Monday, August 30, 2010

Monday Meanderings - Aug 30

I just finished reading Stieg Larrson's Millennium trilogy - The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played With Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest. It's a formidable task - the three books total more than 1,830 pages; the setting is Sweden and keeping up with the hundreds of strangely-named characters and places is challenging. The books wander through dozens of sub-plots and you learn far, far more about Swedish political parties and governments than you ever wished to, but when it's over, you regret that that you have reached the end. There likely will be no more because Larrson died suddenly at age 50 before any of three books were published (he submitted all of them at the same time). However, they found an unfinished 4th novel and outlines for 6 more, so...

Larrson was well known as a science fiction writer and fan, and a political activist for the Communist Worker's League. He was a crusader in documenting and exposing Swedish extreme right and racist organizations and reportedly lived for years under death threats from his political enemies. An un-filed will left his estate to the Communist Worker's League, but it was ruled invalid and his estate passed to his father and brother, from whom he was estranged. Let that be a lesson - be sure you have an up-to-date will before you write three block-buster best sellers!

I saw someone panhandling the other day with a cardboard sign that read "ART SUPPLIES - Anything Helps." Couldn't help but wonder if this was a teacher.

Saw a chart on the wall at the RFTB&D studios that listed August anniversaries; I have completed 3 years of volunteering.

More Shirt Saga - 
She said: "Did you go through your closet and gather up the shirts that you don't wear?"
He said: "Yes, I did."
She said: "There's still a lot of shirts there."
He said: "I even gathered up two of my most favorite blue shirts."
She said: "Yes, but you just ordered two new blue shirts."
He said: "I'm going to wear those shirts in the closet."
She said: "Okay, but I'm going to watch and if you just wear the same shirts I'm going to get the others out of your closet."
He said: "Puts a whole new slant on the phrase 'Shirt Fairy' doesn't it?"

Quote from Texas coach Mack Brown, on trying to decide who was going to start and who was not. "One thing that I've learned is that every mother likes her child better than any other child."

I mentioned the bald-headed Red Bird at the feeder. It seems that this more common than I thought. By chance I came across others who were inquiring about their bald-headed Red Birds and it seems there are three common causes:
  1.  Most likely molting
  2.  Parasites or infections
  3.  Plucking (another bird plucking the feathers off this one’s head) 
I stand by my domestic issues choice ("snatched him bald-headed") statement.

And here's a picture of our latest addition to the orchid collection:

Friday, August 27, 2010

Serve Out - 2

It is time once again to reach way back in the back of the 'fridge and pull out those things that have accumulated back there. As you might expect, some things are old and moldy, but a few look to be still edible, if you are not real picky.

I thought these little guys were clever. Wouldn't mind having some of them hanging around.


 Sometimes you do what you got to do.


Uh, watch out for that curb, honey.


I think I heard this band on the radio the other day.


Come here, you!


Wow.

Should have posted this during the World Cup.


Shouldn't there be NO tabs, too?


It was 107 that day.


Hey, that's worth a buck!


Notice the brand of gas.


Mother told me there would be days like this.


And finally, I guess it is a good thing that the summer is over.





Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Reflections when it's 104 degrees; feels like 110

Not to put too fine a point on it, but in the words of our friend Sarah, "It's stinkin' HAWT!"

This is the time of year when you wonder why you still live in Austin - especially when you know that there are places where the high today will be 62 degrees. Give me a break! As much as possible, outdoor activity has ceased. No more gardening, trimming, or fixing. It can wait and I don't care what the neighbors think; they are all inside anyway. Even indoor projects, if they require going to the garage for tools are on hold. It's too hot. Close up the house. Pull the shades tight so the poor A/C at least has a chance of cycling before dawn!

Please. We really don't want to know how many days in a row the temperature has been in triple digits and the humidity above 75%, but that's all the weatherman has to talk about. What else is he going to say? We know what the forecast will be for the next too-many days! By the way, don't send me anything by snail mail. That requires walking out to the mail box and actually touching a metal object.


It's the reverse of being snowed in, but the results are the same - cabin fever.  Let's see, I could sort the newspapers in the recycling bin. Again. Wait! I can clean up my hard drive. Oh, yeah. I did that yesterday.

You know it's hot when...

