Brain Dump

The past week or so has been a little crazy. The family at large rolled in late last week and we buried Grandpa's ashes on Saturday, followed by a memorial service at the old-folks home he lived at. (Yeah, yeah, "assisted living facility" ... it still smells of Bengay.) The service was good, positive, and some unexpected attendees were there. Grandpa's barber closed shop for the afternoon to come - he passed up income to pay respects. There aren't enough like him left in the world.

After the memorial service we all changed to human clothes and started the process of packing and sorting his apartment. A lot of it had already been done by one of Grandpa's sons (my uncle) and his wife - they did a tremendous amount of work, taking clothes to the Salvation Army, disposing of old newspapers, and the like - and labeling items that already had been claimed.

There were a few minor meltdowns along the way, and one major, but that wasn't unexpected. We finally stopped moving furniture to storage around 9, loaded a few more boxes into cars, and had dinner around 10. Sunday morning we all slept in, had a late brunch, and then dug in again.

We were really hitting the smaller stuff at this point, and making claims to things we wanted - and doing so remarkably well. There had been talk of selling Grandpa's coin collection as a lot and splitting the money; I spoke up and took that. He has some fascinating coins, and likely some valuable stuff. I cleaned out a drawer in his dresser of all sorts of small stuff - his 1930s-vintage Boy Scout rank cards, a box full of pocket knives, his daily journal from 1945-49, and so forth. Sitting in the bottom of the drawer was a bag full of 1960s JFK half-dollars, and a few loose coins - including an 1842 US penny. I'm looking forward to sorting through the rest of the collection over the coming months, and reading his journal. (Entry on the day my father was born: "Went to bed around 2 am, got up and took cab to Presby. Hosp. around 5, sat in reception until..." etc.)

Most of the family has departed, although there's a bit more furniture to move, and MrsZ and I are trying to figure out where our new stuff is going to go.

Work has been a bit ... well ... nuts. The kids are back in town, and call volume has increased commensurately. BBHIS has been crazy-busy with people outfitting dorm rooms and apartments, and contractors trying to get the last few projects in while the weather holds.

Speaking of weather ... Irene. Sounds like we dodged a bit of a bullet on this one. The track had been pretty consistently east of us, so I wasn't terribly worried; nonetheless I made sure we had full cans for the generator and tanks in the cars and picked up a few extra cases of water. We ended up with a morning of steady wind and about two inches of rain. No big deal. Out east of us, things didn't turn out so well. That said, we're doing what Yankees do - picking up the pieces and getting on with life as best we can. My thoughts are with those who have lost so much - good luck to them.

And finally, this line from Tam has been provoking much thought lately:
"Dude, where's my country?"

Tam, it's all around you. Yep, things are in rough shape. The economy sucks. Our liberties are being trampled upon left and right. But it's still America. I'm still proud to say, "I'm an American." I don't think we're past the point of no return - but it's an uphill battle and it's not going to be pretty.

Tam also writes:

Except people being interviewed are saying things like "...and then 9/11 happened...", like it was an earthquake or blizzard, and "...my husband died...", like he'd just had a little myocardial infarction at his desk one fine autumn day. 

That's easy: the attacks of 9/11 *are* like earthquakes and blizzards. They affect all of us, but are beyond the ability of any one individual to control, avoid, or prevent. And "my husband died" is simply trying to cope with something that is generally beyond our realm of reference. For a grieving widow, what's easier to say? "My husband died" (like he had a heart attack) or "My husband was murdered" (and either died in an jet-fuel-fed inferno, or chose to jump 90-odd stories, or rode those 90 stories down and was crushed)?

Is it self-deception? Yes. Is it acceptable? Yes. It's a coping mechanism. The person who is coping in this method knows - absolutely and unequivocally - how their loved one died. But I can't fault them for trying to find some solace in it, and perhaps making the mention of it less likely to create uncomfortable situations in conversation.
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TL;DR:
Grandpa's funeral was good, small storm, people deal.

M&P9 - me too!

When I took my new shooter out last week, she tried the M&P9 - and as I was showing her the manual of arms, I noted that the white dot in the front sight was missing.

Good thing I have the TFOs to put in there.

Range trip, new-ish shooter

I reconnected with an old acquaintance earlier this week. We've known each other online going back to 2004 or 2005 thanks to LiveJournal, lived within 45 minutes the vast majority of that time, but had only first met (briefly) in 2008. Go figure. She dropped off the planet shortly thereafter, then last week we discovered we had several friends and acquaintances in common.

