliar Animal, hence forth, said Animal shall be rendered harmless by any means necessary. Questions, will be reserved for a later time.

8) Rabies and Rabies shots. Thankfully, I already knew a lot about the Rabies Virus. This is mostly due to a research project in College. However, I learned that the Rabies shots are not as bad as they used to be. They are by no means a picnic, especially for somone who does not like the sharp pointy things. Also, if you are in South Carolina, and in need of the first set of shots in a hurry, call your local Emergency Rooms. They are the most likely to have a stock of the First Series of shots on hand. Anyone else, including DHEC, will have to order them.

9) Do not trust a Government Agency to have your best interests in mind. Unless you watch them closely they will try and do as little as possible. You would think that I would know this, having worked in the Executive Branch most of my life. But, I am told that I can be quite stubborn.

10) God is good..all the time.

Agent L is still going through a rough time, a year after the accident and they are just now starting to work on her teeth. She will have months of Orthodontics, before they start working on the rest her.

Agent S is two weeks away from returning to work after having a healthy baby boy. However, her recovery had to be halted due to her pregnancy, and should resume if it has not already.

I am back to full duty. Extraditions from Maximum Security Institutions are already in the works. I receive my final Rabies vaccination this Friday and the real battle begins.

I pray that I am here next year and still typing on this blog, and I pray that more progress has been made.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

A Wedding Tale: Reaction

After nineteen minutes of driving, I arrived at the church. Of course the Rehearsal was already over, but the Rehearsal dinner was still going on. I attempted to slip in quietly. However, my best friend, the Groom, is not one to let that happen.

As soon as he saw me coming through the door, he started barking and howling, and every other male there followed suit. After making my bows, the Groom came up to greet me. "How's my Best Man feeling? I hear those shots are rough." He said as he slaped my left shoulder, finding the exact spot where the RIG was injected. I grimaced and tried to reply, "Not much pain, unless you slap my shoulders and hips. Other than the sudden craving for some raw meat, I'm good." "Glad to hear it. The Maid of Honor looked rather lonely walking herself down the Isle." He said as his soon to be Wife found her way to me. "Here," she said as she handed me her Wedding band. "Do Not loose this." I held out my hand and said, "I shall protect it until my dying breath." And before I knew it she had wrapped her arms around my neck in a hug, "I'm glad you're okay."

After she finished hugging me and I thwarted an attempt from the Groom at poking the RIG injection site (which would continue through out the night), I said, "Now, where's this lonely Maid of Honor I've heard so much about?" I was quickly ushered to a young and attractive lady who shook my hand, "You are okay to walk me down the Isle tomorrow, right?" I replied, "I believe I can manage to walk a beautiful lady down the Isle." "Good. But if you try to bite me I'll have to put you down." "You promise?" "Promise."

More introductions were made. Eventually I was allowed time to eat and tell everyone what happened. Once I was finished we had to clean up and make sure the room was as it was before everyone arrived.

While I was putting up chairs, I noticed that my left eye was starting to itch, a lot. At first I just dismissed it as something in my eye. But, before we finished putting the tables and chairs up, I could tell that my eye was starting to swell. It quickly swelled to the usual level.

Unfortunately, once all the tables and chairs were put away, we had to go set up the area where the reception would be. More unfortunate still, I was assigned to help the Maid of Honor. About half way through she finally asked, "So...what's the matter with your eye?" "Oh that? I'm just trying to imitate Will Smith in Hitch." She only shook her head and kept going.

Once we finished the Groom and the rest of the Groomsmen came over to find out what we were going to do for the rest of the evening. While the Maid of Honor went back to the female flock on the other side of the reception hall. Once the Groom saw my eye he shouted, "Jesus! What is that?!" I heard the Bride ask, "What!? What is it?" He quickly recovered and shouted back, "Nothing Honey. Nothing to worry about." The said to me, "Dude, what's wrong with your eye?" I told him that it had to be an allergic reaction to the shots. "We can't let her see you like that. We have to fix it...and in less than sixteen hours." One of the Groomsmen said, "All he needs is some Benadryl. It'll be down before tomorrow morning." "Great, we need to get it now. Honey, we're gone."

After they got finished saying their goodbyes we were off to find the nearest Grocery Store. Once there I found the Benadryl Liquigels and went ahead and took four. Of course when we got to the register the Cashier pointed out that the box was open. When I did not respond he looked up at me and saw my eye. "Ah...I guess you opened it then." I shook my head and paid. Over the course of the night my eye eventually returned to an almost normal size.

I am not sure if it was luck or divine intervention that I stayed awake longer than the Groom after taking four pills. Of course it could have been the non stop caffeine intake at the pool hall. Just so you all know my job since the start of the dinner was to make sure that the Groom did not get too drunk, the other Groomsmen as well. So, it was not just that I needed to stay awake, my survival depended on it. If I fell asleep on the job and they got plastered, I am fairly certain that the Bride would have put me down herself. She is half my size and weight, but when she says something, she means business. So, the limit on beers from the start was two.

She also said that I was to make sure that we all went to sleep at a reasonable hour. She should have told us to go to bed early. With us not having to wake up until around 0900 hrs, I took a reasonable hours as somewhere around 0300 hrs.

So, at 0200 hrs I told everyone to head home and to get some much needed sleep. The Groom slept at my place due to the fact that he now lives in a different county.

At this point I was just thankful to be going to sleep after a stupidly long day and another one to come.

To Be Continued.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

A Wedding Tale

Okay, it has been 30 days since the incident and a lot has happened in that time period. As you all know 30 days ago I was bitten by a one to two year old Pitt Bull. Well at the time of the incident, I was told by Animal Control that the Animal in question would be quarantined for 10 days. Silly me believed that since Animal Control placed the quarantine, that they would be the ones that checked the animal to make sure that it did not have Rabies. No one ever stated any different.

Anyway, weeks go by and I see the Animal Control officer often in the mornings at the canteen. He never mentioned anything about the animal having Rabies, so I believed everything was fine. Then I asked him how the hearing went and he simply stated that the owner paid the $185 fine for not having the vaccination tags on the animal. He further stated that she said at the hearing that she did not believe that the animal needed the Rabies vaccine until it became a year old.

So, now I start getting that weird feeling down in my gut and asked if the animal showed any signs of Rabies after the quarantine. He said, "Oh, we don't check the animal. We just place them in quarantine and DHEC (Department of Health and Environmental Control)actually does the check." I then told him that I never heard anything from DHEC and wanted their number to contact them. He obliged.