The best parking place is determined by shade instead of distance.
Hot water now comes out of both taps.
You can make sun tea instantly.
You learn that a seat belt buckle makes a pretty good branding iron.
The temperature drops below 95 and you feel a little chilly.
You discover that  it only takes 2 fingers to steer your car.
You discover that you can get sunburned through your car window.
You actually burn your hand opening the car door.
You break into a sweat the instant you step outside at 7:30 a.m.
You realize that asphalt has a liquid state.
Potatoes cook underground, so all you have to do is pull one out and add butter, salt and pepper.
Farmers are feeding their chickens crushed ice to keep them from laying boiled eggs.
A scalding hot shower still cools you down
People walking down the sidewalk spontaneously burst into flames
You wish you had gotten the cloth seats instead of leather
Your iPhone tells you it needs to cool down before use. Really.
You keep spare bottles of freon in your car.
You buy sun block by the case.
You start bonding with your air conditioner.
Your electric bill is higher than your house payments.
You start putting ice cubes in your water bed.
You keep your refrigerator open just to feel the cool air.
You cancel your Hotmail account because you didn't like the name of it.


How do you know that it's hot?

Monday, August 23, 2010

Monday Meanderings - Aug 23

Update on our waitstaff friends: Erin, our Chuy's waitress, has moved to Korea with her husband, who is in the military. We think this is great news; counseling has evidently benefited this marriage. Julian, our friend with the hiccups is cured. A spoonful of peanut butter will stop them cold, he reports. Since hiccups have driven him to the emergency room on multiple occasions, we guess he knows what he is talking about.

We are focusing on Floodgate Sunday at church. Financially, we make up a normal budget for the year, then fund our "dream" programs with a one-time contribution. Sunday they introduced a wall where we can stick paper cut-outs and symbols that represent the cost of things that we divert to Floodgate - things like that cup of designer coffee, those new shoes, etc. Barb and I are thinking we will give up movies, eating in, and spa treatments.

Ran across a cupcake and ice cream eatery here in Austin named "Lick it, Eat it or Both."

The drought is almost over. Finally there are some mindless, meaningless NFL pre-season games on TV and the real football season is just ahead. Sigh.

She said: "You've got to rotate the shirts you wear. You keep wearing the same 3 blue shirts."

He said: "I like those shirts. They are comfortable."
She said: "You are going to wear them out, and then you'll have to wear other shirts."
He said: "I ordered some more shirts yesterday."
She said: "Let me guess. They are blue, right."
He said: "That's the only color they offer in Big and Squatty sizes."

The Prez came to town the other day. It's really remarkable how much effort goes into a presidential visit. Here's a picture of the secret service climbing the stairs that Obama will use later to deplane, and carefully examining... um, well, the sky.

Friday, August 20, 2010

The Santa Incident

When we left the Monterey Bay Aquarium we hopped on the trolley that loops through the area to go back to the parking garage. Barb and I were sitting, with others, on a longish bench that ran along the side of the trolley, behind the driver. Across from us was a friendly couple, and the woman - little old lady, actually - struck up a conversation with me about my beard, and how I really looked like I could play the part of Santa. That's a polite way of saying I have a belly that matches the beard. We talked about some of my experiences with the Santa hat, and she reiterated that I would make a good Santa.

Just as we got underway, a sack slipped from Barb's hand to the floor, and, gentleman that I am, I bent way down to retrieve it. But when I did, after being on my feet all day, I got a terrible muscle cramp - in my groin! Not just a tweak, not a twinge; but a screamer! It hurt, dear hearts, and it wasn't easing up. I'm about in tears and the only thought going through my mind was, "Must. Not. Massage. It." I mean I had just had this conversation with this sweet, grandmotherly-type woman about being a good Santa. No way could I sit there and rub my groin!

By now the trolley is moving right along, starting and stopping, going up hill and down, and I find it rather difficult to hold my position on the bench.  I found that there was just enough room between the seat back and the bench itself to stick my hand in and hold fast to keep me from sliding, and we proceeded up Cannery Row in this fashion, unable to do anything about the cramp, and holding on for dear life when the trolley started up a steep incline and the woman sitting to my left slid right down the bench and stopped. Sitting squarely on my hand.

I assume she thought my hand was part of the seat back, because she didn't move. At all. And now my new mantra is "Must. Not. Move. My. Hand!  Must. Not. Twitch!" Otherwise Santa, who just a moment ago was contemplating inappropriately touching himself, has now graduated to groping a total stranger! Finally the trolley turned down a hill, the lady slid off, and I nonchalantly removed my hand.

