The Male Gene

As I sit on my couch, excitement mounting on the inside, I look down at my new ScumBuster with a heighten sense of joy. Now, I know what you a thinking, "this 26 year old male is excited about something used for cleaning bathrooms? Sounds like too many fumes for that Kid." But in my defense (not that I need to defend myself) it was made by Black and Decker so technically it is a tool and tools are manly, and I am all that is man. Anyway, I had been to Lowes and both Home Depots in town to track down this "tool." It is basically a battery operated tub cleaner. It has different brushes that are used to kick soap scums ass and restore your bathroom to it's original greatness (cha-ching, the sound of a royalty check cashing). How does it work you ask. Well, hell if I know.

As I was pulling it out it's package and using an exacto knife to cut the annoying security ties, my hand slipped and the knife came to rest in my middle finger of my left hand. No pain, but a grunt of displeasure at how this was going to throw off my day. I journeyed to the bathroom to clean and bandage the wound. As the dark red blood flowed I examined the cut to see how deep it was. Now, I am not what one would call an expert in the art of medicine, so decided to "Phone a Friend." Or in this case a man with past experiences of stupid wounds, that's right I called my dad. He and I talked and I decided, just to make sure, I would go to the doctor to see if stiches were necessary. I wrapped it up and set off to the quick care center. I felt a little sheepish walking into the waiting room with a possibly minor cut. But it kept bleeding so I continued. After exchanging witty banner with the admitting nurse she asked me what happened. I replied with what had happened and added I was being stupid. She promptly told me that was the male gene hard at work. For this I had no retort, because she was a nurse after all...well, mostly because she was right. So I filled out the paper work and sat down watching whatever crappy soap was on the 16 inch TV high the corner 20 feet away. After a while I noticed my finger had stopped bleeding and it didn't look that bad. I went to tell the admitting nurse I was just going to bail, but she convinced me to hang round just to make sure. So, I did, she is a nurse after all.

The doctor came in. He was a short round man with scrubs almost pink from wear and washing. In squeaky voice he examined my finger bending his white, balding head over blocking my view. I got the standard grunts, Hmms, and other "bedside Manner" learned in the Tropic Island Medical School, and then he left the room. He returned a minute later with "Surgical Adhesive." He returned with super glue, albeit sterilized, but still it was super glue. He put some of my finger and that was it. I paid my copay, a little pissed I paid 20 bucks for super glue and an hour of my day lost, then I left. At least I knew I would be fine and not have to worry about infection.

I get home and start cleaning, because it relaxes me if you must know. Well within the first ten minutes of being home I bumped my finger and it starts bleeding again. I let slip some terms most of you would deem unacceptable. It didn't' hurt, I wasn't worried about what had blood on it, I was pissed off because I had lost twenty bucks for something that didn't hold. I decided to go to my junk draw and become a doctor myself. I found my super glue and put a heaping amount on the cut and finger. No more problems. Now I will have a scar, be out some money, and I have to buy more super glue. I guess the male gene not only allows for stupid mistakes, but makes acceptable stupid cures, like over the counter super glue for deep cuts. Now next time I cut myself, loose a limb, or break a bone I am going to try to fix it with super glue to same some time and money. If that doesn't work then I will think about going to the doctor, but I'm going to give it the ole male gene try first.

The Prodigal Son

Tonight I went to my parents house at the bequest of my father. For about three months he has mentioned to me how he needed me to get the remaining amount of crap out of my old room. Apparently I am on the endangered list at my old pad. I say this because my two sister's rooms are still intact and not disturbed. Well, that is for the layers of dust beginning to claim residence in the rooms. I find this funny for a couple of reasons.

One, am I not the oldest child, the first fruit of the loins, the bearer of the inheritance, and specifically the ONLY MALE CHILD ON THE MCCORMICK SIDE! This makes me the sole person responsible for the continuation of the proud family name. I guess the fun-gun shys away from the Y chromosome. Two, I am the only child living in town. One sister has moved away, married, and has a family. The other has an apartment in a whole other town, closer to the Granny. But, despite the fact that I am a mere 20 minute drive away, mine is the room resolved to the fate of too much junk. Not my junk, their junk, their junk that has already taken over one guest room like the kudzu is taking over the south. But am I bitter, no, because I know when they get older, I will be the first everyone comes to for decisions to be made, then I will have my revenge ("evil menical laugh").

I went into the cleaning with the idea I was going to throw most of it away, because if I haven't used it or needed by now, then more than likely I wasn't going to need it. But, sifting through what was essentially my memories for the past ten years hit me harder than I expected. I found all kinds of great mementos, letters, inside jokes, and items I just couldn't bear to through away. I know they have no practical use other than me looking at them and tumbling into a nostalgic trance for an hour or an afternoon. When it was all said and done, I had four larges bags of trash and eight boxes of my childhood/adolesence I just couldn't part with. Those boxes have a resting place of the storage shed above my garage. I might not look at them for the next ten years, but at least I know they will be there in case they are needed. Little boxes of friends, feel-goods, and more simply times. "It is the experience of the past that make us who we are today", this is not uncommonly heard or told, but throwing this stuff away would be like throwing little pieces of me away. And that is just not acceptable. So they now hides in a dark, dry place awaiting an opportunity to put a smile on my face and a tear in my eye.

MERRY CHRISTMAS !!!

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

Three Days to Christmas!!

Egg Nog Compatible

Five Days To Christmas!!

"Merry Christmas, Good Looking."

"So this is Christmas
and what have you done
another year over
a new one just begun

and so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
the near and the dear ones
the old and the young

a very Merry Christmas
and a Happy New Year
let's hope it's a good one
without any fear

and so this is Christmas
for weak and for strong (...if you want it)
the rich and the poor ones
the road is so long

and so happy Christmas
for black and for white
for the yellow and red one
slet's stop all the fight

a very Merry Christmas
and a Happy New Year
lets hope it's a good one
without any fear


so this is Christmas
and what have you done"

-John Lenon

fire 12/15/05
damages: Everything!

Get Ready, It Is Coming

Today starts the random Christmas pictures. So, you are going to have to periodically check the site because my pictures rock (well, they rock in a kinda scary, guard the kids kinda way). Enough of that, now to the meat and potatoes.

Yesterday some one posed the question to me, "what traditions do you have for Christmas?" I easily rattled off things like, Christmas Eve with the cousins, Cliff house biscuits on Christmas morning, Santy Clause, and etc. There was a brief discussion amongst us sharing ideas and funny stories. Then the question, "What traditions do you have for the Birth of Christ?" That one hit me like a ton of bricks. My mind raced trying to find a definitive answer that didn't leave me looking or feeling shallow. The best I could come up with was the nifty advent calendars we use to read every night before going to bed. You know, the ones with the little windows and the "divine" chocolate you get, marking the victory of patiently, and some times not so patiently, sitting through the story. But, that happened years ago...like ten years ago. Then I realized I didn't have any real traditions or special methods of bring Christ into the world. Of course there are the services and carols and other highly marketed Christmas musts, but personally there is nothing. So much of the month is focused on year-end quotas, dodging Christmas Crazies (as I have deemed them) while shopping, and finding that one perfect gift for the twenty some odd people on my list. But, were does that leave the birth of the Messiah? Trying smiling after figuring that out.

I am not saying I am completely void of spirituality around this time of year. Far from it, in fact. But there is not that one thing I long to do or wait for... Right now I am listening to the KLOVE radio station on-line. They are playing Heart of Worship. One of may favorites. The verse goes "I am coming back to the Heart of Worship and it is all about you, it's all about you Jesus. I'm sorry Lord for the thing I've made, cause it's all about You." Talk about perfect timing, or God's presence in your life even when you don't know it. Wrapped in that blanket of Love and Grace. Man it's amazing. I have to listen to the end of the song... Wow, awesome...Time to make a change.

So, I shout it now from the mountain top, or the Top of my office chair...Family beware, this year I am introducing a Christ centered tradition for years to come. Now I don't know what it is going to be just yet, mostly because I just sat down today and started typing, but I will have one, and next year I am going to add another one. Eventually buying presents, work, and the Christmas Crazies will only be a by product of the Coming Of Christ, God the Son, the Messiah. Oh, yeah.


Now, I leave you with the First Wish of a Happy Christmas, from Mine/Me, to Yours: I call this Home Cooking.