Once back in the office I call the number that the officer gave me and get a Voice mail for Rabies Control Center for this jurisdiction. I left my contact information and why I was calling as per the instructions. I then called my Claim Representative to see what my options were to get the Rabies Vaccine and found that she would be out of the office until the 10th. I asked to speak with another Representative and was transferred to the first Representative available. We will call her Susan.

I spoke with Susan for several minutes about what we needed to do and she seemed very eager to help me with my problem. Also, a new thing that I was not used to, she wanted the contact information for DHEC. She though they would be a little more forthcoming with the information we needed if we both called. Well after several phone calls and still no answer at the DHEC RCC, I called Susan back and asked her if she had heard anything. She told me that she had no luck with DHEC and called Animal Control to see if there was a different number or any other way to contact them. That was a dead end. At that point it was the end of the day and I went home.

Early the next morning I got a phone call from "Bob" at DHEC RCC. Bob and I spoke for about 20 minutes. The gist of the conversation was that DHEC had no record of the incident and started off by saying that the animal would have to quarantined and we would wait 10 days and check the animal. I told him that it was a little late for that because it has been 28 days since the incident. I told him that I would just go and do their check for them and see if the animal was still there. If he was, there was no threat of Rabies, if he is not there then we have issues. I then asked why there was no record of the bite when Animal control and the ER had to turn in the reports. He said that he did not know the answer to that and would have to get back to me after I did the check.

Once I got off the phone I informed my Supervisor of what was going on and was told to take "Work mom" and Agent A along for the check. I drove to the location of the Incident and soon as I got there, I noticed that the Animal that bit me was not there. This time I stayed with the car and blew the Air Horn until I got a response from the house. In the mean time Agent A pointed out that all the Animals are now on chains and that one of them is foaming at the mouth. I took a look see and noted that it was the little six month old that A) tried to eat my leg, and B) was so ecstatic about company that it tried to jump through the fence.

This little puppy was laying in the grass and would only raise her head enough to wipe the foam from her mouth. Every other dog in the yard was going nuts, barking, running back and forth on their chains, but not this girl. Agent A and Work Mom did their best to get the puppy to at least get up, but could get nothing more than a disoriented glance between wipes.

We immediately called Animal Control and informed them of what was going on and they told us that they would be out there in one to two hours. Mean while the owner came out (in her pajamas again) and promptly asked what I was doing there. That she paid her ticket and the case was done. I advised her that I was out doing the check that DHEC should have done and asked where the animal that bit me was. She promptly pointed at the puppy that was foaming at the mouth, "That's her right there." I called her out on her lie and asked her again where the animal was that bit me, this time describing the animal. She told me that I was mistaken that she had never had such a pit bull and that the only animal that bit me was the one she had already pointed out.

I then asked her what was wrong with the puppy and she said, "Nothings wrong with her. She has allergies. She gets them every year." I said, "Really, and how many years has she seen?" "She's just shy of a year." Then Work Mom pipes in, "Then how the F*&% do you know if it seasonal allergies?! Lady you need to cut the Bull S%&# and tell us what happened to the other dog. Cause if that dog had Rabies then this man needs to get the medicine!" "Lady, if I were him and some strange dog bit me, I would have already gotten the medicine instead of waiting this long."

"Okay," I said, "I don't have time for this. Animal Control is coming out here to take a look at that puppy that obviously has Rabies. I suggest you come up with a better story than Allergies before they get here."

We then left and headed back to the office, where I updated DHEC (well left another message on their machine) and Susan. Susan said that she would get the paperwork started to get the Rabies series done before the close of business. Half an hour later I got a call from Bob at DHEC and relayed what happened. He advised that even though all that was going on, that I had a very low probability of actually having Rabies. But, seeings how we cannot prove one way or the other that the Animal that bit me had Rabies, and the one that she claims bit me now has Rabies, it was best that I go ahead and get the shots.

I then asked Bob what happened to the original report and he said that they ripped that office apart looking for that report, but did not find it. He said that they never received it. That Animal control nor the ER sent the report, and must have thought that that the other sent it. He said that that tends to happen, but if they do not get the report that there is nothing that they can do. Other than remind those agencies, again, that they have to send the reports reguardless of what they believe the other agency is doing.

So, to hurry this story along, while Susan was working through the Red tape of making sure that I did not end up with a $7,000 bill for these shots. I spent my work day trying to find a hospital or doctor office that kept the first series of shots in stock. In the end, only one hospital within my jurisdiction keeps the first series of shots in stock. Apparently, the shots are so expensive and rarely used now that they have to be ordered. Even DHEC RCC does not keep them in stock. Besides, there is usually no Emergency rush to have it now. So, in order to get the shots, I would have to go through the ER, again.

I went to the ER, this time the ER that was not my first choice, and spoke with a security guard who was manning the metal detector (a security measure that I was not expecting). I pulled out my ID and badge and told him I have weapons on me. Yes, plural. Since my supervisor took my service weapon due to me being on light duty, I carry my concealable weapons. He told me to leave all weapons in my vehicle since I was being admitted.

I was surprised at the fact that I barely got through the Triage before they pulled me back. The nice Nurse put me in a 6 by 8 room with no bed. At first she seemed confused as to why no one was in the room and triple checked the fact that no one was supposed to be there. Once she got it straightened out that the room had been reserved for me, she tried to usher me in. But before I stepped in I asked innocently, "But, what happened to other guy that was in here?" She caught my drift and replied, "I don't know. I think he got eaten by the walls or something." That got a nice laugh out of everyone.

Since the Triage Nurse said (over the phone and during Triage) that I would get the shots sometime within the next 8 hours, I pulled out my IPod and kicked back as best I could. I also sent my friend a text telling him that I was going to be late to the wedding rehearsal. While I waited, every 5 to 10 minutes a nurse would come by and make sure I was still in there.

Eventually I spoke with the ER Doctor, who had an attitude about him that I was wasting his time, money, and valuable resources. He explained to me that Rabies travels up the nerves at a rate of 1 inch per day. Since it has been 30 days and there is not 30 inches between the bite and my brain that I could not have Rabies. Even if I did have Rabies and some how by some miracle it had not made it to my brain yet, that taking the series now would not do any good. And that he had never given the Rabies series "just because someone wanted it".

I informed him of the circumstances, and that I did not want to be there any more than he wanted me there, because I hate needles and I had a Wedding rehearsal to be at. But, depending on how much of the virus I might have received and the strength of the virus, it can take up to 2 years to reach the Brain. I got an angry look for that comment. Besides all that, Workman Comp, my Supervisors, the liaison for Workman Comp, and DHEC all told me to get the shots. At that the Doctor started walking out of the room and said, "Well, I'm only an ER Doctor. If DHEC is telling you get it then, you'll get it."