I have to hand it to Barb; when I quietly tried to explain why there were tears in my eyes, she showed a good deal of empathy by not laughing herself right off the bench. But it was close. Very close.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Monterey Bay

Barb and I decided we could retire in Monterey, California. What's not to like?

It has the climate - I just checked the temperature (at about 4pm) and it's 61 degrees. By contrast, here in Austin it is 104 degrees. One should bear in mind, however that it can get as low as 42 degrees in the winter,

It has a rich heritage as the seat of the Spanish government in the New World; it was the capital of California from 1777 to 1849, under the flags of Spain and Mexico.

It has character - read Steinbeck's "Cannery Row" and Tortilla Flats." Once a whaling center, it became the home of a flourishing sardine industry - until the fish played out. Robert Louis Stevenson walked these beaches and it is said received inspiration for "Treasure Island."

It has soul - the Monterey Jazz Festival is one of the longest-running music festivals of its kind. It is easier to name who hasn't appeared here than who has.

Adjacent to Cannery Row is the Fisherman's Wharf, lined with seafood restaurants ranging from casual, open-air clam bars, to formal indoor dining with views of the bay. Interspersed are gift shops, jewelry stores, art galleries, candy shops, etc. Whale watching tours and fishing trips leave from the wharf, and sea lions abound.


And it has the Monterey Bay Aquarium - arguably, one of the best aquariums in the world.

The Outer Bay exhibit features one of the world's largest single-paned windows -  actually five panes seamlessly bonded -  54 feet long, 17 feet high and 13 inches thick. You can view it from three levels.


At 28 feet, the Kelp Forest is one of the tallest aquarium exhibits in the world. The plants grow an average of four inches a day and require weekly underwater gardening; the surge machine which keeps the water in motion in the tank was built in part by David Packard (of Hewlett-Packard fame)  - who also provided the initial endowment for the aquarium.

The aquarium is built at the very end of Cannery Row (on the site of the Hovden Cannery, the last cannery on the Row to close in 1973, after sardine fishing collapsed). Part of the cannery is maintained as an active exhibit in the aquarium.


So, here's the deal on retiring there. If we become docents at the aquarium, we'll have shelter, access to restrooms, etc. When we get tired of docenting, we can just hang out on the wharf with the sea lions. Meals are simple. Every restaurant and clam bar on the wharf offers samples of their clam chowder to entice diners in for a bread bowl of chowder.  A simple sample-stroll should be quite filling. The only thing I haven't figured out is a place to sleep. You got to figure that if Pebble Beach Golf course is next door, the rent aint cheap. Maybe a little boat in the harbor. Who would notice? I'll get back to you on that part.


Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Monday Meanderings - Special Tuesday Edition

That's right folks, we did so much meandering this past week we have to have two installments.

I mentioned that you needed jackets to walk the beach in Santa Cruz. Early morning temperatures were in the low 50's - quite chilly. So on the way to breakfast I was surprised to see a group of young people across the street from our motel stripping out of warm clothing down to their bikinis (or Speedos, in some cases). Then they struggled to squeeze into wet suits so that they could go have a surfing lesson. The instructor had his wet suit partially on already and demonstrated the Michal Phelps look for the class.

Then they all trotted off to surf. Later, upon return, they all stripped out of the wet suits (much harder to get off than on, evidently) and showered off under a garden hose at the surf shop - still in the low 50's. You really have to want to surf under those conditions.


We had a traveling companion on this trip - Emily - the name bestowed on the persistent, if polite, voice of the GPS in Julie's car. Let me just say it up front. Emily has issues. I have maintained this to be the case since Emily urged me to turn left into an empty, muddy field on a previous visit. I should point out that it was dark, and I could not see that it was an empty, muddy field, but Emily should have been able to determine that. Every one pooh-poohs my contention that Emily led me astray on this occasion, telling me that I misunderstood her wishes. When I asked the boys to back me up, Jacob just said, "All I know is that the car sure was muddy when we got home."


But I was vindicated on this trip. Emily gave us the equivalent of a GPS raspberry by taking us on a grand tour of Watsonville, full circle in rush hour traffic when a simple right-hand turn would have been sufficient. Either that, or Emily has been suborned by the Chambers of Commerce of towns that we passed through to guide us only on the scenic and grand tour.

Sea lions are a big attraction at Monterey Bay, though I'm not sure why. They are awfully noisy and can be quite aggressive, if approached. And did you know that if you encounter an injured sea lion, as we did, there is a number to call (289-SEAL) and someone will come with cages and stretcher-type boards to rescue it and take it away for care?


