Monday Meanderings - Sep 28

Mom and I went to a wedding the other evening. Let me give you a little perspective. Initially I said that this was the 1st wedding Mom had been to since Rob got married fourteen years ago. Then I remembered that she had attended another wedding a couple of years ago and after some thought remembered a family wedding only last year, so this was actually the 3rd wedding she has attended in that time frame. Thinking about that I realized that I have been to only these same three weddings  - as a guest. I've worked a lot of weddings, but I too have attended only three. This social life is killing us.

One of the interesting things about going to physical therapy is that you see such a wide variety of folk suffering alongside you. I expected the crowd to be all jocks - and I guess that is the largest group - but one often sees little old ladies and little old men (like me). Today there was a young girl about 10 and a heavily-tattooed biker type, working out side by side. The girl was leaving the biker dude in the dust, by the way. There was also someone in decidedly non-workout attire. She looked like she would have been more comfortable in a corporate boardroom. Evidently she was working in 30 minutes of ultra-sound in between meetings. And I showed you a picture of what the Goth chick was wearing. I guess rehab is an equal opportunity endeavor.

Uh-Oh. We've got a small problem on Thursday evenings. This past week I'm watching South Carolina beating up on number four Ole Miss when I realized the TV had switched channels and was now showing The Mentalist. What? It seems that on Thursdays we now tape The Mentalist back-to-back with Gray's Anatomy and our cable box won't let you tape two shows and watch a third. Have you seen the TV commercials for U-Verse where the guy hires the neighbor kids to tell him what happens when he can't watch his third program. Looks like we're that guy.  Does anybody know how the game came out?

Went to Fort Worth on Saturday to help my sis celebrate her 80th birthday. I can sum it up by telling you what was on the card our brother gave her: "We all have to get old, sooner or later." And on the inside it said, "You sooner, and me later." I just hope I am as strong and vibrant a person at 80 as my sister is. Happy birthday, Sis!

Can anyone tell me how long I-35 has been under construction at the outlet malls near Burleson? Years, and years and years!!! And they still are nowhere near finishing. What's the deal?!!

Monday Meanderings - Sep 21

Man, I hate it when the Doctor dilates my eyes when checking my vision! It takes so long before I'm seeing normal again. Uhh! Bright light! Bright Light! There, that's better.

When I get e-stim during physical therapy, they also have me lie on a hot pad. Wonderful! The other day the therapist said, "How tolerant are you of heat?" Based on my previous experiences, I said that I was tolerant. So they got me set up, and as he stepped away, he said, "If this gets too hot, say something - don't try to tough it out." Hmmm, I thought. Why is this different than the other times? I mean, it is hot. Actually it's very hot, but I can take it. Or can I? You know, I think this thing may actually burn me. Yes, this is definitely way too hot!!  HELP!!


"Okay," he said, after adding some cooling layers. "It was 170 degrees when I took it out of the steamer. I thought that might be a little hot." ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY DEGREES!! What was he thinking?! That's not therapy - that's Lobster a la carte!


So how am I doing with the orchid plant?

You're right - it is a different color. Can't get anything by you, can I? We discovered that if you close up the house, turn off the A/C and go off to California for a week during the hottest part of the summer, orchids just can't take it. And I thought they were tropical plants. So we are giving it another shot with a brand new plant that still has all it's leaves and is not curled up in a knot.

Say what?

I got out my high school year book to look over prior to attending the 50th reunion of the Class of '59. I looked over the pictures in the book, and compared them to those I have that were taken at a reunion 5 years ago. My, my. Those people sure have aged. Then I began reading all the stuff that my classmates wrote in my annual. Yikes! I hope my parents never read them. I really hope my children never read them!

To be sure, the majority of what's scribbled in there is the usual drivel "...I know you are going to go far with all your incredible talents and looks, yada, yada, yada..." but sprinkled in there are some really interesting little tidbits. Like "I used to think you were touched in the head, but now that I know you I know you are not." Hmmm. That usually goes the other way. And "...you were the funniest thing I ever saw just before the curtain opened on Senior Play night." I wonder what I was doing?

And there were more than a few references to events and activities of the year, such as  "For both our sakes, I'll not mention the Band trips, or Brady." And "I'll never forget the Junior Senior rumble and painting the water tower." And "I'm sure you'll never forget our late night conversation. We really educated Sam!" However, I did forget. I have no idea what she was talking about. Nor do I know why one girl wrote: "Maybe I did have to use my hairbrush a few times, but you turned out to be a pretty good guy." You would think one would remember something like that. Or "Hello, Hot Daddy! Hasn't this been a wonderful Senior Year? Honest. We were not that close as friends.