An hour later a Nurse comes in with a handful syringes and says, "Okay, after this, me and you aren't going to be friends." "Wow," I said, "that's a lot on needles." Out in the hall I heard the Doctor say, "That's what he wanted." before the door shut. In the next 5 minutes I received 7 shots, none in the abdomen. The first was the Rabies Immune Globulin. The most expensive of the bunch in the left shoulder. Usually it is administered at the bite site, but since it has been a month the Doctor advised to give it in the shoulder. I guess I should be thankful that he did not want to try and administer it right to my brain. Anyway, the other shots went into my other arm and hips.

Once the Nurse was done, she had me wait to make sure there was no serious reaction to the meds. After the wait, she gave me some Advil and three year old Graham Crackers (I just found it odd that they would have that much of a back stock).

When the paperwork was printed up, the Nurse told me where I would be going for the next series of shots and pointed me to the exit. I promptly got lost in the maze and found myself in a Hispanic waiting area. They all noticed the confused look and pointed me to the nearest exit. It was not the exit that I was looking for, but I knew where I was. When I got back to my car I strapped my guns back on under the watchful glare of an unarmed security guard at the end of the row of cars.

Seconds later I was off to the Wedding rehearsal that I was an hour late to.

To be continued...

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

My Left Hand

To start, an update. My hand still has a nasty hole in it, however, I have managed to give it enough air to stop clotting on the bandages and reopening the wound every time I change them. I am still fortunate enough to not have any severe pain in the wounded area. Unless I move it or touch it in a way that it does not like. Hopefully it will not take to long to heal from this point.

Now for an update on Agent L. She got some really depressing news this week. After a month of the Doctors telling her that she could have surgery next month to start the road to recovery, they instead told her that she would have to have orthodontic work first. So, now she will have to have braces for 9 months to a year before she can have her first surgery. Beyond telling us that sliver of news, she has effectively shut us out. She will be needing prayers.

On to the point of the post. I am sure that many of you right handed people out there have a lot of scars on your left hand, at least I do. From play to work, my left hand takes the brunt of any punishment coming my way.

I have always used my left hand to catch me when I fall or a fly ball heading my way during a baseball game. It is also the hand that is put forward to ward off any attacks. It was also unfortunate enough to be to close to a Pitt Bull on a chain.

Just looking at the palm of my left hand, I see two scars that have a common denominator, injury with no pain.

The first scar is in the Thumb area. To look at it, it does not look all that special. To most people it would look more like a wart than a scar. I received this scar, like the ones that are forming now, in the line of duty.

I was a Reserve Deputy at the time. I was riding with a Deputy on the west side, one of the rougher parts of town, and we were trying to locate a pack of Car thieves. They had just stolen a car from a local gas station. We were about a mile away, and heading toward the scene, when we saw the vehicle.

Unfortunately, they saw us as well. They ducked down a side street and into a residential area. As we were preparing to give chase the vehicle stopped and the driver "Bush Bonded". As soon as my car stopped I gave chase.

In an attempt to elude me and the deputy that was behind me, the driver ran behind a near by house and started fence hopping. Unfortunately for us, all of the chain link fences that we were hopping had a twisted selvage ("V" shaped barbs on the top of the fence). I believe we jumped about 5 or 6 fences before we were clear of the back yards.

I did rather well dodging the barbs on all the fences except the last. I felt the barb puncture the skin and felt as I rotated on it while I was clearing the fence. There was no pain, just pressure. The chase continued for another 100 yards when the Driver hit the woods. We soon lost the driver in the underbrush.

Once he was out of sight we stopped. We could hear him crashing though the underbrush for a good five seconds. Then it stopped with a loud splash. We moved up cautiously weapons ready. We came to a creek about 10 yards across. The driver was lying right in the middle of it spread eagle, face up in three inches of water. We quickly got him into custody and out of the woods as back up arrived.

We secured the Driver in the car of one of the arriving Deputies who pointed out that we were all bleeding. I just had the one puncture wound. The driver was cut and punctured in several places, not just his hands. EMS was called out and transported the Driver and myself to the ER (I volunteered to ride down with the Driver).

After several hours in the ER getting x-rayed, poked, and prodded we were all released and the Driver was taken to Jail.

I was really lucky that the puncture did not cause any damage other than to the tissue. Considering where the puncture was, it could have done a lot of damage to my hand. But, in a few weeks it was good as it ever was.

The other scar on my left hand is a upside down V on the Middle finger, proximal phalanges, palm side (the tuft of meat between the second knuckle and palm). This injury came about in a little less...grand way. In fact it was down right stupid (funny how that keeps happing).

It was just before Christmas a few years back. I was helping the Float crew finish up the Christmas Float for the Church. Our church builds a float every year and enters in several local Christmas Parades to spread the true meaning of Christmas to the masses.

This was my second year helping. I was cutting strips of velcro into smaller more manageable one inch squares. Well, I am not really sure at what point my brain shut down. But, at some point I decided that the best way to cut these strips was to hold one end between my middle and index finger and the other with my ring finger and thumb.

The next thing I notice is a fully closed pair of scissors and a flap of skin over them. I quickly put down the scissors and started applying pressure. That is after taking a good long look at the fatty tissue in my finger. I called out to one of the other workers who just so happened to be a Registered Nurse. I just asked her to take a look at my hand. She obliged and did not react a lot when she saw the wound. She merely took hold of my hand and held it to where she could see better. She then lifted the flap with a fingernail and attempted to place it back where it should have been.

After examining it she stated, "It's a clean cut. It'll need stitches though. Go wash it out good before you head to the ER." I did as I was told while she went and told my mother to take me to the closest ER.

A few seconds after I started washing my hand in warm tap water, the husband of the RN came into the washroom and wanted to take a look at my hand. He said, "She's a good Nurse, but if you got a paper cut she'll tell ya' it needs stitches...Holy crap! You really did a number on your finger. Yeah, you need stitches." He then took a paper towel and tore it in half. One half he gave to me, the other he kept. The half he kept he rolled up and tied it around my finger at the wound. The other he wrapped around my finger and ushered me out the door to the waiting car.

A couple hours in the ER and 6 stitches later I was back home.

Out of the three times I have been to the ER the highest pain score given (o is no pain and 10 being Oh my God someone kill me) was a 2, which got some odd looks from the Nurses.

Just to go ahead and clarify something, this post is not meant to brag about how tough and calm I am. I am actually allergic to pain. I do not like it, it does not like me, and I avoid it as much as possible. So, I will be sure and keep a close look out for my left hand until it gets healed.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Gunslinger on the Bench

Okay, I'm going to have drop my Mid-world persona for the day. Why you ask. Well due to a combination of really good medicine and the fact that my left hand looks like it was attacked by a funnel web spider, kind of hampers my ability to type and think enough to keep up the facade.