And no, there's nothing wrong with these sea lions - they just naturally bend their necks like that. And lie on top of each other.

They were having a fine auto auction at the Bay. Now by fine, I'm talking expensive. These are not cars that you drive down to the beach and line up and let folks kick the tires. The place was overrun with huge auto transporters - enclosed 18 wheeler vans that haul one or two cars at a time. And the cars were all behind fences and you had to register (and put up a $10,000 bond!!! to become a bidder) plus pay $100 to get a catalog so you could make appointments to see any cars that you were interested in. Since we were flying back, I didn't bid this trip.


And if you are curious about why there is something in the foreground of this picture, you can ask my wife and she will be able to say "I told him that you can't trust that view finder." Again.

Tomorrow: More Monterey Bay!

Monday, August 16, 2010

Monday Meanderings - Aug 16

Is there a more desperate look than that on the face of the airline passenger who comes running - literally - up to the gate 2 minutes after they have closed the flight?

And I'm not saying that these regional jets are small, but when the pilot flips bags of peanuts over his shoulder to the passengers I think we've reached a new level.

And  I never cease to marvel at the 18 year-old "Elders" I encounter in the Salt Lake City airport.

Is there a more desolate stretch of real-estate on this earth than the desert between Salt Lake City and the Sierra Nevada mountains of California, stretching across Utah and Nevada? Arid, vegetation-less, barren, desolate; these are the words that come to mind. Yet, despite this, there was a fine spider web of roads crossing and criss-crossing the region. Some were paved and went ruler-straight as far as the eye could see. Most were just dirt tracks, following the valleys. Rarely, you saw houses or clusters of houses alongside these paths. I wonder who lives there, and for what reason?

Yes, we meandered out to sunny California this past week to be with Julie, Jason and the boys. They are in the count-down to back-to-school, but we stole a few days to sight-see and to enjoy being with them; especially during the cool mornings (and evenings) on the patio. Must get one of those.

We took a couple of days and went to the coast. First Santa Cruz, home of a historic and world famous board walk. However, there are no boards on the board walk - just concrete.


The beach at Santa Cruz  is quite different then Texas beaches. First, the water is too cold to swim in without a wet suit this far north. Needed jackets just to walk on the beach. And the sand is different; loose and deep, difficult to walk on without sinking down.


Then we dropped down the coast to historic Monterey Bay, home of the Fisherman's Wharf, Cannery Row and the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Much more about that in blogs to come.



I was fascinated by the cross-section of California that made up our trip. If you look on Google earth Fresno will be in a huge swath of green, bordered by the Sierra Nevada Mountains to the east and the Coast Ranges to the west. The green part is the San Joaquin Valley, where an amazing percentage of the nations food crops are grown. The crops one sees in the Fresno area seem to be tree or vine related; grapes, raisins, almonds, pistachios, olives, figs, etc.  Once you reach the Coast Ranges there are no crops of any kind; just dry grasslands and a few scrubby trees. You certainly get an understanding of the fire threat that these arid hills pose.

Then on the western side of the Coast Ranges cultivation resumes, but the crops that you notice over here seem to be mostly field crops - strawberries, garlic, artichokes, peppers, lettuce and tomatoes. We drove through Gilroy, the garlic capitol of the world - and it certainly smelled it. We missed the big Garlic Festival, more than 100,000 visitors sampling tasty delights like garlic ice cream and garlic french fries, but we smelled the cash crop; Gilroy Foods - in the middle of the town - processes more garlic than any other factory in the world!

We saw field after field of farm workers either harvesting or planting vegetables. Acres of strawberries being picked by hand. Back-breaking work. And the shadow of Cesar Chavaz was there; at every site were port-a-potties, chairs and shaded areas.

Closer to the coast the fields were full of artichoke plants, and since artichokes are an integral part of our clan we stopped at a stand to buy some. We knew we were buying local, if you live in Marina, California. Here's a photo from the parking lot:


See that guy right in the middle? That artichoke was on our dinner table the next evening. Well, okay, maybe it was 6 of his close relatives, but you get the point. And there certainly is an advantage of buying local - we bought 2 artichokes Saturday in Central Market for the same cost as the 6 in Marina.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Nostalgia Tripping

My sister Pat was in town a couple of weeks ago and spent the night with us. She had come to Austin to a reunion of sorts - she and two roommates from college got together for some food, fellowship and reminiscing. That in itself is a rather amazing story - that she had kept up with her roommates all this time; more than 60 years. I vaguely remember that I had a roommate in college. We didn't see each other that much, so we got along pretty good and stayed roommates until I got married. Okay, I'm lying exaggerating about not remembering him, but I confess that I have not kept up with him.

