Old Wine Tales

Treasa and I have started a new blog. Read about our love of wine (and food) at Old Wine Tales.
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Closing Credits

There’s been a good reason for my absence here – meaning my physical self isn’t in some state of decomposition. Treasa and I have been moving along very nicely. Given my line of work, it’s inevitable that she’d get caught up in it at some point. Because I know I couldn't come to terms with those consequences, I’ve decided to get out of the game from hence forward. I’ve gone straight. Yes, this means transitioning to the corporate life. I’ve taken a much better paying job at another bank. Nine to five. Cubicles. And managing vacation days.

But it doesn’t, at least shouldn’t, entail rapidly approaching bullets, explosions, and deceit. For this; I’m better off. I’m cognizant that I cannot fully escape my past. There’s a risk that something will bubble up, but I’ll do my best to avoid the splatter. I’ll always be prepared, and I’ll always get results.

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Longer Short Cut

Treasa and I went to the Philadelphia Boat Show yesterday. Unlike the Baltimore Boat Show, I wasn’t there on behalf of Mother, or any other official business. Instead, we just went up to look at what we’d spend money on if we had a spare hundred grand, which we don’t.

On the way there, though, we encountered multiple sirens from police, fire response personnel and emergency medics. The short cut I wanted to take to the highway was blocked off. Nothing incriminating was in my truck, so I wasn’t concerned if we got stopped, but because we were forced to take an alternate route, I was glad I knew the area well enough not to get lost.

The road we took wasn’t something I was familiar with because I knew the area, but rather a series of side streets I learned because they were an additional way for me to get to work when I need to get to the downtown office. Every so often, I’d take the extra ten minutes to wind my way through these neighborhoods to see if I could recognize a car that I sometimes saw on my typical commute. The chances that someone was taking the same route on the same day as me would be slim. It’s a good way to see if you’ve picked up a tail.

Yesterday, however, I was less concerned with that. Instead, it showed how preparation for one thing can pay off greatly for another.

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Good Things Come In...

This is certainly not the sight you want to see as soon as you wake up, and before your first cup of coffee.

Treasa and the dogs stayed over last night. I, being the first to rise, went downstairs, started the coffee and took the dogs outside. At the end of the cul-de-sac were two SUVs and a truck. Given the ice/snow covered roads, I’m more concerned about being attacked by vehicles with four wheel drive than some tinted out performance sedan.

The engines were cold and there wasn’t anyone inside the vehicles. Should I come under attack this morning, I have an extra layer of security; Brogan, the canine door bell.

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Milk Aisle Intolerance

We’re expecting anywhere between twelve and twenty four inches of snow, depending upon who you ask, tomorrow. Because it’s expected to start in the early afternoon, the grocery store was a complete mad house today. None of this is a surprise, because Delawarians are completely incompetent when it comes to snow.

We’re going to be stuck in our houses, maybe, until Sunday, and people are buying stuff like its Y2K all over again. I actually laughed out loud at the empty milk shelves and the women almost coming to tears over them. See blurry cell phone pic. The (pretty attractive) woman behind me in the checkout line said that she saw a woman buying four gallons of milk. Four gallons!?!?



Now, I’ll admit that an increases level of grocery fervor is tolerable, considering that the Super Bowl is this weekend and that the shopping that had been planned for Saturday had to be accelerated, but c’mon!

Treasa and I, of course, predicted the chaos and went to the liquor store yesterday. I don’t even want to know how crazy that place was today.

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House Call

A few days ago I got tired of the slow drain in my master bathroom sink. So I took apart the drain and cleared the clog, which was a pretty gross blob of gooey grossness. As I was putting it back together, I cracked the sleeve that connects the sink to the pipe. I went to Lowe’s and purchased a replacement Lavatory Pop-Up. But instead of installing it myself, and breaking the same piece twice, I had Treasa call a maintenance man from one of her properties.

He came over today and fixed it for free. And a lot faster than I would have.

Well, I think it cost me a sandwich, but all in all, not a bad deal.

The plumbing job had absolutely nothing to do with an operational procedure; however it did show me how accepting neighbors are of people in uniforms, carrying a few tools, entering your home. If I ever need to pick something up in the future for Mother, taking the truck, putting on some work clothes and carrying a tool box seems like a pretty simple way to remain under the radar.

An original idea? No. Simple and effective? Yes.

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Colonel Mustard, In The Study, With The Maglite

It’s supposed to be in the low teens tonight. Treasa is over for a roaring fire, my renowned meat sauce, a bottle of cabernet and 24 episodes into the wee hours of tomorrow. Also making the trip are her two German Shorthaired Pointers, Brogan, the male, and Rohan, whose name is pronounced like what you do in a canoe, the female.



In so far as the truck break-in fallout is concerned, I have two potential avenues to track my prey. First, are fingerprints. These, unfortunately, are not an option. I made the decision not to dust for prints. How could I explain myself, a supposed banker, possessing a CSI kit and combing for forensic evidence?