So, as of yesterday I'm on medical leave, at least until Tuesday. All this stems from me going against my gut. I put myself in a situation I knew was stupid and I went anyway.

Yesterday, I was out conducting Home Visits by myself, Casey opted to stay at the office and finish filling out paperwork for court. So, I went out solo. Nothing unusual, I've done it before. I did it a lot when I was a Deputy in fact. At around 1145 hours I pulled up in front of an Offender's reported address. I recognized the house from the first time this Offender got out on Probation. The first time there were less dogs though. I stepped out of the car and closed the door. Four medium to small dogs all come running out of their hidey holes and start barking enough to wake the dead. I was thankful of the fenced in yard.

I walk over to the front gate and waited to see what happened. I figured that if anyone was in the house, that they would at least walk to a window and see me standing there and come to investigate. Well, after five minutes of barking, I decided that there was no way anyone was home and I would have to leave a note on the door.

During the five minutes of waiting I was checking out the dogs. Three Pit Bulls and one chow mix. The chow and one of the Pit Bulls (the oldest and about 1 - 2 years old) were chained to the house. The two younger (one 6 months and the other barely old enough to be away from momma) Pits were running lose in the yard.

I toyed with the 6 month old pit, trying to gauge how he would react to me coming into his home. He was very interested at getting to me. I placed my hand near enough to the fence to stop any bites, but close enough for him to smell and or lick at me. He did the latter. I then checked out the oldest pit. He was giving out the body language of being playful and happy to see me, but my gut was telling me that he was chained for a reason and that body language was misleading.

As I started to open the front gate the 6 month old lunged at me. Coming halfway through the opening in the gate. Luckily all he was interested in doing was licking. I whacked him on the nose to get him back inside the gate and remembered that I needed to get a note for the door. I retrieved it and began my journey of stupidity.

As I started walking toward the door I was better able to see the trail that the two chained dogs had made. Both dogs had been positioned to guard the front door. But, from the trails their maximum chain length allowed plenty of room to get to the front door.

The rest is kind of jumbled. I remember almost getting to the front porch, when I felt something pull my left hand. Surely all of you know the feeling of a small child tugging your hand for whatever reason. That's all I felt. I looked down and saw my hand in the oldest pits mouth. My middle, ring, and pinkie fingers all the way up to mid-hand, to be exact.

I then did the most natural and dumbest thing anyone can do, I tried to pull my hand out. When I did that he clamped down and started shaking. All I felt was pressure, no pain. My brain flooded with thoughts as to what to do. I knew this was bad. The attack mode that the oldest was in could easily send the little 6 month old the message to do the same. If the 6 month old hit me in the right spot, I could go down and that would be really bad. It had to be ended now.

The thought process went as follows: Punch it! Punch it in the nose! No, what if he grabs a hold of your other hand, and if grabs a hold of it you can't shoot him. Shoot him? That's right shoot him! Crap! I can't, he's shaking my arm to much and I might shoot myself in the process. Well, do something!...The dog whisperer! If a dog he's working with needs a little extra distracting, he gives them a little kick between the ribs and back legs!

I then kick with everything I can put behind it, right in the sweet spot. The dog yelped, giving me enough time to get my hand out of his mouth. From bite to release, maybe five seconds.

I then took a few steps back toward the gate and stopped to check out the damage. I noted a few places where I was starting to bleed. I then noticed a hole in the webbing between the middle and ring finger. It wasn't bleeding, but when I spread those two fingers, all I saw was white. My thought was that I really hope that that's just fatty tissue and not bone and ligaments.

At some point I remember the dogs and noticed that something was trying to eat my ankle. Unable to find purchase to get a hold of my ankle because of my boot, it started going to town on my pants leg. Since it was just the pants leg I just started walking toward the gate. I'm not sure how I managed to get the gate closed, but I did. I then went back to the car for the phone and was so shaken that I couldn't dial 911 the first couple of tries.

Once I actually got a hold of the emergency operator, I advised her of who I was, who I worked for, and where I was. I told her that I was attacked by a dog and needed a Deputy and and ambulance. Her response was, "Is it your dog?" "No. It's not my dog. I'm at at an offender's house doing a home visit." "Is the dog still attacking you?" Really, "No! The dog isn't attacking me!" "Okay sir, I'm going to transfer you to the EMS operator."

Once a hold of the EMS operator, I had to go through the same exact line of questions with the added bonus of medical advise. That consisted of keep the wounded hand elevated and wipe the wounded area down with a damp cloth. During the conversation with the EMS operator, I started looking through the car for the first aid kit and of course, no luck.

Once I was done with the operators I had to call the office and give the bad news. After a few seconds with the Admin at the front desk I was transferred to our Assistant Agent In Charge. After five minutes of explaining the situation, he then told me that I would have to talk to my Supervisor to get the paperwork going. Really, we couldn't have done that a few minutes earlier.

After a few minutes on the phone with my Supervisor, I noticed a woman standing on the front porch of the house. She was standing there holding the new born pit with nothing more than a night gown and a bath robe on. Once I saw her, I told her to come over and speak with me, "YOU! GET OVER HERE! NOW!" was the gist of it. She calmly walked over, giving the chained pit a kick when it tried to start playing with her.

Once she came over, I went into full police mode, getting her name, age, date of birth, contact information, whether the dog had it's Rabies shot (she claimed it does, but couldn't find the information or the tags), I even managed to find out that my offender was not living at this address. Once I got all that, I told her that she needed to go back inside and get dressed for when the Deputies came and see if she could fine the Rabies shot info. She obliged.

After three minutes of waiting, EMS arrived. They cleaned and bandaged the wounds and let me sit in the back of the ambulance while we waited for the deputies. After ten minutes the county Animal Control arrived. He told me the Deputies were not coming and that he was going to take care of it. Which meant giving the owner a ticket for not having the Rabies tags and quarantining the dog at the house (since it was already chained up and what not) for the next ten days, to make sure that it didn't exhibit any signs of Rabies. Animal control told me when the hearing date would be, but that if the owner provided the tags and/or information for the Rabies shots that the charges would be dropped. It was only going to be $185 ticket anyway.

Once I got the EMS crews information and the information from Animal control, I signed the waiver to not be transported to the Hospital and drove myself to, in my opinion, the best ER in the County. One of the perks of being in Law Enforcement, you tend to go to a lot of ER's, and learn quick which is the best to go to in the event of an Emergency.