"It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year"

I have learned the much needed lesson of retail suicide. What in world is he talking about you might ask, (and if you don't ask that, then don't read, go to the website for the criminally boring)? Retail Suicide is what I call it when you decide to abandon the "mom and pop" stores and shop only at the Megga-Bigg-One Stop shops. But this suicide is not year round, it only starts after a certain point in the year. Christmas is what you are thinking, right? Nope much earlier than that. It begins when the first Christmas decorations, knick-knacks, and Crap hits the shelf. And this year the winner is Big Lots, with Christmas on aisle three in the middle of October. Yeah, I know it's now Dec and I am just now calling the Lots out on it, but I have been busy, and truthfully we know the "real" cluster starts the weekend before Thanksgiving. But October, I mean damn, what about, Oh I don't know, Halloween, All saints Day, veteran's Day, Thanksgiving, not to mention numerous other bank and foreign holidays? What I want to see is merchandising push for Boxing Day, or Rashasona (cause that's fun to say), or the Revolution Anniversary (Nov 20th in case you didn't know). I could sport a t-shirt saying "Down with Tea leaves Up with south of the border imported beans that determine if people have a good day or not." I mean, that's a catchy slogan. Imagine it in green or light blue or better yet, in Cream...Get it Cream? That's what I want to see. Not that I am anti Christmas. By no means is that the truth. I just don't remember a Season When I have been so busy, it is about to drive me MADDD! But I digress.

Retail Suicide. Let me play it out for you. Now part of the Retail Suicide (RS) is my own fault, and I know this, admit it, and think about changing it, but it is so much easier to complain. My first mistake happened on November 23rd. I, forgetting the next day was Thanksgiving, went to work out around 4pm. During my run I thought about what most people do when they are exercising...eating, namely what's for dinner. Well I was having a Martha Stewart moment and wanted to make a casserole with some left overs, but realized I was one ingredient short. So when they kicked me out of the gym, at 5pm, I thought I would just swing by and pick up that one item on my way home. Sweaty, cold, and in a hungry rush, I went to Brookshires. After I dodged three old ladies with full carts and two three year olds with candy induced foaming of the mouth I realized I was at a super market the night before Thanksgiving, after work had left out. My first response was, What a Dumb Butt am I, my second thought was, I really look like crap. As I winded my way from aisle to aisle, mad that I was going to have to stand in line for one item, I vowed I was not going to make that mistake again, but...

Tonight I decided to go the epitome of Cramped, bustling, Mega centers. The Tas Mahaj of retail. That's right Wal Mart. At five o'clock I hit the road to get groceries, because the are cheap and I want to spend my money on your Christmas presents. Boy, brains and timing are not my friend this time of year. Busy, yes, loud, yes, obnoxious, yes, border line ridiculous, no full out ridiculous. Fortunately I keep a well detailed layout of Walmart in my glove compartment. I know which aisles to stop at, which ones to avoid and which ones it is best to park the cart and maneuver around the people. I was able to fight in and out of there in about 45 minutes. This was only due to the fact I caught a check out line as it was opening. But, seriously, screaming kids, ugly women, men in suits fresh from work hitting on soccer moms in there work out clothes, how awful is that. It makes my skin crawl to think of all the time wasted in that Labyrinth of commerce. Maybe it's my man brain but when I go in there I not there to dally. I get in, get what I need, and get the H-E-Double hockey sticks outta there. So do as I say, not as I do, order everything you need online, have them deliver, it will be much easier on your mind and soul. Just a friendly little PSA from you neighborhood neurotic.

David's Christmas Extravaganza

By the way, In case you are worried about the double purchasing of my Christmas presents via the wish list. I have decided to appoint a liason to keep track of all of your Holiday giving. Yeah, I know I am an obnoxious twit, but I don't care.

The List Liason is Sheila McCormick, the best lady ever, and her number is (318) 925-8628. Call her with purchased items and any questions. Thanks and Holly jolly yadda yadda.

Mississippi Mud, Star Pop, Pot, Crack, Meth,...

So, I think the ice cream man in our neighborhood is actually a drug dealer. Why you might ask? Well, Today at 4:45 and 60 degrees I heard the at first fun, then very very very annoying canned music of "Pop Goes the Weasel" (which I kid you not, the dog across the street actually howled, like on the cartoons, at the sound of this song). This can only mean one thing, the ice cream man is coming.

Now, no matter how old I get, when I hear that song I am instantly transported to back 1992. Sweat pouring from my face as I was usually running the sun baked streets with no supervision. My first summers of freedom and my daily snow cone. I would always ask the balding, mustached icecream man for a green snow cone with lots of juice. His response was always "Here's one to give you a heart attack," or "This will make you a diabetic." Words which ring truth now, but at 12, merely greek. But with a smiling face and sticky hands I would exchange my measly dollar pilfered from my mom's purse and would continue the afternoon with an occasional brain freeze and charging sugar high. But at the first hint of sub-85 weather the ice cream man would disappear like free beer at a Fraternity party. Hidden away unit the sun returned to beat down on us again.

Now that I am 26 I have traded in my green snow cone for Ultra Light Beer and my sun baked pavement for the gym track, but the song rings true even now. So imagine my surprise when I meet the ice cream man of today. The first time I heard the melodious chorus, I dug through my worn wallet and found an extra dollar. Impatiently waiting for him to finish with the kids down the street, I waited at the end of my drive. What am I going to get? What will a dollar buy now? I hope he has snow cones. These were the thoughts running through my head. But when he pulled up and I noticed enough gold in his mouth for fort knoxx to be jealous, my childhood memories were replaced with my limited street smarts. I should have figured it out when I learned over half of the items he had pictured on his truck were "sold out," but I guess my naivete took over. I settled for a plain ice cream sandwich, that was gone by the time I entered my home. I thought noting of it, until November of last year hit. I was sitting in my home, working, as per usual, when I heard the song again. I was quite perplexed as I was wearing a long sleeve shirt and socks, but the cold climate apparently did not surpress this entrepreneurs inner drive. Then as the next few weeks and month rolled on, I realized I was hearing the Ice Cream man more in January and Feb than in the typical summer months. Then discussing this with my neighbor it all fell into place. What a great convenient way to sell drugs. You have the cleaver rouse of the Mr. Rogers type, only out to "make the kiddies happy." But, really your have your own drug delivery route. As a business plan I find it quite ingenious, as a human being and a resident, I wonder how founded my theories are and what I should do about it. I could be wrong, but the pieces are there...More trips during colder months then hot, always out of a majority of the popular goodies, stereotypical (very) idea of your friendly, neighborhood drug dealer. Yeah, I think I am on to something here. What's next, a prostitution ring masked as a paper route. Is there no more decency left. Damn you Britney Spears

Next week I will be dissecting on how my local bar is really a Mafia front. Stay tuned.

Check Out My Christmas Wish List, Located Under Links

Watch for Periodic Updates!!

Underwear, Cops, and Jesus, is there nothing I won't talk about?

I thought I was busy when I was in Baton Rouge. Boy was I stupid! It seems that since I am not home, I am doing more than I knew I could. I am battling with those seemingly endless hurricane claims, in my normal area, and then there is the squeezing in of everything else I normally do, and even some things I don't. Tonight has actually been the first night have been home, and stayed home, before 8pm. I made dinner for myself, in my own kitchen (bite my butt take out), and have been able to do things I need to do. For example, I washed clothes (I was almost to the point of turning them inside out, or just going commando...gross I know you wanted that mental image). updated my blog...as you can plainly see, and now I am going to put in a movie and update some of my personal financial information. Man the life of a "grown up" is a riot. I am actually extremely happy about it though, weird, maybe, but I can live with your jeers and snickers behind my back.

Sunday night I came home to an empty home, which is not a problem at all, but something was a miss. I went to open the door only to find it ajar already. I didn't get upset, or scared, or nervous. I simple had a conversation in my brain. I did what you might consider a Cost Benefit analysis. Did I go in the dark, scarey home and yell for whom ever the hell was in there to get out and then maybe get shot? No. Do I run into my bedroom strap on my iron and do a military sweep of the home shouting clear in every room I check out and still maybe get shot? Tempting and maybe fun, but No. Do I cautiously walk away, call both roommates to only find out they have not been to the home for hours and hour, then call the cops? Yes, that's the ticket to stay off the Darwin award recipient list. I have to say I was impress. I did not call 911, but merely called the station, a number I have on speed dial. I gave my information and what I was wearing and then the nice lady on the other end said someone would be over. Now, I have heard the stories about the cops taking their sweet time to get to places, so I sat in my neighbor's front yard and watched and waited. To my surprise within three minutes three cars stealthily pulled on to my street. Hands on their holsters and flashlights at the ready, they surrounded the house and began to look for the perp (isn't cop jargon fun). Within five minutes of my call a K-9 cop and doggie arrived. They went through the house and found...nothing. Apparently one of us, Not Me, left the door slightly opened when they left earlier that day. Thankfully nothing was missing and nothing was out of place. The neighbor came out and I had the auspicious duty of explaining to them I am a whinny baby and I was afraid to go into my dark house alone. Not really, I figured it was better to call them and be better to be safe than sorry, cause I don't like to apologize. But it proved to be a little excitement to round out the night. Never a dull moment a the "youth hostel" (which is the current name of the house, careful, it can change without warning and when you call it the YH, I will have to reply with "Uh, that was sooo last winter." and you don't want me to bust you down like that. Oh, by the way I heard my mother say to some 0ne the other day "you just dissed my son." Now I am honored she would stand up for me when someone was frontin my like that, cause I don't like peeps up in my Kool Aid, but I don't use that term and to hear a 50+ woman say that makes me laugh).

