Serve Out

Last blog entry for the month of May. My, how time flies when you are having fun. And, as luck would have it, I've been doing some cleaning of accumulated Internet detritus, so here's a serving of left-overs. Let's start with a couple of bad ideas; like who is feeding who to what?

And Dad - this is just too much information!

"That's right, Brother. It's on the next shelf."

Uh, Mom? Mom?

 

Signs are a wonderful source of information. Sometimes TMI!

 So does this mean free samples? A demo? Second prize is...?

Well, certainly not!

 

Beats a guard duck.

 

I sense a disconnect here.

 

 But not here.

If I have to choose...

 

 Good advice.

 Why, yes, officer. I can give you a description of the car.

Monday Meandering - 5.28.2012

Made a trip to Lubbock this past weekend to see some Grands - and their Mom and Dad, of course. Of course. As is normal with us, our first break along the way was at the DQ in Goldthwaite. And, as always, I wished aloud that we had kept count of the number of times we had stopped at that particular DQ in our travels.

After we got back on the road, Barb began to do a little calculating, and quickly established that the DQ was on our route when we were dating and going back and forth from several of the places she lived. That means we have been stopping there for more than 50 years! During that period of time we moved to Austin, so we began making trips back to see my folks, or to the Lake Cabin. Then we went through a long stretch of time with kids in school in Abilene and later, living there for a period.

After the kids left Abilene, Barb and I made the trip a dozen or so times just to go to church there. Now we've got kids in Lubbock, so we are still traveling that road and stopping at the Goldthwaite DQ. So, how many stops is that? We still don't know, but it would not be unreasonable to think we made that trip an average of 4 or 5 times a year. Over a 50 year period, with a stop both going and returning, that's 400 to 500 DQ visits. I think we should get a plaque or something up on the wall!

Sitting on the patio the other morning, and I heard a "snap" and looked up in time to see a squirrel falling from the upper reaches of a tree. It landed without harm in a bush, and scampered off. If the squirrel was embarrassed because I witnessed his fall, he got his revenge by taking another choice tomato later in the day, in broad daylight!

Only in Austin. You are no doubt aware of the "flash mobs" that show up unexpectedly in various places and dance, or sing, or whatever. The City of Austin decided we needed a flash mob to show up at City Hall, so they hired a choreographer, commissioned songwriters to come up with a catchy song, paid professionals to record it, advertised for dancers, and announced when this all was to occur so no one would miss it! So much for spontaneity. And for some reason Homeland Security is paying for it all! No, I don't know either.

Zoo signs

I came across this collection of signs found in zoos around the world. Ignore at your own risk.

The CPAP Saga - Part III

Want to make a lot of money? Are you just waiting for that idea that's going to put you on easy street? Listen up, this is your lucky day.

If you have been following this blog you know I'm now using a CPAP machine to prevent Obstructive Sleep Apnea. Yes, I've had a lot to say about that subject lately, but if you slept with something strapped to your face and connected with a hose to a leaf blower, you would too. It's a big deal.

In Part II, I described how I had switched to a full face mask. That proved to be an unmitigated disaster. Facial hair may have had something to do with it, but the bottom line is that about every hour and a half, the mask would have a "blow out." Under normal operation, the mask is "sealed" to your face by the air pressure; with a blow out, the in-coming air just lifts the mask off and sounds like Old Faithful.

So I'm back to the mask that stuffs silicon "pillows" up your nose and injects air directly into your sinuses. But you may recall that the problem there is that if your mouth comes open while you are asleep, all the air escapes (loudly) and by morning you end up with your tongue super-glued to the roof of your mouth, not to mention a lack of therapeutic benefit.

The erst-while solution to the open mouth is a chin strap. Something that looks like this:

That would be a good idea except for feeling like the principal character in The Man in the Iron Mask when you strap this puppy on. And it is by no means fool-proof.

So here's the part about getting rich. All we have to do is come up with some comfortable fool-proof, non-permanent way to keep one's mouth shut while sleeping. I think we have to rule out glue, tape and needles and thread, but I'm open to almost anything else.

I've done the hard part. I already have a name for the product: "I'll Shut My Mouth Now," which was Job's response to the Lord's pointed and humbling questions at the end of that bible story. So, all we need now is the product itself. Let me know what you come up with - I'm going to be busy setting up the web site.

Monday Meanderings - 5.21.2012

 
If you are keeping score (and I am) of the tomato harvest, here's the count, after the picture above:

• Us - 3
• Squirrels - 5 (including those two near-ripe beauties on the right)
• Still in play - 5

I need to borrow a shotgun, please.
 
It's official. Google searches for "The Running Man" which return my blogs on the dude that runs up and down the HEB median are now second to searches for "old records" which returns my entry about the mystery album of old 78 rpm phonograph records that I found on the shelf. Interestingly, most of these inquiries come from outside the United States, and most have been within the last month. I have no idea what prompted that.
 