But the point of this story is my sister spending the night here. It seems only fair, because when I was much younger - a mere child - I spent the night at her house many times. My earliest recollection of those occasions is when she lived in the little community of Eliasville, near Breckenridge (at one time in Texas and Pacific Coal and Oil company housing nearby). This little community - which still claims a few residents - was home to her husband Arthur and his family, and I visited often. Later they lived in Fort Worth and the house I remember the most was close to the TCU campus, and just a short distance from our Aunt, Ina.

I have little recollection of why I would stay with her in Fort Worth - my parents were not into going places without me - but the memory is clear.  Sometimes, it would be just the two of us and the kids; Arthur's work often kept him on the road. And it seems that I would often stay there during holidays, especially New Years. I remember staying up and watching the ball drop in Times Square on a little black and white TV (long before we had TV at our house. She also had the 1st 45 RPM record player I ever saw).

And I was there at least once during Christmas. We watched some Christmas specials on TV and I remember clearly watching Harry Belafonte singing "Scarlet Ribbons."

I peeked in to say goodnight
When I heard my child in prayer
Send dear God, some scarlet ribbons,
Scarlet ribbons for my hair.

All the stores were closed and shuttered
All the streets were dark and bare
In our town no scarlet ribbons
Not one ribbon for her hair.

Through the night my heart was aching
Just before the dawn was breaking
I peeked in and on her bed
In gay profusion laying there
I saw ribbons, scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair.

If I live to be a hundred
I will never know from where
Came those lovely scarlet ribbons
Scarlet ribbons for her hair...

And I thought about that when my sister spent the night at my house.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

The Song of Ruth

 In my extensive travels in the Middle East, I met many unusual characters, but none more so than the old mystic I befriended in the desert region south of D'Kabeer. At our parting, he thrust an ancient manuscript in my hand and urged me to see that the story it contained came to light. It took me many years to translate the document, as it was written in the lost Q'ab language, which uses only 7 letters and 4 symbols, but I'm certain that I have captured the spirit, if not the essence of the document. Interestingly, it appears to be a fragment that retells the story of Ruth. It begins in mid-sentence.

...day Naomi says to Ruth, “Desperate times call for desperate measures; here’s what we’re going to do. You get all spiffed up – wear that little black number you wore at the wedding rehearsal. Oh, and use the good frankincense. Tonight I want you to go down to the threshing floor – it’s been a good year for Boaz and the party has been going on for a week. But being a respectable woman and all, don’t do what the saloon-hall girls from town do and show up when the party is first getting started. You wait until Boaz has had a lot to drink and can’t stay on his feet anymore, and when he sacks out on the cold, hard threshing floor you make your move.”

And Ruth, being the upright and honorable girl she is does what her mother-in-law tells her to, and when the lights are out, slips under the covers at Boaz’s feet. In the middle of the night, she says “Knock Knock.”
    Boaz is startled awake and he says, “Who’s there?”
    “Ruth.”
    “Ruth who?”
    “Ruth who is willing to marry you if you like what you see. I mean, if you think that’s a good idea.”
    Boaz says, “Halleluiah, my prayers have been answered. Look what I found in my bed!”
    And Ruth says, “You know, it’s a little chilly down here, Boaz. Mind sharing some of that blanket?”
    And Boaz, says, “Sure. You being a respectable woman and all that, just crawl under the covers here. We’ll have a prayer session and discuss improving local outreach, or what we can do to help community relations.”
 
So this respectable pair spends the night in chaste prayer and meditation, and just before it gets light, Boaz says, “Being a respectable woman and all that, you might want to slip out the back so no one sees you and gets the wrong idea about what we’ve been doing here. Oh, and before you go, here’s six measures of barley for your mother-in-law and tell her, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” So Ruth, being a respectable woman and all, slips out the back and pretends she’s coming home from an all-night Tupperware party.

Meanwhile, Boaz is thinking, “I’m in a bit of a pickle here. What if Achmed the Closest Relative wants to marry Ruth, and seeing as how I just spent the night with her in prayer and meditation, I might have some ‘splainin to do. Let’s see, I think I’ve got an idea.”
 