So it's not easy to pour out the past few days into one post, but I have managed to hit the high points. Oh, I had a buddy of mine call me today to ask me who Jesus is to me. I love that. I am not the type of person to proactively evangilize to the masses. I try to lean to the more suttle methods of spreading the love, but when some one asks me, beware of the flood gates. I hope I helped him out, but even still to know I tried makes me feel good. Have a great night folks.

Knowing God vs. Knowing about God

What does that mean? To know too much about God has the potential for you to look down on those learning and searching, this lead to non Godly ways, among other negative connotations . Not knowing enough about God prevents you from having a deep and full relationship with Him. At which point does knowing about God comprise knowing God.

Meditation vs Prayer. Is there a difference? Apparently so, and I think the lost art of meditation is black eye on today's Christianity. Something I am going to try and remedy, with myself at least. But, finding time is the hard part. No excuses, taking five, ten minutes to actively listen and think of God as you mentally roll through the rolodex of ideas and concerns you have. It could be something as simple as online journaling...Hmmm...

Do you need a church to be a religious person? Is it necessary to attend a weekly or semi-weekly service? If not, where does the foundation of your faith come from? The jaded, redrafted scripts of Grade B movies? And, if you don't need to attend a church, are you not knowing enough about God and His people?

So many questions, not enough answers, this whole search thing is crazy, but I know it won't ever end. I see this "journey" as a constant teetering between to much and not enough, with an understanding I will never find that exact point were there is not more movement, a perfect balance if you will. That I am find with, because the journey is important and end justifies the means.

"This is the way we clean the house, clean the house...all the live long day."

As per my usual return to home tradition, I spent a good portion of the day cleaning. Some of you might not believe me, but I like to clean. I have a special routine that makes it almost fun ( cause if it was fun, I would be a world class tool, and now I am just a national class tool.) The key to enjoyable house cleaning is this...aren't you excited to know...don't you wish I would tell you already? OK, loud music. Pick one of you favorite CDs/Bands/cassette tapes/or Vinyls, turn it up so it pumps through the whole house and thus, over the vacuum. That way from any room or any vacuum you can hear the tunes. I also find cleaning the house is a good way to procrastinate other stuff. My main goal today was to clean and organize my office, so what did I do. I cleaned every other room and saved the office for last. I didn't want to do it, but after I ran out of rooms it got done. Mostly, it allows my mind to wonder and gives my hands something to do. I like being home.

No one is at the house right now and I am lonely. But, I think even if it was full of people I would seek out the quiet place and continue to be lonely, that's just the mood I choose to be in right now. It allows me to think and attempt to put things in perspective. But, I bought a new book today called Knowing God and I think I will start reading it now instead.

Last Post from South LA

I have something new to add to all the list of my hobbies and interests on those stupid canned applications and what not. People watching. A fun sport with many facets and sub levels to explore. I have said it before but I am just amazed at the diversity of people. Different interest contingent upon age, economic status, and relationship position. And when you think you have someone pegged, BAM! Out of left field comes the winds of change that level you. One such example is of an email sent to me by my Granny. She sent me an email of leaving work/returning to work personified by penguins and polar bears. It was a funny email and appreciated, but it made me think of the other emails I get in the same format. These usually come from my friends and have no where near the innocent intent of this particular one. I can picture her laughing as she sent these email out to family and friends, I can also picture my friends faces and comments as they sent others out to me. Both completely different, but both with my interest in mind. My interest...now there's a vast chasm of grayness to fill. As I change so do my interest. I want to believe when Granny was my age, she would have appreciated some of the content of the emails sent to me now (though, come to think of it, probably not, she had to be as nice and "Mary Poppins" back then as now). But, I find the jokes that made me laugh out loud back in the day (yeah, I know, I'm not old), barely even get a polite smirk now. I stick with stupid jokes that don't offend, unless you are a pirate. Don't believe me, give me a call when you have an hour and I will go through my portfolio. I am happy with the change.

I was discussing the merits of getting older with a "more seasoned" adjuster this afternoon. He brought up some good points. I think he is trying to pass his wisdom on to me, which is fine, cause I know how to listen or at least pretend to listen. When you waded through the pontification, there were some thought provoking words mixed in. Last night there were five of us sitting around in one of the rooms enjoying some adult beverages and mostly joking around. Then some how the conversation got turned to a religious nature. We had a relatively deep discussion and in the middle of it, I stopped and looked around. I said to myself "David, (cause that's what I call myself...low level humor I know, but hey no one's twisting your arm to read this, you just have to deal and hope I keep my asides to a few words instead of a few sentences. Guess I messed this one up.) this is an interesting group/situation to be doing this." No one was converted, no tongues spoken, but general ideas and philosophies shared. I noticed a similarity with the people here that I haven't seen in a while. As time goes by it is less like work associates, but more like a Franternity. Not a binge drinking, girl chasing, college stereotype. More like the ideal college Fraternity. Shared interests, similar goals, different backgrounds, and yeah, some beer. But there is also the support group, a place to vent on a bad day and advice for a difficult situation. Some people think I am crazy for not really wanting to come back, and maybe I am. But when I work alone 90% of the time and can go weeks without talking to a fellow employee or even a boss, I learn to appreciate the few times when that ring of connection is present. And I am not going to lie, the money is damn good too. But tomorrow I leave to go home and basically do the same thing I am doing here, by myself, and without the extra money kicker. From a business aspect it is the right decision, but from the peon, low man on the totem pole, it sucks. I have been doing this so long it has become habit and the "norm." So after tomorrow, the blog will probably be less about work and more about the other randomness running through my mind. And as I will be busy with more things the posts will inevidently be further apart. So, continue to check and read at you leisure, but don't expect much more than the lovely neuroses passed down to me from my crazy mom ( I heart you Mommy). Closing out on Denham Springs.

Homeward Bound...For Good

Well, I found out today they are sending me home on Friday. I don't have to come back, and to be honest, I am not exactly happy about it. They had to hire people outside of our company to work my normal territory in Shreveport, and they aren't doing enough work to justify their salary. So what does that mean. It means in order to save over $1,200 a day, they are making me leave and go home. I know the undertone of the post shows disappointment, which I am not going to lie, I am. I was excited about making the good scratch. I know of some people who will be happy I am home, and I guess I will be happy too.

I don't think it could have come at a better time. Today I climbed on a metal roof and with out looking I accidently bumped my head on the electrical wire connecting to the adjacent structure. No missing hair, or burned smell, but a deep breath and a quick prayer up to God.

Also with the recent vomiting and stomach pains, at least I can get better at home. So turn the light on, kill the fat chicken (not the one with the flu), cause Daddy's coming home to stay. Just don't get upset with me if you Christmas gift is not as good as it could have been, you can blame that on "The Man."

Jack Frost Can Bite My Butt

I noticed it immediately as I opened the door to my hotel room. There was something wrong. Something in the air. It became very apparent around 8am as I was standing on a rickety metal roof. It's friggan cold! Yesterday was nice, a light breeze to keep you going, but plenty of warmth in the sun. Today, however, like a thief in the night, the cold had robbed the beautiful weather, replacing it with teeth chattering cold.

Now, I know in southern Louisiana I have no right to complain about the cold. I have friends scattered above the mason Dixon line who have yet to feel how miserable they will be. But, standing on the roof in my short sleeve shirt brought to my realization, I didn't bring any long sleeves with me. Well, I take that back, I did bring one old, thin cotton shirt with long sleeves. This shirt however is not what you would call the pit bull of the wind blockers. That being said, when I got back to the hotel I immediately put my pathetic excuse for warm clothes on. That lasted about an hour. Then I got my unhappy butt in the car and went and purchased a fleece. Now I will be happy and warm. So bring on the cold, I'm ready.