We went out for dinner and a drink Tuesday night, traded some EMS/fire war stories (amidst odd glances from adjacent tables - something about gales of laughter following stories that began with, "So there we were, no shit..." and usually included gore of some kind.) At some point she mentioned needing to shoot a pig head for some research she's doing (forensic anthropology), and we made quick plans to go to the range Wednesday.

Wednesday fell through for various reasons, so we went yesterday instead.

Fortunately, we had the range to ourself, as she started by partially degloving the pig head in order to document the existing wound (from slaughter).

I checked zero on a couple rifles, she chose to use the MkII .22, and we set the pig up at 50 yards. After she sent a few magazines downrange, we shot the pig. One shot, fifty yards, 36gr .22HP (Federal bulk pack, 1260fps?), and she nailed it.

For those that say .22 has no power, check out these two frames from the video (click to embiggen).

A few frames prior to impact:

The moment of impact:

Once that was done, we had some fun with other hardware...

MkII:

AR:

Model 67:

I didn't grab pictures of anything else, but suffice to say she got to try several new pieces.

Some will complain about the stance... all I can say is this: listen to your shooter. My friend has had some problems with (and surgeries to correct) her back. A standard Weaver or isosceles stance hurts her back to hold. She tried this stance (I call it a bullseye stance, although that's probably not the right term) and found that it was the most comfortable. I'm well aware that it's not a solid defensive shooting position, but as we all know, new shooters should be comfortable first and foremost.

(Yes, we started with the .22s.)

All in all, a very good day.

State Farm Fail

This marks the second time State Farm has really screwed the pooch for us.

When we bought our house and got our homeowner's policy through them, they issued the policy, we closed, life was good. We got a letter two weeks after closing that they were terminating the policy. No reason, just terminating. Phone calls ensued.

They had visited the property, looked everything over, taken pictures, written the policy, and THEN decided that the un-sided garage was an unacceptable risk. We had thirty days to finish the garage. A couple thousand dollars and several full days of labor later, the garage was sided and the policy was reinstated.

Fast forward to last week. I got a call from my agent saying they needed a photo inspection of MrsZ's car for their file. Their hours are 9-4:45 on weekdays. I work two jobs and MrsZ works days. In other words, we're not going to make it down there on two days notice. I told the agent as much.

I got a letter on Saturday, dated the day prior to the phone call, stating that my collision coverage was suspended effective Saturday. Me, roof, through.

I called them this morning and as politely as possible said WTF?

Lady I spoke to said it had been sorted out and they'd received the paperwork they needed from the dealer. I told her to send (fax) me written proof of coverage. She called back and said they actually DID need a picture of the car. I told her it was parked at home. She wanted me to bring it down to the office.

Back the fuck up, lady.

YOU sent me a letter saying YOU SUSPENDED collision coverage on the vehicle. Now you're telling me to drive it down there? She says, "well, yes, it would be covered to do that..." I told her to give that to me in writing. She wouldn't. I asked who would cover it if I got in an accident on the way down to their office, since they had given me written notice that the vehicle wasn't covered? Silence.

It's parked in front of our house. Help yourself.

Now they want additional information that I can't give them immediately (odometer and a photo of the VIN plate). It'll be at least tomorrow before the vehicle is insured.

She tried to tell me it was the dealer's fault for not sending them a copy of the bill of sale. Not buying that, lady. She told me they had sent me a letter last summer requesting the information. We received no such letter. She faxed me a copy of the letter. Fine, you have a letter dated last year with my name on top - but that doesn't change the fact that I never received it.

In short: State Farm fucked up, they didn't properly audit their files - for a YEAR - and are trying to blame someone - anyone - else.

I've already started getting new insurance quotes. Completely unacceptable.

Fuck State Farm and Lee Newhart Insurance.

Bye-Bye NetFlix

After NetFlix's announcement earlier this summer that they'd be hiking pricing significantly (a 60% increase for the same level of service) I said I would be cancelling. The new price structure takes effect in ten days.

I just cancelled my service.

As is normal for subscription cancellations, there was a brief questionnaire asking why I was leaving.

Oddly enough, there was no choice for, "Y'all fucked up and wanted to charge too much."

I went with "Poor customer service experience" - it seemed the most accurate choice.