So Boaz beats it to the city gate and he’s there waiting for Achmed the Closest Relative when he comes into town for his morning Latte.
    “Achmed, old pal, old, buddy, old relative of mine! Take a load off and let me tell you what’s up. You know that land that belonged to Elimalech and his boys, may they rest in peace? You know, the creek-front property overlooking the community wine press? Well, Naomi wants to liquidate and she sent me to tell you, seeing as how you are the Closest Relative and all.”
    “Naomi wants to sell? She hasn’t said anything to me about it. I didn’t see a ‘For Sale’ sign when I passed by there this morning.”
    “No, no. This just came up last night. So she sent me to tell you, being the Closest Relative and all.”
    Achmed is thinking to himself, You know, I could subdivide that, or better yet, wait a few years and flip it for 10 times what I paid.  “I’ll buy it!” he says.
    “Good,” says Boaz. “Naomi will be happy to hear that. Oh, and there is one other thing, but of course I don’t have to tell you about the Law and that Moabite woman.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You know. If you buy the land then the Moabite woman comes with it. You know, the woman who grew up worshiping strange gods and has allegiances to who knows who? But that shouldn’t be a problem for you. And there is that matter of course, of her sons becoming your heirs.”
    “Uh, you know Bo, the truth of the matter is I’ve already got my will made out, and you know how expensive those suckers are to change. Plus, there’s likely to squabbling among the kids when I’m gone, what with some of them being half – well, you know. Now that I think about it, I think this might be a better deal for you than me.”
    “Really? You think so?”
    “Yeah, you go ahead and make the deal.”
    “Well, if you really think that’s what you want to do. Let me just ask these ten elders I conveniently have standing around here. Help me out guys. Did you hear what he said?”
    And all the elders said, “He said, no, Bo.”

At that Achmed has his shoe off so fast that he nearly lost a fingernail and slapped the shoe in Boaz ’s hand and shouted, “Deal!” And off goes Achmid, hippity-hop, one shoe on and one shoe off thinking what a close call that was! Meanwhile Boaz sets off to find his blushing bride-to-be, and in due time the happy couple named their first-born son Obed, which has no relationship to where his Daddy first got to know his Mommy really well, and Naomi got a tee-shirt that said “Ask me about my grandbaby” and started carrying a pocket full of photos, and all the neighbors said, “You know, somehow this reminds me of Tamar and Judah, but that all turned out well, and we hope this does too. Mozeltov, you guys. Mozeltov.”

Monday, August 9, 2010

Monday Meanderings - Aug 9

A bald headed Red Bird comes to our feeder. This is a male, and male Cardinals are supposed to look like this:


Imagine, if you will this Red Bird with no feathers on its head. The head is completely black with just a very few tufts of  feathers; no top notch.  I tried to create that image for you with a paint program, but I'm not that skillful. To be sure, Mr Cardinal is rather embarrassed about being bald; he's not a frequent visitor and he stays only long enough to grab a seed and leave. I keep trying to tell him that getting old is nothing to be ashamed of, but I think he needs hearing aids too. Then again, perhaps it's domestic. Does the term "snatched him bald headed" mean anything to you.?

Here's a little something to casually drop into a conversation. This August has 5 Sundays, 5 Mondays, and 5 Tuesdays, all in one month. It happens once in 823 years!

This piece of flotsam floated by on the Internet. It is interesting.

How many words do you know that are listed in the dictionary as an [adv], [prep], [adj], [n] or [v]? Especially 2-letter words?

It's easy to understand UP, meaning toward the sky or at the top of the list, but when we awaken in the morning, why do we wake UP?

At a meeting, why does a topic come UP? Why do we speak UP, and why are the officers UP for election and why is it UP to the secretary to write UP a report? We call UP our friends, brighten UP a room, polish UP the silver, warm UP the leftovers and clean UP the kitchen. We lock UP the house and  fix UP the old   car.

At other times this little word has real special meaning. People stir UP trouble, line UP for tickets, work UP an appetite, and think UP excuses.  To be dressed is one thing but to be dressed UP is special. And this UP is confusing:  A drain must be opened UP because it is stopped  UP. We open UP a store in the morning but we close it UP at night. We seem to be pretty mixed UP about UP !