Cause Oscar Mayer has a Way with B-0-L-O-G-N-A

When I was a younger David, I had a youth counselor who would tell us that the key to being good leaders with the younger campers was to remember two words. Patience and Tolerance. She use to tell us to ask God for Patience and Tolerance. This was something I used a lot during that weekend, and it is something I have kept using over the years. Very often the words "God, please grant me Patience and Tolerance," have been uttered under my breath. I was explaining this to someone I worked with on a previous job and she mentioned in her opinion this would cause God to test her patience and tolerance more. After that conversation I wonder if she was right. I find myself asking for patience and tolerance more and more as the days go by. The need for it gets bigger and the regular amount just doesn't cut it. But, I invite the challenge of the journey to Patience and Tolerance. There will never be enough, and this I know, but I am not afraid of the work to get there.

The town I am working in currently is in the middle of their big fair. They say every year around this time the fair comes to town. This make sense for even as I little boy I knew this. I knew this because of the many ridiculous task my mother made me do. Her response to my protests of things being unfair was always the same. "Life is not fair, the fair is what comes at the end of October." Boy my parents get smarter the older I get, and not just in the terms of revelry. Anyway, some one asked me if I would be partaking of the events. I thought it best to skip the gathering of a bunch of people who I have probably made mad over the last couple of months. Lord knows they would all be there with the torches and pitch forks. So instead, we convinced the boss to let us cook out in the hotel parking lot. Free food, good fun, low key. That's what I am talking about. The weather was great and since I don't have to work tomorrow it was pretty dawg gone nice.

I am thinking today was a good day for the animal kingdom. I had an ecounter with a huge banana spider ( my third biggest fear if you are keeping count), a dog who thought the best place to sleep was in the middle of the road, and a cat who thought my car was comfortable. The spider bout made me tinkle in my pants, the dog couldn't be moved despite the shooing, yelling, and horn. The cat traveled the length of my car and decided the most comfortable place was my windsheild looking in. He was at the zoo and I was the caged animal. I almost had to teach the cat a thing or two about the food chain. But as most cat do, he lost interst pretty quickly. Which is a good thing, for I know many a relative who would have been more than happy to bring that cat home. Any many more who would be less than happy to recieve yet another pompous feline. I don't know what was in the air, but the animals were out in full force.

I decided yesterday I was going to grill tonight. I was going to buy a grill, set it up in the parking lot, and cook some meat. Those primortial urges men get sometimes. Truthfully the weather is great and I am tired of eating out (working on fifty something nights in a row). The idea was like a bug and before I knew it, everyone was in and the company bought all the neccesaties. Very few things are better than grilled food, except maybe free grilled food. Burgers, sausage, and boudin. Good time had by all. The reason we did it is beacuse of the company giving us tomorrow off. No one has to work. We have been working hard and we deserve it. The light at the end of the tunnel is but a mere match in the dark. Soon that will change to a lantern, and eventually the light of the train taking me home. Home...I have given up not calling the hotel home anymore. It happens at least once a day. But, I keep the positive attitude. I am doing fine, "you know rocking and rolling and what not." A dollar to the first person who can tell me what movie that quote is from. Until then, gaurd your voice mail from old commerical jingles and disney songs.

So, I just wrote most of this over agian, because I am having trouble with it posting. I lost most of it once. I know the second draft is not like the first, but close enough. So, I am not running spell check and if it doesn't go through now, I will be playing frisbee with my laptop. Have fun picking out the spelling errors.

Up is Down, Down is Up

So this was sort of a wierd day. I don't quite to know what to make of it. It wasn't bad, not really good, but just odd. It started at 7:30am with older gentleman I woke up. He knew I was coming, and he knew what time. Apparently, he didn't think the money train (that's me) was worth waking up for. So, after lots of knocks and a couple of calls, he comes to the door...In his underwear. Yeah, so he puts on clothes and we proceed to walk around the home to see the damages. I am looking at the house and doing the usually chit chat. I hear an oddly familiar noise and I turn around to see this man peeing in the middle of his back yard. Now, most of you all have, at one time or another, urinated outdoors, but how many of you have done it infront of some one you just met five minutes earlier. Needless to say, I was running for the anti-bacteria lotion after that one.

Then there was the really, really nice couple who wanted to dissect every letter of there policy. I couldn't help but laugh as the conversation shifted to hobby farms and then...yes Pygmy Goats. That's what they wanted, goats to make cheese and soap and other bohemian things I have only heard out to the mouth of my dear crazy mother. They were fun.

Then there was the dog that decided it didn't like me. I have never been afraid of those little pouches, and this fellow was no different. I pet him after his master calmed him down. Then I stopped and she turned her back, at this point he wanted his true hatred to come through, and he bit me. That little SOB bit me at the knee, didn't break the skin, but I sure did almost kick that dog through the wall.

I finished the day off with a 86 year old man who has had four hip replacements. He waddled around like weebles. He was telling me how his wife wouldn't let him have a ladder or doing anything. I had to agree with her, but what he lacked in mobility he made up for in spunk. His wife could out talk Bob Costas when it came to sports. I tell you a 86 year old female sports fan. Crazy.

I also found out I have been authorized to get a new car. Now I have the daunting task of telling the company how poorly I have taken care of the one I have now. My biggest company fears have now come to fruition. Lucky Me. My choices are between at Ford 500 or a Impala. I'm kinda leaning toward the new Impala, I do like the new design. So, lets have a little pole and you guys can tell me what you think. Tomorrow is my day off and I will be sleeping for most of it. I can't wait.

So, I just spent about twenty minutes writing some ramblings about some, what I like to think is, pretty insightful junk. Yes junk. But when I went to spell check it, because I have inherited my father's ablity to spell, it wasn't there and I can't find it. I don't feel like rewriting it, so you must make due with five sentences, the last of which updating you on me. I'm tired, I hate people, and I'm going to bed.

Surgeon General's Warning- Following is Gross and Should Not be Read if you have a weak stomach, taking heart medicine, or pregnant with child

When it comes to people I have two views, depending on the interaction. I either love people or I hate people. When I say people I mean everyone in general. I sometimes switch moods faster than a pregnant woman. I have recently discovered this job is all about the people. My mother was worried about the different things I would see while I was working in South Louisiana. I think she was more concerned over the structural damage and exasperation of people. I don't think she was taking into consideration the personalities of people. The term melting pot doesn't quite describe it. I would say it is more like a sub culture upchucking.

Some of the people I have met would send you into a spiral of hate, fear, and prejudice, while others give you hope and reassurance. I am not singling out a particular race or economic status. For both ends of the spectrum lie on all varieties of color, creed, money, etc. Some make you think, "What the Deuce, get me the hell outta here." Needless to say, some of the most disturbing things I have experienced, I can attribute to these everyday folks.

For example, today I adjusted a claim on man who has been in the hospital for two months with a staff infection. As I was mid sentence explaining the thousands of dollars I was about to give him, he thought it prudent to show me his "wounds." With out invitation and before I could protest, he was hiking up his shorts and showing me the cuts on his leg, up to and including his danglies, where the doctors had to scrape out infections. Needless to say, it was difficult finishing the explanation of the estimate with a mouthful of bile. That will Haunt Me.

Then there was our Darwin Award Nominee mentioned earlier in the blog, who thought it prudent to go out side during 100+ mile an hour winds. Well we know what disfiguring memento he will be showing the family on Christmas morning. That will Haunt Me.

Then there was the 350 pound diabetic man who stubbed his toe. As I was looking around his kitchen fire (which he didn't tell his wife about, and she was mad, I mean MAD) making notes, he preceded to recount the events to me. I was interjecting my "Uh Huhs," and my "Reallys?" but not exactly paying attention. When I turned around to face him, I found his big, nasty, black, smelly, gross foot in the air, as if I was to magically make it all better. Another gag reflex. That will Haunt Me.

Lastly, (for I could go on for a while) there was the 12 year old girl. Like most girls her age she liked boys, movies, and other stuff they teach you about when they separate the girls and boys in gym class. She came home after school one day, mom was at work. Yes, she was a latch key kid, but most of us all have the memory when we were big enough to stay alone, and even though we said we loved it, it really scared the crap out of us...I digress. Well, with mom not getting home till late, she was hungry. She decided she was going to make her and her cousins some tater tots. You guessed it, with grease. Now, as bright as she might be, no one told her that water only agitates a grease fire (this is where it gets bad). She was afraid of burning the home down, so she grabbed the burning pan and ran it outside. In the process she spilt grease on the floor, the carpet, and worst of all, on her self. Third degree burns on her legs and arms. As I was taking pictures my heart went out for this girl. The doctors said she would eventually be fine, with little to no scaring, but the pain I couldn't imagine. She was nice and cute and as I was looking at the burns and listening to her story, I had to fight back the vomit. That will Haunt Me.