After a short drive and an even shorter wait in the ER lobby, I was taken to triage. While trying to answer the barrage of questions, I got a text message from Casey, "Call me when you get a sec." Thinking this was just to get a heckle, I told him that it would be a while before I could do that. A few seconds later I got another text from him asking if I could run by the jail and help him to serve a warrant. I just told him that I wouldn't be able to due to paperwork that I would be doing later.

While I was going through Triage, one of the Supervisors came in to make sure that everything was going smoothly and to keep me company. Interesting that my Supervisor didn't do that.

Anyway, after four hours in the ER, being poked, prodded, x-rayed, and IVed to my limit, they let me go.

The Supervisor insisted on driving me back to the office, where I was immediately inundated with questions and of course made fun of, mostly by Casey for not telling him I was in the ER. Of all the people in my office that have had the privilege of being called "milkbone", I am the only one that has the moniker of "Chain".

Once, I answered everyone's questions, mostly my Supervisor's, I was allowed to go home for the weekend. Since I had Court scheduled for today (and y'all know how much I hate that) it's not such a bad trade. Although, I will be chained to a desk for the foreseeable future, that part will suck.

For now, I get to discuss things with my workman's comp representative and get that paperwork going. On Monday (which is a holiday for us South Carolina state employees) I get to go see a hand specialist to make sure that everything is okay with my hand. Of course the ER doctor did mention words such as surgery, but I don't think that will be necessary unless the wound gets infected to a point that antibiotics aren't working.

Since, I have a lot more free time, I might just have a post about past injuries ;)

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

The Gunslinger vs. The "Bug"

For the past two days I have been battling some form of an Ailment that I have never seen before. Luckily it is easily treated. However, this is not my first bout with this "Bug."

The first time occurred some time in early March, I believe it to be March 8th. It was 2000 hrs and I noticed that my joints started aching. Normally, this would not be that strange, if I was older. Or, if it was not every single joint below my heart. I dismissed it as the joints stiffening after a different type of workout.

After about half an hour I noticed that the pain was steadily becoming more...noticeable. Then the headache started. This I just dismissed as a caffeine detox from not having any kind of carbonated drinks that day.

As the night wore on the joint pain went from slight ache to red hot pokers jabbed into every joint below the chest. I was completely unaware of how many joints I had below the heart. Now I know.

I am not much for taking any sorts of medicine unless it is absolutely necessary. In this case I decided it was time for an exception and began searching the house for some Advil, Tylenol, Aleve, anything to stop the pain.

Not one single pill in the entire house. What a time not to have a wife, she would have made sure that kind of thing was kept in stock. However, due to the fact that it was now late in the evening, I decided that it would have to wait until later.

With the "Bug" in full swing, I slept through the first couple of Snoozes. When I finally reached consciousness it was 0630. So much for the morning routine.

I zipped through the morning routine in double time fashion and headed off for work. Yeah you heard true, work. Actually, I had to make a quick pit stop first at the car shop to drop off my car and meet Casey.

This was the 3rd or 4th time my car had been to the car shop for different things. Let us just say that it was a necessary thing that needed doing and would take all day, therefore I might as well go to work. Yet, another good reason to have a wife around.

Once the car was dropped off, Casey pulled up and told me of his wonderful night. That was the night that his daughter nearly plucked out his right eye. On the way to the office I told him about my night. Once there it was business as usual, except for the pain.

As the day wore on the "Bug" decided it would try something different. Now, it added hot to cold flashes and the pain would come in waves. The pain in my joints would go from red hot pokers to flaming hot poker of Death, then back again. After a while I just forgot about the headache.

To limit any possible infections to my fellow co-workers and in particular Agent S (who was still expecting at this time) I stayed to myself. Which apparently in in of itself raised suspicion. All through the day everyone was asking if I was okay, to which I gave the obligatory, "Yes, I'm fine. Just a little busy." Which they understood.

That is until about 1500 hours. Agent S came to me (one of the last male Agents in our office) to arrest a mail offender for her. I thought it over and told her that I did not believe it to be a good Idea, again not normal behavior. She asked me why and I was about to answer, when a wave of flaming hot pokers of Death hit. It apparently showed on my face. She then asked if I was okay to which I could only reply no. Once the pain subsided to what had become normal I explained what was going on.

She then went and told everyone else in the office and by the time everyone came to check on me, I was dying of Swine Flu. Funny how even among Law Enforcement details get distorted.

After a very long question and answer series about the illness and why I was at work, the session was ended by Work Mom, who simply stated, "If I get sick, I will shoot you." I thanked everyone for their concern and they went about the business of arresting the Offender.

At around 1650 hrs I received notification that my car was ready to be picked up. Casey dropped me off at the car shop and I promptly drove home. On the way, I called my Mother and told her what was going on and what I should do. She told me to pick up a pack of Advil Liqui-gels and a pack of Mucinex-DM.

Once home I took the "prescibed" medicine and waited. About two hours later I noticed an odd sensation. I felt as though the finger of God was sliding down my back cooling (and removing) the pokers.

This apparently torked the "Bug" off and he switched to a different Modus Operandi all together. About an hour later my left eye began to itch like crazy. Thinking nothing of it, I did my best to relieve the itch. That is until I noticed that I was becoming increasingly difficult to reopen each time it closed. I hopped up and went to the nearest mirror.

To my horror, my eye had swollen to the size of a golf ball. I immediately iced it down and called my mother and chalked it up to an allergic reaction to the Mucinex (the only one of the two drugs I had never taken before). After a while my eye returned to a normal-ish size and life returned to normal. I continued taking the Advil doses for a couple of days just to make sure the "Bug" did not come back.

I did not have any more problems with the "Bug" until this past Friday night. The "Bug" apparently did not take to kindly to being whooped. This time he brought a friend. Pollen Allergy. With my sinuses acting up it was hard to discern the headache from the sinus pain. But once the joint stuff started up, I immediately took a dose of Advil. Same all most immediate response. Except this time my right eye swole up. Thankfully I had an entire weekend to get over this thing because I needed it. I do not think I have ever slept so much in my life.

Anyway, it is now Sunday night and as far as I can tell the "Bug" is gone, at least for now. The symptoms are as follows: Severe pain in lower joints, mild headache, mild fever and slight chills late in the onset, the swollen eye thing could be the "Bug" reacting to the Advil Liqui-gels, I am not sure. But, if anyone out there has experienced this or is an actual Doctor with knowledge in how for me not to go through this crap again, please let me know. Thank you.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Our Mrs Goose

No, it is not what you think. For the past several weeks things have been interesting at work. So, much so that I do not want to touch a computer, much less sit and type out anything. Some of which was my own creation. Some, the creation of law makers in Columbia, SC.