To be knowledgeable about the proper uses of UP, look UP the word UP in the dictionary.. In a desk-sized dictionary, it takes UP almost 1/4 of the page and can add UP to about thirty definitions. If you are UP to it, you might try building UP a list of the many ways UP is used. It will take UP a lot of your time, but if you don't give UP, you may wind UP with a hundred or more.

When it threatens to rain, we say it is clouding UP . When the sun comes out we say it is clearing UP. When it rains, it is soaked UP by the earth. When it does not rain for awhile, things dry UP. One could go on & on, but I'll wrap it UP, for now  ........my time is UP, so I'll shut UP.

Inscribed on the chalk board at Poke Jo's BBQ --- "Sleep until you are hungry; eat until you are sleepy." I think I just found a new philosophy of life.

And I leave you with what appears to be an ordinary snapshot. But I remind you that this is Austin. Look again.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Eureka!

I have mentioned before that if you are a true Texan, you should be in the oil bidness - even if it is only a .00084151 percent share. But every time I received a royalty check I wondered just where my well was physically located. I tried calling Ridge Oil, being such an important lease holder of theirs and such, to ask if they could help me locate the well. The nice lady who answered the phone must have been in awe of an important lease holder calling, because she just sort of didn't have much to say, except that "it was in Stephens County somewhere."

Well, I knew that Ma'am, but just where in Stephens County? A lot of holes have been punched in that county, starting with the big boom back in 1916, and there are pump jacks all over the place! Where was mine?

Then, in the great picture search, I uncovered this photo:

On the back, in my father's handwriting is "Oil well at Breckenridge." I know of no other reason for a picture of a drilling rig to be in the family pictures unless it is the oil well that was poised to bring untold wealth to the family. At last, there was visual evidence of where the well was. But just where was that picture taken?

I spent several hours virtually driving up and down the streets of Breckinridge by way of Google Street maps, and never located it. It had to be somewhat close to the homestead, but for the life of me I could not find those buildings. For good reason, it turns out. Because they are no longer there! I sent a copy of the picture to a friend who still lives in Breckenridge, and he circulated it among his family, and finally his wife figured out that the L & L Family Restaurant now occupies this land, at the northwest corner of the intersection of West Walker and North Live Oak Street. Originally, the building with the tall column in the picture is where Polly's Flower Shop used to be.  The building on the left had the Cabbage Patch, The Dandelion and Dolores's Hair Fashion; it was called the Corner Village - none of which stands today. Thank you Houston and Sally!

Sure enough, back to Google Street View, jog up Live Oak and turn west at the corner of West Elm, and there - in plain sight - is my oil well! Eureka!


I feel so much better now that I know I can go look at my well anytime I want to bask in the glow of being in the oil bidness. Keep on pumping.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

I once dated a girl...

... named Amala Knight. Well, perhaps date is too strong a term. I once was acquainted with a girl named Amala Knight and we had a short social relationship one summer. This was about my sophomore year in high school; Amala lived in Fort Worth, but she visited her grandmother, who lived in Breckenridge. Her grandmother lived close to friends from church, and that's how I met Amala, as I recall.

Our social relationship consisted of sitting on her grandmother's porch and meeting a few times at Miller Park at the swimming pool. One Sunday afternoon, when I was in Fort Worth with my parents, I persuaded my father to let me take the car and drive to Amala's house on the west side of Fort Worth and I took her to a movie. Thinking back, I am amazed that my father actually let me do that. I think that they had to keep my mother wrapped in a wet sheet until I got back.

Oh, and we also corresponded. I've mentioned before that it used to be expensive to call long distance, and there was no Internet, texting, IM, Twitter, Facebook, etc., etc., etc. We wrote letters! Mother couldn't figure it out. She thought I was receiving mail from a motel chain named Alamo Nights.

And Amala honey, if you are still out there and wander by this blog, I'm sorry that I didn't write back after school started, but you know how busy it can get, yada, yada, yada. Or maybe it was you that stopped writing me, in which case I forgive you, but you really broke my heart. Just saying.

OK that's it. That's the whole story of my semi-dating Amala Knight. Not much of a blog post. In fact, Barb cautioned, "Don't expect many links to this post."

But wait. There's more.