Now you may be thinking I have a weak stomach and I say I do. But, now you know why I am not a doctor or anything where I have to see icky stuff everyday. Every now and then is even more than I would like to handle. Getting back onto point, People are amazing. Always something new and ever changing.

"I want to be a living, Sanctuary for You."

Most people have a memory that when reflected on you remember all the details. The smells, the sounds, the feelings stirred from the particular memory. Some times these memories produce a happy/warm feeling inside which carries you through the day all smiles. But, sometimes those feelings are lonely, scary, and of disbelief. Ones where a sense of helplessness and finality reside. Yesterday I went into the flooded section of New Orleans.

My roommate, Drew Sutton, has been charged with taking video and creating a few short films on the damages in New Orleans and the affect on the Methodist Churchs. Having seen most of Drew's previous movies, I am sure this one will also be amazing. He asked Elizabeth and I if we would go to New Orleans while he filmed some of the damages. He didn't want to go by himself and I really wanted to see the city. So we left around noon on Saturday.

As we were driving through Metarie I was thinking to myself, "This isn't so bad, there are people everywhere, everything has electricity, I've seen this before." Then we cross a bridge to the area where the levee broke. It reminded me of The Wizard of Oz in reverse. Remember back to how impressed you were when Dorothy left the house to the Colorful world of OZ. First movie in color and everything was new and exciting and fun. This was like walking from a world of color and cheer to a world of greys, browns, and blacks. No cheer, no smiles, nothing green around. Just in the span of a thirty yard bridge made the difference from utter destruction and no problems. At that point I knew I had seen nothing like this before.

To write about everything I saw would take too long, and I am sure you will have your opportunity to buy a I survived Katrina book from you local Walmart before too long. I just want to hit a couple of highlights. There was a pile of debris 30 feet high and 70 feet long on the side of the road. It was a mountain of trees. Every house had at least four feet high pile of the guts of their home next to the curb intermingled with years worth of possessions. Every structure had water lines, usually 6-12 of them, for miles we traveled. The further in we went the fewer people we saw.

We checked out a bunch of churches, inside and out, to see the damage. Sanctuaries covered in mold, pews overturned, and ancient organs twisted and broken. It was enough to make your heart hurt. We came across a Methodist Hymnal with at least 15 different colored molds. We of course wore mask, which in itself puts you in a somber mood knowing you don't dare take it off for fear of catching some ten syllable disease.

The term Sanctuary has, to me, always meant more than a place to have worship service on Sunday mornings. I see it as a place of safety and an impenetrable fortitude from the dangers and distractions of the "outside" bustle. A place where you can always find God, and He is always ready to bear the burden of your heart. But to see what water can do to the House of God is mind blowing. Water is a central theme in the bible, usually signifying a cleaning, or renewal for what it comes in contact. This was definitely not the case.

"Lord Prepare me to be a Sanctuary, pure and holy, tried and true." These are the words to one of my favorite praise songs. This reassures me a Sanctuary is not drywall, concrete, and a wooden cross, but a place where nothing bad can destroy it. When the Sanctuary is in you, there's no harm that can come to it. We met someone who is a member of St. Lukes Church in NO. He is a contractor and through God speaking to him one night at a worship service, he has decided to rebuild the church. He wants it to be the first building rebuilt, so the church can be the center of the community. He has already started and his enthusiams is Amazing. He has the energetic, contagious personality that will get the Church rebuilt in no time at all. He is the perfect example of a Living Sanctuary for all those willing can find and use. To see some good from all the bad helps to assimilate all the negative and know there is that silver lining.


Now, I know my thoughts have been random and not to my usual standard of eloquence, but in situations like this, raw, unreprised emotions are more suited. . . So, my camera's battery died before I could take too many pictures, but at least I have some.

The Bald Man's Part

I found out the parish I am working in is the poorest parish in the state of Louisiana. I can understand it as I have seen some of it first hand. Today was a pretty interesting day, I laughed a lot, both with the insured and at them (and not necessarily behind their back). But over all it was pretty good. I did one learn one important lesson, though. When there is a hurricane over you trailer, you don't go out and stand in it. No matter what you think you need to do, don't. Just find a place with no windows, put your head between you legs and kiss your a$$ goodbye.

Now, if you don't heed my advice, be it on you own head, literally...

Because, 18 staples, one ruptured disk in back, two MRIs, and constant pain is nothing compared to having you bald head spread around on the internet.

Happy Rosh Hashanah Everyone

Today is the beginning of Rash Hashanah, according to the desk calendar my sister gave me for Christmas. She better give me another one this year, it was one of the few "amenities" I brought from home. People have been complaining because I haven't posted anything in a while, and when I say people, I mean my mother. Way to live up to the stereotype mommy.

So, Star Date...36...and all...is...going along...fine...and...dandy (that's my literary attempt to badly, imitate the pause acting of the famous, and now rather fat, William Shatner, but with his new music CD out he'll be ok). I haven't posted anything lately because I have been extremely busy. I have however gotten a lot accomplish in the past couple of days, but when you literly start working at 6:30am and stop at 9:30pm, pausing only for dinner, you get stuff done. But it hasn't all been work.

Last Friday the big wigs came in and took all of us on a boat cruise and to a restaurant/bar for the evening. I won $150 gift certificate to Best Buy on the boat trip. That was pretty neat. I think our company thinks the only way to please us is to shove free booze down our throats. I suppose it works for some, but not everyone. There was that one guy who got smashed and started calling the vice president of the company some not so nice things. He didn't remember any of it the next day. But I did some good networking and found out some interesting information.

From Katrina we had received, up to last weekend, 16,000 claims. I'm going to write that out for you for a more dramatic effect, sixteen thousand claims. This is for the five offices scattered around the coast. That is a hell of a lot of claims, a HELL of a lot of claims. As of last weekend, one month from the storm, we had closed/inspected 9,000 of those claims. Pretty good by anybody's standards. I am very impress with out output. That being said...

I am surprised by the condition of the cities in my territory. This far out from when it hit and it still seems as if little has been accomplished. Most people have electricity, but the towns still look in total disarray. It looks close to the same as one week after the storm. This just indicates the amazing magnitude of the hurricane. I have heard rumors of St. Benard Parish being bull dozed, yeah the whole parish. They are taking it a zip code at a time and saying, "Aint' no way we can fix dis here place." Drew, my roommate, has been in New Orleans with our pastor for the last couple of days filming and helping out. He has been telling me stories of people, damages, and areas that made it. It's pretty crazy stuff. The people are being nice, but the media is killing me. You would think the only people affected are the ones who are poor, black, and given up on by society. They weren't the only ones affected, as you all know, they just don't do anything but complain because...you know what, I am not going to subject you to that rant, if you want to know how I feel you can call me. I want to introduce you all to my new Denham Springs girlfriend. If I'm not with Elizabeth, I'm with her. I call her Jasmine




Anybody have the nubmer to Rogaine?

Back to the Grind

Well today marked the first day back, and I started it out with bang, or a boom I should say. Earlier today I was on a roof damaged by the hurricane. The people had already put some tarps over the roof and it had collected some early morning dew. The equation of a wet plastic plus gravity combined with last night's Chinese buffet yielded a painful result. You see, I keep my camera in my back pocket when I am working, and when my feet flew up and my butt went down...well you get the gist. Although I did not fall completely off the roof,I landed on my camera with a nice boom that resonated through the house(or so I was later told). I think I have bruise the size of my hand on my butt, I only wish I could check and see. I find myself essentially chasing my tail as I turn round and round to see the extent of the damage.

Our company has already closed around 50% of the Katrina claims we have had reported. This is an amazing feat with some companies not having anyone out here looking at homes at all. As a means of thanks, the company is taking all the adjusters on a boat cruise this Friday. Free food and booze, and options for gambling. I don't know about the gambling or booze, but I am all about the free food. The night gets finished off with a catered Cajun meal. That's what they tell us. What I hear is you don't have to work Friday and Saturday. Now that is thanks enough, everything else is, as they say in the Harlem school yard, all gravy. With the rate things are going, and everything is subject to change, we can have Katrina finished in 4 to six weeks. Then I can focus on Rita. Let's hope nothing else come through between now and then.