As of late those of us at work have been watching the news very attentively. Mostly to see how the South Carolina Legislature will fix the current financial bind that South Carolina is in. So far, their big brainstorm is to lay off 100 agents, add 5 more furlough days for a total of 10, and increase the workload of the agents left, by releasing 3,000 inmates from the South Carolina Department of Corrections.

By my math (which is weak) that leaves me looking for work come the next fiscal year.

However, there is a bright side to all of this. So far this is only a proposal brought by the SC House. The Senate still has to make their own and they will have to come to terms. Yeah, I will not be holding my breath for a bunch of Politicians to decide my fate. Applications are already on their way out.

This is done with great sadness. I have invested a lot of time and energy in my job. Yes, to the exclusion of all else. Mayhap, that is why it is being taken away. For mine is a jealous God, and he does not take kindly to second place.

Be that as it may, I love my job and pray that I can stay. I do view the fact that I am putting out applications as a betrayal. Not to my bosses, they could care less if I stay or go, and certainly not to the pack of wolves that I over see, but to my co-workers.

If you have read any of this blog, then you should already know some of my feelings in this matter. My co-workers are more than just co-workers, they are my family. Some parts are dysfunctional, and some of them I do not like, but family none the less.

Okay, with that part out of the way, we come to the point. I am a fan of the Science Fiction Television Series Firefly. If you have not seen this show you need to. But, I am sure that any fan will recognize the title and have a glimpse as to what may follow. What does follow are two incidents that I found funny enough to share.

First, over the past several weeks I have been overloaded when it comes to my full report days. Having 60 + Offenders come in at the same time tends to cause issues. So, much so that my supervisor had to call me to her office and tell me the policy for reporting. Then she told me, for the next couple of weeks my entire team would be helping me straighten out my mess. No, that is not at all embarrassing.

So, with Agent S, still on the mends (and expecting), myself and Work Mom had to help her on her full report days. With the mandate that my Supervisor handed down, they had to help me on my full report days. And for pay back, Work Mom had me helping her on her full report days. All of which occurred on the same two weeks of the month. These quickly became known as "Hell Week".

With that in mind, Work Mom has taken a considerable amount of my reports in the past couple of weeks. Which did not go unnoticed by my Offenders, some of which are new to probation.
On one of the days that was not my report day, at this point I cannot remember whose report day it was. I was out taking reports with my team. Work Mom went to the door and called a name off of the list. Then, I heard something odd, "Mrs. Goose! Mrs. Goose!"

At the time I was taking a report, but hearing my name with an honorific that I had not heard since my mother got remarried, was enough to bring me to a halt. It apparently took Work Mom a second or two for her to figure out that the Offender was calling her.

"Mrs. Goose, when is my report day?" the hapless offender asked. "Excuse me? That is not my name." Work Mom told the offender in a hurt tone. "But, your my Agent right? Goose?" the offender continued. "No, I'm not your Agent. That is not my name. I did take your report, but that doesn't make me your Agent." Work Mom stated in an increasing louder voice. "But." "No 'buts'! I am not your Agent!" Before the Offender could say another word she stormed back into the reporting area. She then stormed to my cubicle with what I can only describe as fury in her eyes. I on the other hand was trying not to burst into laughter. The offender whose report I was taking was attempting to get as far into the corner as he possibly could.

"One of your idiots is out in the lobby!" She bellowed. I could not speak, if I did I would only start something that I would regret (brain-mouth filter finally installed). I stood up and walked to the lobby. My Offender still standing in front of the door with a bewildered look on his face. He began to say something, but I motioned for him to be quite and to follow me outside. I quickly straightened him out and he apologized at least 19 times, to me and Work Mom. After giving him my next report day, I sent him about his business.

I let things simmer down on this subject for the rest of the day. However, the next dayI began to rag Work Mom incessantly about this whole ordeal. Which, she blamed on me anyway. This is due to the whole mess being mine to begin with.

The second incident happened today. Recently a cafeteria opened in the building where I work. As a part of the service, they offer really cheap refills on a cup that they do not provide. Bring your own cup or previously used cup and get a drink on the cheap. Needless to say I frequent the cafeteria a lot.

With Agent S expecting her baby to come due any day now, she likes for someone to accompany her to the cafeteria. Since I am usually on the way there myself, I tind to walk with her.

Well, today I decided that I needed an early refill and noticed that Work Mom was already in the office. I asked her if she needed anything from the cafeteria. She stated that she needed a drink and would go with me to get it. So, we walked to the cafeteria and got our drinks. While I am paying for my drink the lady at the register asked me, "So, did your wife make it through the weekend?" This with Work Mom standing right beside me.

The first thought that shot through my head was, What in God's name is she talking about? Then, How drunk did I get over the weekend? Remembering the line from Firefly. Then I realized that I do not drink and discarded that notion. I then asked the woman for clarification.

She said, "Your Wife's pregnant right? Did she make it through the weekend or did she have the baby?" It then dawned on me to whom she was speaking of. Apparently Work Mom got it at the same time I did and started laughing. Work Mom then said, "What am I chopped liver?" emphasizing the point with a slap to the shoulder. The woman at the register then had to pick her jaw off the counter, "Oh my God. I am so sorry. Are you his wife?" Before it could go any further I jumped in, "No, no she's not. I'm not married. They are both just my co-workers."

Now, the woman just turned bright red. "I am SO sorry," the woman started, "I didn't mean anything by it. I just saw you two coming in here together so often and thought..." I stopped her before she could finish, "It's okay. It actually happens to me a lot." I paid for my refill and headed for the hallway. At least this time, I did not feel the need to bathe in acid.

Once we were back in the office, we checked to see if Agent S was at her desk. She was. We then began to recount what happened. She laughed and said, "We'll only be in trouble if he comes out looking like you." More laughter as my supervisor walked in and asked what was so funny. Again the tale was told. She did not seem to appreciate the story as much until I told her that we would have to change the team name to Team Goose, since most of the team now had my name. She chuckled at that.

These are but a few of the reasons that I would hate to leave this job. I guess we will have to see if the world moves on again.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Karma

This is a word that my partner, Casey, loves to bring up a lot, and I do mean a lot. Specific examples do not come to mind at the moment, only faint flashes of Casey talking crazy talk about near death experiences due to my driving technique.

The reason I bring the word up is due to my current situation. As of an hour ago I was sitting on my couch watching "Surviving Survivor" and wondering why it was so ever loving cold in my home. At the time I thought it was because I was situated under a fan and discounted it until after the show. When I looked at the thermostat I noticed that it was 59 degrees inside. I checked the thermostat to make sure that the settings were correct and found everything to be in working order. I then went to the gas logs and attempted to turn them on. It was a no go. There was no distinctive hissing noise made when the gas was turned to on. I concluded that I am out of gas.