Secondly, is the GPS itself. The thing about a GPS is that in order for it to give you directions to where you need to go, a computer has to know where you are. If a computer knows where the GPS unit is, I can track it. Unfortunately, I can only track it if it’s powered on. It’s hasn’t shown up on the grid yet. This either means that I’ve been targeted and my attacker has disposed of the GPS, or the junkie that took it hasn’t found a buyer yet. Time will tell.

This whole ordeal has me thinking about home security though. If someone had broken into my truck during the holiday season, one could surmise that they were looking for presents left in a vehicle and happened to stumble on my GPS. A vehicle break-in this time of year brings into question my, and Treasa’s, safety in my home.

This highlights the necessity of keeping everyday household items placed around your house that can also be used as weapons in the event of a home invasion. For the sake of this discussion, I’ll leave out firearms. They should always be locked in a safe, and therefore, may not be the best thing to rely on if your life depends on your actions within the next few seconds.

Bedroom: I keep a Maglite flashlight on my bed stand. Not only great for when power goes out, but Maglite’s also make good weapons.

Maglite flashlights have been known to be used as mêlée weapons. On March 30, 2007, the Los Angeles Police Department announced that they would be switching to a smaller, lighter LED flashlight that cannot be used as batons, in response to a highly publicized incident where an officer was accused of using excessive force against a suspect by using a Maglite

Kitchen: Obviously, cutlery is a good choice. However, your attacker will know about that as well. I keep a large pair of scissors in a drawer, they also serve as a good impaling device. Silverware. Cast iron skillets. My favorite ones are made by Lodge.

Dining Room: Candle stick holders will do a nice job when struck with force against a forehead. Also, break the bowl off of a wine glass, and the stem and foot will stab quite well.

Garage: Hammers, screw drivers, saws, nail guns…all this should be pretty obvious. What’s not, however, is a plumb bob. Consider the plumb bob the Lowe’s equivalent of a medieval mace.

Living Room: Fire place set. Maglite by the television.

Office: Letter opener. Any pen or pencil. Scissors. A stapler also can serve as a nice interrogation device should you capture your trespasser.

Others: Dog leashes. If a 13 year old girl in Saudi Arabia can get 90 lashes over a possessing a cell phone, your dog’s leash can serve as a weapon.

By no means is this an exhaustive list. I didn’t list the variety of pocket knives and Leatherman mini tools I own. You can be certain I’ll be looking to strategically place additional items around my house within the next coming days.

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Fine Tuning Banjo

Treasa's office has an operational scanner. Here’s Banjo Jim’s letter:
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Key Information

The Spy Museum was a lot of fun. Unfortunately, photography was not permitted around the exhibits. Granted there was like an infinity minus one percent chance that I would have gotten away with taking a few pictures, but out of respect for those that came before me, I figured I’d follow the rules for once.

We met two of Treasa’s friends, Ben and Niki Stoley, for dinner at in China town. This is not a place where they let you leave hungry.

Getting out of DC was a bit of a hassle considering we hit the road at the same time the Capitals game finished. This would have made it easier to spot a tail, yet there was none to be found.

Most importantly, Treasa and I are officially together now.

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Cooperstown

Treasa’s pretty great. We’re going here today. I haven’t told her what I do. That’s for both of our safeties. However, after dog sitting, preferring to sit facing the entrance at restaurants and an uncanny ability to remember where she’s left her keys and/or cell phone, she’s made a few innocent jokes about how I’m like a new and improved James Bond.

Did I mention she’s smart too?

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What Time Do We Checkout?

Hotels are interesting in my business. On one hand, the anonymity offered can be of great use. It’s fairly easy to reserve a room under an alias and move about a city without leaving a paper trail. It’s very easy to enter a hotel and meet someone, whether it is in their room or at the hotel bar, without raising the slightest suspicion. But because of the transient nature of these establishments, picking up a tail can be extremely difficult.

Such was my concern when I accompanied Treasa to a Country Yard hotel this evening. She was looking book an allotment of rooms for an upcoming event and wanted to see the amenities. We had an appointment with the sales manager at 6 PM. I left work right at 5 PM and sat in the parking lot scouting traffic and staff movements for just under an hour. At roughly 17:47 I called Treasa and told her that I had arrived. She would be pulling in shortly.

By this time I was pretty sure I didn’t have anyone following me, but given the fact that I hadn’t set of the meeting ahead of time and placed an ally on the inside, my alertness was on overdrive.

As I sat in the lobby and waited for Treasa, I was continuously monitoring staff and patrons for any sign that they recognized me. I’m not sure how anyone would know I would be at the Country Yard this evening, but if they did, there’s a chance my photo would be circulated ahead of time. Either a glance lasting a second too long or the opposite, blatant recognition avoidance, can be tell tale signs that someone could be on to me.

I took advantage of the complimentary coffee while I waited. A scalding cup of joe is quite good at disorientating an assailant when flung in their face.