Weathering Rita

Board/Card Games Played - 8
Changes of clothes by evacuee, (because of being wet)- 6
Urban Kayak Trips - 4
Accidents during Urban Kayaking - 1
Pages of Book Read - 67
Run-Ins with Police -2
Negative Comments said to cops - 4
Times Rearranged Living room - 3
Minutes used discussing changes to living room - 128
Times People yelled at each other - 7
Being at home with friends and family - priceless

Furlough

As defined by Webster:

Main Entry: 1fur·lough
Pronunciation: 'f&r-(")lO
Function: noun
Etymology: Dutch verlof, literally, permission, from Middle Dutch, from ver- for- + lof permission; akin to Middle High German loube permission -- more at FOR-, LEAVE
: a leave of absence from duty granted especially to a soldier; also : a document authorizing such a leave of absence

As defined by David:

(in a singsong voice)...I get to go home, I get to go home, I get to go home.

Ah, yes, finally an opportunity to return home and take care of some business and much needed rest. I left Baton Rouge last night and drove around the storm, arriving in Shreveport around 9:30pm. Now I have three full days of not having to work, and one more day of travel to get back down. That's right, I have to go back and workagainn for another undetermined amount of time. But that I can handle.

I came home last night to meet a large group of my friends at the house. It feels good to be home. So, you may not here much from me in the next couple of days, but don't worry, I am no longer in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and Rita, no, now I am right in the middle of it.

Mass Exodus

Yeah, it is mass exodus here for the adjuster. Before you get your hopes up, I am not one of those adjusters. We have lost a slew of people in the past couple of days as Rita nears Texas. They are going home to batten down the hatches and prepare for the after math of the storm. One of the adjuster's here now, has his home in the worst possible place of Houston. His wife has evacuated and he is sitting around trying to keep himself busy, but still worrying. I haven't heard much on the company's position on all of this, but I know we don't have many more adjusters to work, storms or regular territories. Rumors of gas shortages and FEMA taking over certain stations have been rampant. Gas is starting to become more difficult find. Gotta love it.

Today I became the bad guy. Honestly I am surprised it has taken this long. I have been listening to the news, radio stations around here for updates on Rita and, God forbid, something outside the world of Katrina. I have had little success with the latter, but I have sure heard lots of complaints from the "Salt of the Earth." But, today began the bitching about the adjuster's and insurance companies and how we are here on our own behalf with disregard for the policy holders. How people haven't heard from us or something went wrong that we have no control over. It was all I could do to not call this radio station and give them a good piece of my mind on behalf of the Red Cross, FEMA, and Us. People sitting there, not making any effort to help themselves, giving death threats and spitting on the Red Cross volunteers. Now tell me, with my taxes going to these people who refuse to help themselves, your donations and, not to mention my time, who is the real bad guy? (I am getting all worked up as I type this, banging on the keys of my poor defenseless computer)

However, one thing the radio personalities said today that I liked was "This will bring out the best in good people, and the worst in the bad people." Sure enough, and the media only adds fuel to the fire. As time goes by and tempers flare, not even the good people can be the best for long. But, thanks to everyone for the encouraging emails and notes. I appreciate it. Don't worry about me, I am doing just fine. It sometimes takes a quick outburst to relax yourself. Tomorrow is my day off, well deserved. Quanta La Gusta!

The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth

Not much new going on here. I am spending most of my time debating if ignorance should be a punishable crime. But then I realize even I am ignorant at many things (now I know that is hard to believe). So, I just pull the dwindling reserve of patience I have and take a swig of the bitter reality of my position. Mmm tastes like Caster oil, with the active ingredient of humility, of which I could use more. More than once I have heard the phrase "God's Country" and "Salt of the Earth," usually mentioned in a sarcastic overtone. However, you don't get much more down and out than some of the things I have seen. This, in-turn, makes me think of Plato's
Allegory of the Cave, and I wonder if these people have ever had an opportunity to see what the outside of there own scope of reference. Predisposition to a good life. Doctor's and Lawyers are more likely to make more doctor's and lawyer's. Contractor's make Contractor's, and government assistance is hereditary. Granted all of these are generalizations and there are anomalies to every instance. But, this can and does get battled everyday, with valid points on both sides. So, I will leave this to the politicians, sociologist, and those with more time than myself, to wage these verbal wars of value of living. Pursuit of life, liberty, and the easy money, or so it seems some days.

But, enough of that. I finally have another day off starting tomorrow evening around six. I can't tell you how much sleep I am looking forward to catching up on. This soon to arrive day has been able to push me over a hump and help me to center on my third wind. You may ask how many winds are typical? I couldn't tell you, first let us find a storm deemed "typical."

I'll call him Alectryon, for that is better than Cock

It is pretty safe to say morale is quickly approaching rock bottom with everyone here. Everyone is reaching an average of 15 days away from the norms of everyday life. If you couldn't read it on the wordless faces of the people you pass, just ask them how they are and that is the first topic of conversation. Normally this would just bounce off me like the super ball, but today was an especially difficult day workwise. As I count my days on the diminishing supply of Charmin I brought with me, I feel myself start to wane. So, now I have resigned to be moody and temperamental like my cohorts. My two issues are energy and frustration. Energy because I don't appear to have any and frustration because I have too much. Normally in situations like this I would go work out, but now I mostly just pace in my room or walk laps around the balcony. More interesting info I found out. They haven't decided what to do with us yet. I keep trying to get them to tell me when they are going to start letting some of us go home, but nothing "set in stone" has be conceived. Now they are talking about sending some of us home for a few days and then making us come back for another tour of duty. That's going to bring some muteness behavior worthy enough to impress Jean Laffite. (there's a local hero around these parts for you) But, I am searching for that third wind now. Amazing how a couple of implaced words can bring you crashing down. Never to fear I shall persevere.

Let me leave you with what I had to walk through to get to a claim today. I thought I was going to have to whoop a little booty, but apparently they were scared of me, must be the facial hair, works on babies too.

This was an awesome old bridge I came across the other day. It sits about 25 feet above this white sand creek. I stopped my car in the middle of the road and walked back across it. You could smell the rust from the beams and the tar from the railway ties. This is something I always pictured being in the mountains or on Fried Green Tomatoes. I only wish I had time to take better pictures.

Disclaimer: Possible Nonsense and Venting Ahead...I'm Tired!

Argh, I just been sitting here trying to think of an eloquent way to place the jumbled mass of thought swimming in my brain on this post. But, I say to hell with that. You people are just going to have to deal with a little confusion and maybe a colorful word or two. (nothing worse than hell though, I will keep this PG rated...for now)

So the man running this office is a work friend of mine. He trained me, so I know him pretty well. He and I are a lot alike, despite the age difference. Now I wonder if it better to be in this situation with some one you know or with some one you don't. His 17 years with this company has yielded much advice, help, and constructive critism, but being in his confidences has also been a pain in the (PG rating, not PG-13, so you have to fill in the blank yourself...). I am the one who finds out the bad stuff first, like the mandatory 4 week stay and other not as interesting to you things. However, I am trying to decided if the perks out weigh the cons? For example I am one of the only ones with my own hotel room, a big feat because I am the least experience, but I don't brag to people about that. I get the juicy gossip on the other adjusters, which makes me fell better about the job I am doing, and I get to do special assignments. That is as much a pro as a con. I have to write a report on the new Catastrophe database we are using. Which means I must document my experience with it over the next week and submit it. Granted I will have no problem with this but I don't need anymore work. However this will look good to the big boss man. Good and Bad, Good and Bad, Good and Bad. So be it, I will teeter on the balance of no sleep, too much sun, and fear of being eaten by a dog for more money and personal glory. Just ask Maslow, American dream here I come.

Wowzers, Batman

Imagine you are in your late sixties, (or if you already are, I guess you don't have to imagine) and you have worked hard to make you home and yard look nice. You decided to move your manufactured home to an area with lots of shade, big pine trees, old oak trees, the home just embedded in the splendors of nature. You keep your yard nice and neat, you put a chainlink fence around to protect your property and allow you to see what you have achieved at a glance. You go as so far as to add a new roof and new storage shed where you piddle around with tools and other "man" things. You are on a fixed income and are happy with life. Then one day you hear of this terrible hurricane coming at you. Well, with little time to prepare anything, you hope for the best, go to the local church (which doubles as the shelter), say a few prayers, and bury your head as the eye of the storm passes over you.

You walk home, unable to drive down the street because of all the fallen trees. As you are walking you keep second guessing yourself and your significant others want for a fortress of tress and cursing nature. The lengthy walk home builds up anticipation and apprehension with every weary step. You stop in front of where you home is suppose to be, eyes shifting, searching like wild animal for a way out of a cage. You can't see you home because of the 27 trees blown over in your yard(literally, I counted them all). Finally after fighting and prying the sap laden trees apart you find your home to have three trees resting on it uneasily. Your front door is no longer the beaker of welcome for you children, grandchildren, and friends that it once was. Now it mocks you as the dangerous enemy you never get too close to, waiting to snap and creek with you inside. You realize your home is broken, much like you heart at this moment. With sad desperation you do what you can to move personal affects from the home, throwing away most of it. All you can do now is wait for the insurance money so you can start all over again. You wonder if all those years of premiums will yield a return enough to bring you back to the standard of living you had prior to the Worst Natural Disaster in this countries history. The answer...No, you don't, but a positive attitude and family that cares, is the right start to putting things back together.