Some were pretty indifferent about the whole thing:  "We've known each other for a long time and I still think you are a good guy." Or "No hard feelings." Or, they were just clueless, like the Freshman girl who congratulated me on being voted "Most Popular Boy." Ya'll, I wasn't even nominated! And in fact, I must have had issues with some classmates. "I was afraid I wouldn't get a last chance to to attempt to redeem myself, whatever it is I've done to merit your undivided indifference." Or "I hope you get your love life straightened out soon. It's really getting me down." 

But the grand prize goes to the guy who wrote: "Dear Bob, I have enjoyed seeing you choke everybody this year about making people do whatever you want them to do. If you do this any in future years, you may get caught up with. Seriously, I hope you get better. "May God guide you." Your friend always."

And this guy is signed up for the reunion! That's going to be an interesting conversation - unless he's like me and can't remember what was going on before the curtain went up - among other things.

Monday Meanderings - Sep 14

Saw a bumper sticker the other day that looked like this:

Given the paucity of rain this summer, one would not expect to come to work after Labor Day and find one's office flooded - from rain. Inside a nice, concrete building. But mine was. We're talking ceiling tiles collapsed from the weight and all the documents on my desk water logged. My telephone dripped water when I picked it up. My computer evidently stayed dry. The documents are easily replaced. The computer is always backed up. Still, it is rather unsettling. This was before the rains really came later in the week. It rained 14 inches in Williamson County; you would expect your office and everything else to be flooded, then.

Texas is the only place I know where you can have Stage 2 watering restrictions and flash flood warnings on the same newscast.

Social networking is a lot bigger than I thought. Last weekend we were listening to the Texas game on the radio (because it was only on pay-per-view) and watching the OU-BYU game with the sound turned off. Late in the 4th quarter the OU kicker missed a field goal - guaranteeing a win for BYU. On the radio - as if the missed kick was being shown in Royal-Memorial Stadium, a gigantic roar goes up from the Texas crowd. It wasn't being shown, and no public address announcement was made; the crowd got the news from Tweets, texts, and phone browsers - almost in real time!

I'm at a physical therapy session, enjoying the wonderful "roller couch" that delightfully kneads ones back, when I glance over to the next therapy table. Now, a lot of people come in wearing casts and braces and various medical appliances; it's a common sight. But I was really struck by this particular device and wondered "What kind of injury does this person have and what kind of cast is that?" Then I got a good look at it - here it is from my perspective:

 

No wonder this person needed therapy - and obviously she was showing the staff what caused the pain! 

Yesterday before church started a young woman came over and said, "I hope you are not already booked for the season. I'm planning a party and I really need a Santa!"

Okay. I admit that between the beard and the belly  the resemblance to Santa has been growing (literally). It obviously is time to take drastic measures -- I'm thinking about dying the beard.

Class of '59

Fifty years. Five. Oh. As in oh, my!

I mentioned that I'm going to attend the 50th Reunion of the Breckenridge High School class of 1959. Truth be known, I would rather not, but how often does a 50th reunion roll around? duh! And to prepare for this event, I'm dragging out the old high school yearbooks and doing a little refresher course on the kids I went to school with.

I have over the years said that I was part of a class of 74 graduates. That may or may not be correct. I have a booklet that was prepared on the occasion of the 45th reunion and it has names and photos of 107 classmates (bought the book - skipped the reunion). But the official yearbook has only 80 pictures and names. The official class picture shows 71 individuals in caps and gowns.

I don't know where the extra people came from for the 45th list; I'll have to do a little research. I can believe that 3 people were missing on the day we took the official picture. I know that not everyone in the class graduated - in fact, one classmate was already a guest of the Criminal Justice System at that time (but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure he was left over from the class of '58. Or '57).

I do know that at least 30 are deceased. Possibly more - there are 7 names in the 45th reunion booklet that have no contact information. So if we go with the 74 number, there are fewer than 40 of us still wandering around.

Maybe they better move the date up some.

Monday Meanderings - Sep 7

Note to self:

Do. not. eat. anything - not even a "light" meal - before going to Physical Therapy.

There has been so little precipitation this summer that one forgets the nomenclature. Someone commented that her husband was so taken with a few drops of rain that he said, "Look! There's rain..., uh, rain... pieces!"

We met Barbara's sister and brother and their spouses in San Marcos the other day for lunch and family time. Betty and Thayne had just completed an Alaskan cruise and we enjoyed hearing about that. Evidently the highlight of the trip was after one particular docking, going down to the shoreline and watching them try to extract the large, dead whale from the prow of the cruise ship. The Cruise Line insists that it was already dead or nearly so - they swear that they normally don't impale whales with their ships.