Amala Knight came to my mind after all these years because I woke up in the middle of the night last night with the words "I ONCE DATED A GIRL NAMED AMALA KNIGHT" screaming in my mind! I do this sometimes. I wake up and I have an entire short story or blog or libretto running through my mind like a train!  There's no more sleep, so most often I get up and write down my story. I call it my "divine inspiration." Barb calls it indigestion. Once I "received" a fragment of an apocryphal book about Ruth of the Old Testament. I called it "Song of Ruth." I'll have to find that and post it; it provides a whole new dimension on the relationship between Ruth and Boaz. But I digress.

When I woke up last night I had the entire first part of this blog mapped out in my mind, just as it is written above. But I couldn't go back to sleep. So I got up and wondered if - with a name that unusual - could I find Amala Knight on the Internet? Yes, I could. And I did. I found an amazing amount of stuff - where she went to High School, where she lived after that, when her father died, that she and her husband are 5K runners, where she lives now, and much more. I even found her on Facebook. Her profile picture is of an attractive woman who married well - she's wearing a diamond as big as Dallas - and she's proudly (?) holding up her Medicare Insurance card - a rite of passage for those of us who have reached a certain age. She's not a big user of Facebook - only one message since she joined back in March.

Hey! I know! I could ask her to be my friend! Let's see, the message to her would be something like, "Amala, you probably don't remember me but we "dated" some in high school - FIFTY YEARS AGO - and I thought you were hot then but WOW your Facebook picture is smokin' and I found a bunch of stuff about you on the Internet and maybe we could like, you know, get together sometime, OR I COULD JUST STALK YOU ON THE INTERNET! Wanna' be my friend? heh-heh-heh." Ummm, no. No way.

So I should stop right here and tell you that Amala Knight is NOT really the name of the girl I knew. Her actual name is very distinctive (and does sound like a motel chain) but I made up an alias because I realized that all of this is just a little weird and a surprising number of hits on my blog come from Google searches on topics that I never would have imagined, and it sort of does sound like I'm stalking an old girlfriend. So just to be safe...

That's all I have to say about this now, except that I really, really do hope I sleep better tonight. And I suspect that you do too.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Monday Meanderings - Aug 2

After a couple of days of rain cooled things down somewhat, I thought last Thursday morning would be a good time to get some of the bushes and vines trimmed back down on the lower 40. Until I walked into a veritable cloud of mosquitoes! Covered head to toe in seconds. I think the bushes can wait til Fall, thank you.

I love this town. One of the TV stations is running a series during newscasts on "How nice are Austinites?"  In one episode, a lady stood waiting for a bus with a long trail of toilet paper hanging from her skirt. Would anyone tell her? Most of the passing women did - guys just ignored her. The other night they had someone in a squirrel suit feigning car trouble, asking for help. Most people responded to his pleas. Now I ask you. In what other town would people on the street think it was normal for someone to be dressed up in a squirrel suit - complete with bushy tail? Weird on, Austin!

Stopped by a McDonalds the other morning. There was a guy there working on some piece of equipment, and as I left, he walked out to his vehicle to get a part or tool or something. You're familiar with the vans that service persons drive - wire cage in the back with racks of tools and parts and such? Only this van was a Cadillac Escalade. The service business is more profitable than I thought.

I recognize that as I get older my hearing loss becomes more pronounced. But I was getting pretty discouraged over not being able to hear my podcasts clearly on my iPod while I exercise. I turned the volume all the way up, I screwed the earbuds in so tight my eyes bulged. Wasn't helping. Finally tried a new set of earphones. WOW, THAT'S LOUD! Nobody told me that you should clean your earbuds from time to time!

Accidentally caught part of a Sports Nation program with coach Herm Miller talking about Dez Bryant, rookie for the Cowboys, refusing to carry a veterans gear - part of the ubiquitous initiation of training camp. Herm said it was no big deal. Veterans have a way of working these things out. He said he would not be surprised to hear that before camp is over Bryant would spend the night duct-taped to the goal post - with the sprinklers on.

The honeymoon is over at Wal-Mart as far as the new carts are concerned. Even the new carts go thump-thump-thump now. They must have a back room where they grind flat spots into the wheels. Sigh.

Saw a woman at church yesterday that looked just a bit goth - black hair, black dress, black (not quite Doc Martins) boots, black handbag. That had white images silk-screened on it. Of automatic rifles. AK-47s, Uzis, etc. I wondered if she had some issues, and if so did I want to be the one to volunteer to help her work through them? I don't think so.

And if you encountered this sign, wouldn't you be just the teeniest bit hesitant to push the button? Sure, it's just a gag. Isn't it?  Me, I think I would just wait for the light to change on its own.