This little old couple owned this home. They did not have enough insurance to cover what they had put into the home, they will probably loose thousands and thousands of dollars worth of property, time, and effort because of the storm. When I met with them you couldn't tell if they were in a bad spot or not. They were all smiles, thank-your, and very hospitable. We went next door to a relatives house where they served me the best sweet tea I could handle on a 90+ degree day. They filled out the appropriate paperwork, I gave them their check, and bade them good luck. I will, more than likely, never see them again. But with all the bad that has happened to them, they have still maintained the keys to making it through. Smiles and Positive attitudes. I am not going to go into some PSA about how you need to have a good attitude and smiles are contagious and all that cliche, repetitive crap. But, I find the fortitude of people amazing everyday. God sure knew what He was doing.

Bye Bye Fun

The novelty has worn off. Can't be said anymore simply than that. Peaked at 13 days. This affliction is known as the two week stare. The time when you have eaten out more than you care to and everything begins to run together and you can't tell homes and insured apart. You just silently look into the distance with no real thoughts in you mind. I think the real straw that broke the camel's back was the "no end in sight" undertones I receive from the coordinators when I interject the X amount of days till I go home quips. But, alas, I must make the best of it, bury my head, and force through the work. The work, itself, has increased dramatically and is no longer the easy walk in the park I have was settling in to. No, now it involves 3 hours of windshield time and tens of thousands of more dollars. I have already issued around 75 checks since I have been here. To quote and old business professor of mine, "that's a chunk of change."

Yet, I am definitely the youngest person here. Youngest by age (as I usually am at any corporate gathering) and youngest by experience. This is the small fish in the large pond surrounded by bigger fish, nastier predators, and out numbered by the worms two dozen to one senario that has become cliche. This in itself makes things more challenging. I am dealing with adjusters who have been doing this for 15 years, actually I think the next person who has been working with the company for the least amount of time has six years under his belt. My year and a half is but a mere drop in the bucket for these people. This is good because of the experience they can pass along, but I can't help but think they look down upon me for being a neophyte. I don't know why, they are all very nice, with the cockiness developed by years in this business. Maybe it is my lack of confidence that brings me to this conclusion. This lack of confidence could be a result of the magnitude of time consuming claims and devastation I am seeing and hearing about. I know this is unlike what I have done before any other storm, then again, it could just be lack of sleep. Whose to know, but at least I have this blog to vent my thoughts and direct me in the line of acceptance. Tomorrow I am going to wake up and catch that second wind until it brings me home.

More is yet to come

Thanks for all the birthday wishes. I appreciate all the calls and warm thoughts. They changed my territory today, so it's going to get a bit more interesting. There are power lines down everywhere, whole fields of trees are leaning or cut down about ten feet up. Helicopters are constantly flying over. This is unlike any hurricane damage I have ever seen and I not even talking about the hard hit areas. So, stay tuned in and would put some good stuff up. Thanks again for all the birthday thoughts.

Love Is In the Air

Yes, love is definitely in the air, but not the love you see in movies or even some of the novels with the half naked people on the cover (you know the ones where the man's hair is longer than the women's and if it wasn't for the steroid chiseled abbs you couldn't tell who was whom). The love I have seen comes in the special form of bugs. Millions of love bugs have come to mate in the aftermath of the storm. Who would have guessed 175 mile an hour winds could be considered foreplay. Nevertheless, these bugs are butt-to-butt and everywhere. I am sure they are spawning questions in the minds of 3 and 4 years old. Questions parents dread even when the kids reach the teenage years. But thanks to the discovery channel and National Geographic at least there are teaching aids.

Mostly I'm glad college football has started. Not because of some unnatural allegiance I have for a university I never went to, but because it means there is something else on the TV besides Katrina coverage. I actually stopped watching television last Friday. I couldn't watch it any more. I see enough depressing living situations and filth already, that by the end of the day I can't take anymore. Not that I don't get constant updates from the people I talk with. A buddy of mine, I was his best man, went home yesterday, after not being allowed into Slidell, to see the condition of his house. This is the first house he bought for him and his wife. I haven't been able to get in touch with him for the result. Another friend of mine had a place in Waveland, MS. We had all gone there for a weeks vacation a couple of years ago. He told me yesterday his camp house was gone, nothing there. His camp was fully furnished, nicer than most of the places I see everyday. Totally wiped away.

Houses are being sold over the phone, Baton Rouge has doubled in size, places all over LA are being snatched up for businesses and homes. I am toying with the idea of selling my home for a huge profit and moving back in with Mom and Dad. They said when I moved out I would always have a place at their home, and by being the oldest and smartest (yeah I said it,Laura and Sarah), I would eventually end up dealing with it at some point. So why wait for the inheritance, I will just take it now. I wonder if my parents could handle me? I wouldn't be the only 26 year old living at home, and I am the favorite. Don't worry these are mere petty threats...Maybe.

Two sheds were no match for Two giant old oak trees

It was the Best of Times, It was the Worst of Times

The picture below was one of the fairly minor claims I have inspected over the past couple of days. One of many...many trees on homes I have seen since arriving here. I also saw a 10,000 square foot metal building, well, I saw one wall and a few metal I-beams. That was all that was left. Trees broken in half twenty feet up have become the norm.

Today I learned about convenience. Still fuming about having to use dial-up internet, I left the hotel this morning at 6:15. I then waited in line to buy gas, only ten minutes, nothing compared to prime times. From that point I drove the 40 minutes to where my first claim was located, eating my cold bagel and drinking my Frappacino (coffee flavored, I don't mess around with frilly mocha or vanilla). Finding the location was not difficult at all, thanks to the handy dandy GPS sitting on my dashboard connected to my computer. This program even tells me where to turn, if only it was woman's voice and not a monotoned computerman I would be set. I worked my claim and traveled on to the next one. Well, the computer let me down, this place was like uncharted territory. I was able to call the insured from my cell phone, but could not understand completely what she said. So I did the best I could and I found myself very lost in what I now understand to be the back ass Louisiana. I was taking bets with myself on whether I would see a shirtless man in overalls playing banjo or drive unknowingly into a full on Voodoo ritual. Then I realized, My GPS doesn't work, my cell phone doesn't work, if I run out of gas there is none in this parish, I am pretty much on my own. No outside life lines, no mommy to save me from the monsters, it was just me. I quickly though back to my Boy Scout days listing off the necessities in order..."I have water, food, my car can be shelter...But what about a book, or TV, or something to pass the time." Wow, if the men of the 1800's could see me now, I am sure a wuss I would be. I found the claim, fortunately, but I never did get great cell coverage. I had lost the easily accessible, always when I need it, just because I am bored friend at my side. But as the day went on, finally got cell coverage, ten minutes from my hotel. I showed up here started to download, dial-up, and noticed it would take over two hours to finish. Fighting back the urge to treat my laptop as a Frisbee, I went to talk the time away with the boss, only to find the high speed was back up. I finished my work in less than five minutes. I realized getting the high speed internet was high point of my day. That of course made me question the how spoiled I really am. But, do I give it the name "Spoiled," or do I say Fortunate? I say fortunate, and not because it make me look better, but because I have worked for my comforts. But, then what does that justify and imply. I don't know, but I am pretty sure this will come up again in further post. Maybe some reflection time will be needed to know how fortunate I am, how fortunate most of us are...

I call this the Tale of Two Trailers 

Watermelon and Time

Today I arrived at the Holiday Inn Express in Dehnam Springs. Our outpost was changed as a result of no one being allowed into Hammond. The extent of damage I have seen so far, basically from the highway, has been very little. I know there are some area's around here with out power, but nothing too major. Our biggest concern, as sad as it is, is the high speed internet is not working and we have to make due with dial-up.