Treasa arrived and we met with the sales manager. The meeting went well. She received the information she needed. Twenty minutes later, we left the hotel. I took a few extra turns on the way home to make sure I wasn’t followed.

A grilled jalapeno and pepper jack cheese burger, a la the Burger From Hell, for dinner, a few more episodes of 24, and hopefully an early night to bed.

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Lunch Specials

I slept in this morning. It felt good. I wouldn’t have thought that sitting at a desk all day for a week would make me so tired. Or, perhaps, it could have been the bourbon.

I met Treasa for lunch. We took a small table near the middle of the restaurant. She selected the seat facing the door. This made me a little uncomfortable so I forced myself to conclude that any threats would have to come from the kitchen.

After lunch, we stopped for a Guinness. I’ll spend tonight researching Bulgarian backgrounds, watching the end of the second season of 24, and watching some football.

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Man's Best Friend

Treasa and I met at her friend’s house around 4 PM. She left me on the porch as she went in. The dogs obviously recognized her and immediately sat and awaited their leashes. We took them for a short walk and let them reiterate that the corner of the garden was in fact their territory. The stroll gave me a chance to earn enough trust for Treasa to invite me into her friend’s house.

While Treasa ensured that the dogs hadn’t left of made a mess in the house, I took a minute to take mental note of all exits. Treasa’s friends had hired a dog walker, yet we couldn’t determine if they had stopped by yet. The payment was still on the dining room table. It’s possible that they wouldn’t take the check until the three day assignment was completed, but unlikely.

We decided to stay a bit longer and give the dogs some attention. They appreciated the companionship and took to me quickly. The best way to get a woman to like you is to get her dog to like you. Though these weren’t Treasa’s pets, wagging tails were definitely a step in the right direction.

When it was time to go, we still hadn’t figured out if the dog walker had been there previously. It was a few minutes after 5 PM, so it was conceivable that her scheduled arrival was later in the evening.

I walked over to the leashes that we had hung behind the front door. After explaining to the dogs that they weren’t getting another walk, I twisted the leashes so that the clasps were all facing in the same direction. That way, I explained, that even if the walker didn’t inspect the check, between the order of the leashes and the direction of the clasps, we’d be able to tell if the dogs had been taken for a walk.

She smiled and said that dogs would really enjoy having us check on them tomorrow morning.

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A New Resolution

Here’s the thing about Delaware. It’s far enough north so people think they can drive in the snow…but far enough south so they really can’t. What scares me more are the fearless SUV’ers with four wheel drive. Four wheel drive helps you get going. It doesn’t help you stop. It’s hard enough to stay alive in this business. I really don’t need Chevy S-10’s on thirty four inch tires fish-tailing all over the road.

I always pick a place in a parking lot that’s far away from other vehicles. This serves two purposes. First, I hate door dings. Also note that I never park downhill from a shopping cart return corral. Secondly, choosing a parking spot without anyone else near you eliminates the cover necessary for someone to place an incendiary device on your vehicle. It’s not preventative, but it’s precautionary. In addition, on a day like this, when leaving your vehicle, take note of the footprints in the snow. When you return, if you see the snow disturbed within reach of your starter, find another way to get home.

Using these safety measures, I entered Blockbuster. There’s nothing better to do on a day like this than to watch the first season of 24. Walking through the aisles, I make my selection, turn the corner and bump into Treasa Joyce.

Coincidence? No. I followed her here.

It’s not stalking, it’s surveillance.

She noticed my clean shaven appearance.

“I clean up well.”

I asked a few open ended questions and learned that she’s dog sitting tomorrow for a few friends that are out of town. After I pointed out that it’s possible, if not preferable, for two people, instead of one, to walk two golden retrievers, I have myself a date.

New Year’s dinner is still a solo event though:
Seared ahi tuna salad over bed of baby spinach.
Bacon wrapped filet mignon, topped with crab imperial and a lobster tail.
Grilled asparagus with balsamic vinaigrette.
Twice baked potato with smoked cheddar bacon cheese.
One bottle of 2006 Greg Norman petite sirah.
One bottle of extra dry champagne – at this point in the evening, quality won’t be paramount.

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The Wrong Facade

Yesterday’s wind was wreaking havoc with my security cameras. Monitoring outside was like watching an earthquake. The black and white screens did not prepare me for Treasa Joyce.

Treasa, the real estate broker, had radiant red hair and stunning blue eyes.

I, unfortunately, had my moustache. Here’s a situation where I wanted to be remembered by her most favorably. Not for official business, but more so for off the clock exploits.

Given my Mc-Creepster appearance, our meeting was painfully proper. She left me a packet containing information on a variety of properties and left.

I retreated upstairs to shave and shower. I didn’t miss a spot this time.

Taking a circuitous route, I settled in at Buffalo Wild Wings for a platter of their traditional mango habanero wings.

Nothing to report, no progress made.

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