I called the gas company and left them a very...urgent message. Especially when I am supposed to be in the midst of another "winter event" by morning. As much fun as last weekend was, I do not want the same thing this weekend with out the insta-fire or heat in general. Hopefully, the company will find time in their busy schedule to provide a paying customer what he asked for.

Now, for the possible reasons for the karma attack. Lord, where to begin...well...there is the myriad of times that I have "almost" personally delivered Casey to Purgatory, whilst I move on to the Pearly Gates. Then there is the 1...2...3...75 Offenders that I had to...encourage back to the straight and narrow.

However, out of all that, one face sticks out. He was one of my better Offenders. Always paid his money, and on time. He stayed out of trouble, but there was one issue. He was illegal. Three months ago, I called I.C.E. (Immigration and Customs Enforcement), namely an old co-worker of mine (lets call him Special Agent A), and told him about my Offender (lets call him Mitch). Upon hearing about the charges that Mitch had (somehow getting arrested, indicted, and sentenced without Immigration ever catching wind of it) Special Agent A told me that he would look into it and get back with me. Three months later he calls me and asks when Mitch would next report. The call just so happened to be the day before the report day that I had given Mitch. Special Agent A told me that they had something they had to do on the scheduled day for Mitch to report and asked me to have him come in today. I agreed and called Mitch.

I was kind of truthful in that I told Mitch that I had a scheduling conflict and I needed him to report today. Being one of my better Offenders he agreed happily.

Well, today arrived and thankfully I was taking reports for another Agent, because I had completely forgotten about the entire episode. At the beginning of another fun filled day of reports I got paged by one of the Administrative Assistants downstairs. Being rather upset at the interruption, I kind of grunted at her over the phone. She cheerily relayed the fact that I.C.E. was here to see me and my jaw hit the floor with the realization of what I had forgotten. After picking up my jaw, I told her to send them up, and after a few minutes wait they were sitting in my office.

I told them the could wait there for Mitch and were immediately inundated with questions from my fellow Agents. Mostly trying to get their immigrants, Illegal and otherwise, off their caseloads as well.

After a few minutes, I checked the lobby and found Mitch dutifully waiting for me to call him back. Once Mitch sat down in the reporting area Special Agent A and his partner were there taking him into custody. Through the flurry of Spanish words going back and forth Casey managed to pick out a few words. "No, I'm Legal." But, the thing that I noticed most, was the fear in his eyes.

When I relayed the horrible feeling in my gut to Casey, he mentioned the fact that most offenders that we arrest only go to jail or prison after I lie to get them in my office. Mitch, would go to a Federal dentention facility somewhere in Texas, before they put him on a plane bound for his 3rd world home country of origin.

Now, with my luck, Mitch was a leader for a local sect of Mara Salvatrucha (MS-13) or a drug runner, black market gun smuggler, or just a Harrier of the worst kind that acted nice when I was around.

In any event, the Angel that goes around bestowing Karmic events has come to visit and hopefully will be gone sometime tomorrow. Hopefully, before my pipes freeze, and all the living things in my home freeze to death.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

Camping at home

Well here I am again, just coming back from a camping trip. Nothing like having your house for a tent. By that I mean the power has been out for the past eleven hours. The last time my power was out for any length of time was December 2005. The power was out for four days. Luckily I had some church members near by that had a generator and an extra bed for those cold nights. I learned some lessons from that experience. Obviously, not enough.

The meteorologists have been predicting this snow storm since last week. Unlike most Southerners and South Carolinians especially, I do not immediately run to the Grocery Store every time the weather man or woman says the word "Snow". So far this winter the Meteorologists have predicted "Winter Weather" three times, including this go round. The first time most of the jurisdiction got a lot of snow, mostly were Casey lives, whilst I received nothing. Second time same situation. Third time I get a big snow ball in my face.

On the way home last night Casey called me and let me know that it was in fact snowing in the northern part of the jurisdiction, where we live. By the time I actually got home the snow was sticking to the ground, but not the concrete, so...no worries. By the time I went to bed after midnight there was two and a half inches on the ground, still a no go on the concrete.

Now for you all up North, two and a half inches is a great snow for us. However, unlike the snow up North, this stuff is still wet. When it hits the ground it does not move for anyone. When they congregate together, it makes a mound of Ice that happens to look like snow.

Everyone always makes fun of us because when it snows, everything shuts down. No schools, no business, no government. Even with the South Carolina Department of Transportation plowing and dumping sand like we are at the beach, the roads are still treacherous. Unless you have the skills to drive on solid ice for an extended period of time, you keep yourself at home or walk. My Father could tell you stories about Folks from up North that move to the South and think that they can drive just because it is snowing and subsequently end up in the nearest ditch or in the rear of his Patrol Car.

Also, if you live around trees, expect to have limbs or the whole tree come down. Our trees are not used to the extra weight of the ice. They only get it once maybe twice a year. Once the snow becomes ice the trees start shedding the extra pounds. I usually take a walk to see the sights and to see if the SCDOT has gotten around to clearing the nearest road. It is usually very peaceful and soothing to see everything coated in white. Then, you hear a load crack from up above. Next thing I know I am running and tactical rolling out of the way of icicles and a huge limb.

Anyway, this morning I woke up to this unknown chirping noise that was not my bird. After my brain woke up enough to realize that it was the alarm system letting me know that the power was out. I grabbed my phone and looked at the time. It was 0535 hours...great, nothing like starting my Saturday morning at the same time I start every other day. So, I stumble out of bed, using the phone for a light (where my mag light that I kept for just such instances went I still do not know), to go tell the Alarm to shut up. Once done I called the power company to let them know that I would like their services back. After a few minutes of navigating the automated answering services I get the acknowledgment, "We know the power is out in your area due to a Winter Weather event. At this time we don't know when we will have your services back on." Awesome.

I decided that with the power possibly off for days, I figured I might as well get going.

Priority one: Move Frozen and cold essentials to a cooler. One thing I learned from the 2005 Ice Storm, even if the house is 35 degrees, it does not mean that the Cold box will keep anything. Lets just say that it was a mess.

So, I got the cooler out of the garage after procuring a proper flashlight. I opened the freezer and grabbed the bag of Ice that I now keep for just such occasions and what the Ice make made before it died. I then began moving the essentials to the cooler. I now realize that I need to work on my shopping skills. My cooler only had to hold a pint of Ice Cream, a gallon of Milk, and three packages of lunch meats. At least I did not have to worry about fitting it all in there.

Priority two: Heat. This one was easy, all I had to do was turn on the gas logs and wait for day light.