Everyone I come in contact with seems to be at the end of their ropes. Seeing how this is only the second day and rumors have it of not letting anyone in New Orleans for some time, I don't think the hope is going to get any better. These people do not know the condition of their homes and getting through on the phones if virtually impossible, even for me. The attitude is very somber, with the exception of five people staying a few rooms down from me. When I opened the door to leave the makeshift office, I was nearly barreled down by flashes of kids running the balcony. They ranged in ages from three to eight, and each one of them had no shoes and a mouthful of watermelon. They were laughing, screaming, and generally being kids. But judging from the smiles on their faces you would never have known Gov. Blanco had declared Marshall Law a few hours earlier or how wives were sucked away from the hands of their husbands as flood waters filled the homes. Today was just another adventure to them, a different playground for the innocent of mind. Don't we all wish for such a time we can be so light hearted and not thought of as a fool.

I am not completely sure, but I think I will be working claims in a parish around Baton Rouge. This will keep me away from the majority of the flooded areas. My biggest fear now is the disease and "Toxic Soup" as it has been called. I think I will be away from that area and out of most harms way. Most of the adjusters I have talked to, ones with 15-20 years experience, say this is the worst they have ever seen. Suddenly I have a craving for watermelon and the hope of pleasant dreams.

Paul Revere Rides again

Every time a hurricane comes through it reminds me of when Paul revere made his ride. It is a bunch of "the storm is coming the storm is coming." This is usually followed by mass hysteria and the occasion tears from loved ones. But I see it as a way to hurry up, pack virtually everything I own, and wait around for the command to leave. Then I sit as plans crumble and change all around me. Some may say we follow the military's Hurry up and Wait policy. But, as all of you hopefully know, and some may be even harboring refugees, Katrina did some damage. This means I am leaving.

So, tomorrow, maybe, I will become a resident of the Days Inn in Hammond, LA. That is assuming they have power, and open roads, and means for our company to operate. I figured trying to work 15 hour days and keeping in touch with all my friends and family will be a little difficult. So I have decided to try and post updates on my blog every couple of days or so. This way any who is bored can say "I wonder what David is up to," (knowing you spend most of your time doing that already) can simply log on to the internet and say..."Damn, I'm glad I'm not him." So let the good times roll South Louisiana, here I come.

Midget Mania

Last night I saw something both interesting and disturbing at the same time. I went to the baseball game at the local league we have here in town. It is not a minor league team, nor is it affiliated with any MLB team, but they have lots of promotionals to get the butts in the seats. Lasts night's promotional was midget wrestling. I dare say there was not a politically correct person in the whole party, not that being PC is something I seek out or strive for. The midgets were hyped up in there spandex and bouncing off the ropes like small children in a candy shop. Although this sight was some what humerous, with the planned moves and poorly attempted smack talk, I think the spectators were more of the problem to me.

You have your typical wrestle watching, trailor living, Nascar fans hooping and hollaring about laughing at the show. They weren't laughing with the midgets, they were laughing at them. This makes you wonder if the midgets know they were being laughed at, and if they did indeed know, why do they continue to put themselves in public spotlight. Is it they are so comfortable with themselves and there current status that they know they are one step above circus performers, or is the need to stand out and be famous so great people with risk there dignity all as a result of self concsiousness? Does this help or do they go home at the end of the day bragging about what was said and who won the fixed wrestling match?

But, I think it goes back to another problem I have noticed and probably noted in this blog. Lack of compasion combined with low self image that force people act in negative manner to others. Does this mean there mother/father...beat them, touched them, didn't hold them enough, held them too much, dropped them, I don't know, nor do I want to. I know it is sad how people just don't care about other people in this world. Not unless they can gain something from them. So gaurd your morals, values, and well being. Push them away so you can stand out in a crowd of your peers by crash comments and mean stabs at others.

The Problem

I think the major problem with our country today is apathy. The general lack of caring and compasion that has lead to the different subculture we know today. Last night I saw a movie set in the times of the Great Depression. The class separation was an overtone of the poorest vs. The wealthiest of the time. I kept wondering to myself how it was possible, in those days, for the wealthy to just not care or even attempt to do do anything about the bottom of the dregs, the poor, who lived in cardboard boxes in zero degree weather. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how there are similar situations today. Albeit there are a multitude of help groups and charities, I am willing to wager not even ten percent receive the assistance needed. I myself am single and what you may consider to be middle class, but I put myself on the block and see I don't do as much as I can. Then, I wonder if this realization will change my attitude and willingness to help or if this feeling will only disapate after a couple of beers. Here again apathy takes effect and does nothing but perpetuate the problem.

I also see it in my friends on a more "in your face" level. Unwillingness to do what it takes to the job done. Or to even do a job correctly. I remember when I was young, my parents would always get on to me about the half-ass way I would do things. I was never able to see what all the fuss was about, until I became older. Now I can see why they complained so much. When you put great effort into doing something or achieving something, only to have someone who just doesn't care come by and idly stand by or not put there all into it, it gets frustrating.

But what do you do? Do you quickly change your ways, alienate those people and become a self sufficient hermit, living in a tent in the mountains. Eating grubs, squirrels and the occasional badger? Do you reach the breaking point were you yell, fight, and become the asshole who no one wants to be around? Do you gradually change your ways and focus on respectable yet firm ways to change the people around you. Although the latter of the three is probably the best, it is also the most difficult to do. Mad Eye Moody, a character in the Harry Potter books, has the phrase "Constant Vigilance." This, combined with a positive attitude can render the desired outcome. But at what expense, your version of what you should become. Is that what you search for over the years, and when, if at all, do you achieve it. Is it worth it or should you sit by and not care at what the others think or do as long you get what you want. Apathy what a bitch of a stance on life.

Ugh, Mondays

I hate Mondays. The weeks work looms overhead and taunts you with five more days until freedom and laziness. Alas, what is there to do. Give up, never. Bury the head, dig into the work and make sure the weekends are worth the crap you put up with to get you there. This past weekend I had the best golf shot of my life. I was 110 yards out from the hole, hitting my third shot. It was and par four and I am not the best golfer, that's why I was so far out. I I gripped it and ripped it. I knew from the get go it was going to be pretty. It bounced once on the green and began to roll. Yeah, it rolled straight into the hole. Those are the shots that keep you coming back to play again. Granted the rest of my round was less than superb. I met a guy once who was wearing a shirt that sums up my golf game. It didn't have any pictures but just a few sayings:

I Hate Golf
I hate Golf
"Nice Shot"
I Love Golf

So that is my golf philosophy. I know I could go to the driving range, and take lessons, but nothing beats the thrill of just going out and playing. So, now I have to go back to work and fight my way through till the weekend, and hopefully another "Nice Shot" that makes me love the game.

Krispy Kreme and Me

This Saturday morning shaped up like the past four Saturdays. I woke up, laid on the couch and waited for the roommates to peel themselves from their respective bedrooms. As the last roommate ventured into the living room, we all got up and left the home in almost complete silence. There was no need to talk, no missed stories from the night before. No amusing antedotes to hear for the twentith time. It was relatively early in the morning and time for the time honored tradition of Donuts and a stout cup of coffee. We headed to Krispy Kreme.

For years there has been one major donut company. Southern Maid. Don't get me wrong the deep fried dough coated with pure sugar is very good, but there is just something magical about Krispy Kreme. The store had just opened here and I finally got to experience the simple thrill of standing in line watching the conveyor belt of heart disease, obesity, and diabetes trickle by. I dismissed these thoughts as my spare tire began to grumble. I have to say it was worth it.

This is a great much needed bonding time for the roomates of the house. Conversations very from very spirited one week to few words spoken the next. But, the effort and much needed break from the hectic week make that half hour a much sought after Oasis.

Easy my Butt

You would think creating a Blog would be an easy enough task for today's average computer literate person, right? Well...I guess that makes me less than average. I know I spend around 4 to 8 hours a day on a computer, but apparently I am a step behind on the world's blogging radar. I could not find an original web address for this Blog. It about drove me crazy. I would put down my proposed original idea, only to have it shot back at me. Well, this just made me mad. So I started venting my anger through words and phrases that made no sense or were not appropriate. The shocking thing was, they too had already be taken. So I went from trying to create an original web address to typing the thoughts in my head. Finany, one was accepted and it was clean enough to share with my friends and family.

I titled this site A Step Behind, because that's what I am. I have been hearing about blogs, with both good references and bad, for over a year now. I've had friends who traveled to far off places promising to keep everyone up to speed with their Blog. I even attempted to see what this person was up to one day, only to be unable to find her site. I've heard about blogs on the news. I have had concerned parents ask me if it was ok for there kids to be "bloggers." So, after seeing my roommate's Blog (with a very funny experience of his) I have decided to start my own.

The only problem is, I have only seen one operational Blog before, five minutes ago, and I don't know what tone I want this one to have. I don't want to use this as an outlet to vent my anger, however I have a feeling it could easily become that. So, I will take my chances and strive for a noble cause. But, who the hell knows what will become of those A Step Behind