He said (softly tapping her on the shoulder, according to the rules of the game): "Swat Bug Green."
She said: "You know, I like it better when you are oblivious to the game."
He said: "Ha! You can dish it out but you can't take it!"
She said: "Oh, I can take it. I didn't backhand you or anything, did I?"


and I personally think the hysteria over Swine Flu is getting out of hand.

But how weird?

You'll note that the name of this Blog is Retired in Austin.

The city that has as an official slogan "Keep Austin Weird." I'm not making this up. The Mayor, when meeting delegations from elsewhere, often wears a tee shirt with that slogan and hands them out as mementos of the occasion. At least the former Mayor did; the new Mayor seems a little more stodgy. So little surprises you when you live here. I mean, we've got a homeless drag queen living downtown that has run for Mayor - and received lots of votes.

But occasionally things transpire in Austin that make you stop and wonder. Here are two of them - on the same, momentous day! You tell me which is weirder.

The first is the announcement of a 6-week, $75, 000 ad campaign to make Austin aware of poop.

Here's humorist for the American-Statesman John Kelso's take on the subject. And I quote:

"That big pile of dirt on Auditorium Shores? Are you wondering what that's all about? 

Well, it's part of a City of Austin campaign to get you to start picking up your dog's droppings."This is a pile of dirt," says the educational sign in front of the dirt pile, on the banks of Lady Bird Lake near the western end of Riverside Drive. "Imagine, if one day all the dog poop in the city were put in one big pile. It would be this big. It would weigh 60,000 lbs." 

Really? That's the equivalent of a day's worth of Austin dog mess? 

Yes, says Kathy Shay, the city's water quality education manager, who helped put together the $75,000 campaign called Scoop the Poop, Austin! This 60,000-pound figure, Shay said, is based on the estimate of 120,000 dogs in Austin and the average weight of each daily dog bomb weighing a half-pound. 

And the pile, she said, is five dump truck loads of dirt. "And they were big dump trucks." But she said the estimate on the number of dogs in Austin might be a little low. So to be accurate, the pile perhaps should be bigger."

Oh, there's a lot more, including a snappy video with an Austin-original song about the subject, which shows cartoon doggies leaving little cartoon doggie calling cards. I looked online for the video, but honestly, not too hard. All I found was a video of Ms Shay, keeping a straight face while she explained the mound of ersatz poop. You can see it here if you have to. And all of Mr Kelso's article is here.

But there's more.

 

This is a picture of  choreographer Allison Orr directing a bunch of trash men sanitary engineers as they operate their trucks and pick-up arms in a "Trash Dance." I can't find words to describe this - watch the video of the rehearsal. I'm sorry to tell you that you missed the actual performance. At least this was privately funded. Except the City loaned her the use of the trash trucks, and the ex-mayor volunteered to drive one of them - as long as he got to wear his Keep Austin Weird tee shirt.

Oh, and here's the whole story if you don't have a life, like me.

Funny how the night moves...

I awoke last night to the sound of thunder
How far off I sat and wondered
Started humming a song from 1962
Aint it funny how the night moves

With autumn closing in...

I sometimes have trouble going to sleep and lie awake thinking, but I seldom wake in the wee hours and can't go back to sleep. Maybe it's because I've decided to attend my high school 50th anniversary reunion next month, but I spent a couple of hours early this morning thinking about high school and early college... kids I hung out with...people I knew...girls I dated. Both of them. I was such a total dork.

I thought about Eddye Kendrick, who I thought was totally cool, even if he was in the band, like me. I thought about Marilyn somebody, who moved to town from Wichita Falls my senior year. She had modeled in WF and had some 8x12 glossy "glamor" shots; I took one to ACU and since you couldn't have pin-ups on your wall I signed it "Love, Mother." Which was funny until Mother came to visit.

I thought about Ida Jo and Carolyn O'Conner getting into a cat fight up at the water tower the night of the traditional Jr/Sr rumble. It was the annual battle over juniors trying to paint "Class of whatever" on the water tower and seniors trying to stop them. Ida Jo and Carolyn were fighting so spectacularly that the guys who were also fighting said, "Hold on - I've got to see this!"

I thought about the morning of our Senior trip (Ft Worth Zoo - how lame) being called to the Principal's office before the bus left. Someone had painted "Seniors Rule" on the school building; I got called in because one of the coaches spotted white paint on my shoes. I successfully defended my lack of fashion as being left over from sets painted for a school program. Pheww!

Funny how the night moves...