With nothing better to do, I grabbed a notepad and pen and started taking notes for this entry.

Once the Sun decided to get up, I took a look outside. As usual, at some point during the night the snow turned from snow, to a two inch layer of snow and one inch coating of ice. At least for the time being I would not be needing any more ice for the cooler. However, I figured at some point the snow/ice would melt and I would need ice. So, I grabbed a few extra water bottles and stuck them outside to freeze. So, far they have yet to freeze, even though it has been twenty degrees all day.

I then proceeded to take a walk down the hill and see the sights (and dodge the falling ice and limbs). Nothing like free tactical training. On the way back I took this picture:

With the exercises done I went back home and started reading. A few hours later I had a heart attack when the power came back on and the Alarm clock in the guest bedroom decided to play a random radio station at full volume.

I then called the Power Company to thank them for their speedy response.

Now, I am off for some more tactical exercises and to check on the neighbors.

Semper Fi Deus

Goose

A Combat Engineer's Tale: Give Me Five Years And You Will Not Recognize Germany Again

Bridges. A piece of architecture that most of us hardly even notice...unless of course, your traveling through Charleston, SC and are afraid of heights. I am speaking of the Silas N. Pearman and John P. Grace Memorial Bridges (if you ever went over the Cooper River prior to 2005 you know what I am talking about). You also might take note when one is missing and need to cross a river, railroad tracks, or a big hole in the ground.

You would also take note of the bridges if you ever had to build one quick, fast, and in a hurry, while under intense shelling and sniper fire. My Grandfather has a picture marked of him during one such instance, helping to piece together a Baily bridge over the river Salm in Belgium. The exact place was the town of Vielsalm, Belgium. The date was the morning of January 17, 1945. The Allies had just begun their push into Vielsalm. The first infantryman used boats, any boats, to get across the river. However, to get more men and materials across temporary bridges had to be erected.

Shortly after dawn on the 17th the battle had already begun and the opposite bank of the river already captured. All the Engineers had to do was get the bridges up. My Grandfather said that he was glad that his Lieutenant and Captain, both had an extensive knowledge of how to build bridges. Usually the Bailey bridges were mostly pieced together ahead of time, behind the front line. The work made all the more import, my Grandfather said, as one of the Pontoons ferrying soldiers was hit by an 88 (88mm Anti-Aircraft Gun, often used as an Artillery piece). He said that they never actually came under sniper fire, but every once in a while you would hear the crack of a bullet wizzing over their heads.

As the Germans withdrew back into Germany they destroyed every bridge they left behind. They also destroyed buildings, left dead horses, trucks, tanks and mines in the roadways. Anything to try and slow down the Allied push into Germany. Almost, every river crossing had to be rebuilt before the Allies could forge ahead. My Grandfather recalled working with a British Company when building several bridges over the Maas and her canals in Holland.

Holland presented my Grandfather and the Company with several other new problems that also had to be overcome beside building bridges on the skeletons of the previous bridge. Usually if the Germans had time they would blow up the dikes and dams in order to flood entire areas. Not only would the Combat Engineers have to build the bridges but they would have to repair the dikes and the dams. My Grandfather said that the British crews were top notch when it came to fixing a dam and getting the water back out of a particular area. He said that he personally only had to work on one dam, but he heard about a lot of others.

After Holland came Germany. Everything that the 75th had been through up until this point had been a cake walk compared to what was coming. There would be no more happy civilians to give them shelter in the freezing nights. No more liberations. From here on it was German territory, the mother land, their land, their homes, their families. The Germans would make the Allies pay for every inch of German dirt taken.

The Rhine crossing must have been one of the worst for my Grandfather, because when that page came up he did not say anything, even when I asked him a question. I decided it was time to take a break from memory lane and we went back inside. It was getting dark out on the porch anyway. Upon entering the house my Grandfather went into the kitchen for a glass of water and I received "the Look" from my Grandmother. I know now that my Mother gets "the Look" honestly. I paid my Grandmother no heed and sat down in the TV room.

A few minutes later my Grandfather came in and joined me. I opened the book back up and we continued. He chose to skip right to post-war Europe and his time in Cologne, Germany and Paris, France. Germany would never be the same. Hundreds of years worth of history lost to American and British bombs. Entire Neighborhoods, Cities really, flattened. My Grandfather and the Engineers were tasked with helping to of course get the infrastructure back up. Every once in a while he would also take up guard duty at a gate to temporary American camp in Cologne.

He recounted one time late in the day when he and one of his buddies were standing out at the gate on a busy street. They were down the street from a bakery and it was well past lunch. My Grandfather noticed a man come out of the bakery with a fresh loaf of bread and put it in the basket of his bicycle. The man started peddling feverishly up the hill towards them. As the man got in front of the gate, my Grandfather decided to stop him. Something to the effect of "Stop! You need to be searched!" Yet in German. A simple phrase that my Grandfather picked up.

However, he failed to mention who should stop as he did not point anyone out. Well everyone on the street stopped, small children being walked home by their mothers, construction workers, a dump truck hauling rubble, and several people on bicycles. They all stopped and they all turned and looked at him. Even his buddy. Several seconds went by as he tried to figure out what he needed to do now. The people on the street began to wonder what was going on as the seconds ticked by.

Eventually he pointed to the man that just came from the bakery and motioned him over. He waved everyone else about their business. The man got off his bike and came over as the rest of the street slowly returned to the original pace. The man started asking questions in German. My Grandfather looks around and saw that the street had returned to normal and told the man to move along. The man looked at him questioningly, before my Grandfather told him to move along again. This time the man got back on his bike and started peddling. He also started yelling something in German. My Grandfather could on assume that he was being cursed at. The man continued well out of earshot. My Grandfather and his friend burst out laughing, drawing more looks from the bystanders.

During the war the 75th division had one of the highest casualty rates during their time in the war. They would go from being called "The Diaper Division" due to their complete lack of combat experience, to "The Bulge Busters".

During that time I can only assume that my Grandfather lost many, many friends. Once home he would learn of more losses. He found out that his wife of three years, left him for another man and that she took his house and sold it. He had to move back home with his Mom and Dad. That is until he met my Grandmother a year later. The rest is history.

If I happen to get more stories from my Grandfather I will be sure to recount them here, so that hopefully the memories will not be lost to time.

Also, for clarification, the title quote is from a sign that was hung on a building in Cologne, Germany. The sign proclaims that it is a quote from Hitler, however, I cannot find any evidence that Hitler did or did not say it. Either way, the sign reads true. The Germany left behind after the rule of Hitler was very different, far more different than even Hitler might have wanted.


Semper Fi Deus

Goose