I noticed the other day that every time we are driving somewhere, Barb's hands are always in a prayerful position. I think there's a subtle message there.
 
They announced yesterday was to be "Senior Sunday" at church, so I dressed up so that I would look good when they recognized us Seniors. Shoot, they didn't even ask us to stand up. They didn't even have a Senior Moment! I showed them, however. I deducted 10% from my contribution.
 
And I want you to look carefully at this:
 

 

Yes, it's bacon, BUT... it's candied bacon! Coat with brown sugar and cinnamon and bake until you can't wait any more. Excuse me while I add a few pounds!
 

More police blotter goodies

Last week I re-posted some items from the Lufkin Police blotter, as reported in the Texas Monthly Daily Post. Now it seems that folks in Wise County, north-west of Fort Worth, claim their police blotter is as weird as that of Lufkin. You be the judge; here are 22 items from the Wise County Messenger since last November:

April 22
“Several residents stopped a woman and chastised her because she had been speeding down the road.”

April 20
“A couple going through a break-up called the Sheriff’s Office to help them mediate their disagreements.”

April 18
“A homeowner in Boonsville reported that he found a bottle of rubbing alcohol and the remnants of a small fire made out of twigs on the floor in his shed. He had no idea how they got there.”

April 4
“In the latest episode of an ongoing dispute between neighbors, one of them tossed a dead rat at the other one and went inside.”

April 3
“A couple living in Briar got into an argument over baking flour.”

March 27
“A man returned to his home in Poolville after being gone for several days to discover a cat locked in one of the rooms. He also noticed that the microwave door was mysteriously open.”

March 16
“A boy at a home in Chico had ‘cold hot chocolate’ thrown at him after he mouthed off to his mother’s boyfriend.”

March 9
“A family got into an argument over a son’s lifestyle choices.”

February 21
“Cigarettes and a dog grooming kit were burglarized from a trailer home.”

February 13
“A man reported that his neighbor spilled paint all over his porch. The neighbors said it was just an accident, and they’ll clean it up.”

February 5
“A man got into an argument with his son because the boy is lazy.”

January 28
“A man reported that someone drove by his truck and looked at it.”

January 22
“A property owner was upset because a neighbor drives around on their land looking for cows that wandered off.”

January 6 brought a trio of crimes involving ungulates:
“Unknown suspects placed a dead goat in the bed of a pickup and stole a spare tire from the vehicle while it was parked at Paradise High School.”
“A woman reported that her neighbor’s dog killed her sheep.”
“A woman’s goat was killed by her neighbor’s dogs.”

January 2
“A woman reported that a delivery driver stole her house cat.”

December 26
“Two geese were stolen.”

December 19
“A woman purchased cows, and she said the wrong cows were delivered to her farm.”

December 17
“What was first believed to be a burglary at a residence was simply a case of toys being stored out of place.”

December 8
“A man reported that his mother was harassing his Realtor.”

December 6
“A woman reported that her husband was in possession of child pornography. After further investigation, it turned out to only be a collection of Penthouse and Hustler magazines.”

Growing up in a small church

John Acuf recently posted some thoughts as to why he thought it better to grow up in a small church. That got me to thinking about my own experiences and the little congregation I attended during my youth. Here's my take on the subject:


1.  Your Sunday School teacher was a lock.
There was only one teacher and one class for each age group you were in: my mother, Margie Woods, Dorothy Brannon, Johnny Brannon, and Atkins Wright. 1st grade through high school. Even the rooms remained the same. You started near the back door in the basement and worked your way up the hall and finally finished in the closed-in balcony upstairs.

2. So was your dating potential.
In a small church the available girls to date was a fixed number. A small, fixed number. Sure, there were non-church girls one could date, but if your intent was to stay with the sanctified (and there was a lot  of pressure to do so), the pickings were slim. There were the Brannon girls, one older and one younger than me; Judy Wright, all-too soon claimed by Jerry Gibson, Helen Davis, two years older than me,  a couple of friends of friends that couldn't be counted on as regular attenders, and a couple of girls whose names I confess I can't remember. New girls moving to town were really, really big news. Some came for the summer, some actually moved to Breckenridge, and one visited her aunt occasionally. I'll tell that story sometime. Maybe.

3. You learned to sing four-part harmony.
Our little congregation sang old-time songs in four-part harmony. More or less. We used a shaped note songbook, as did many conservative fellowships in the South, and every Wednesday night all the junior and senior high students gathered for singing tutelage led by Ross Greenlee, barber, deacon and song-leader. The boys took turns leading, the girls looked on admiringly and added harmony.

And we did learn to sing, and read music, as long as it was in the shaped note notation. Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So L, Ti, Do. And there was never a problem for a guest song leader picking songs. When Ross Greenlee lead singing, which was almost every Sunday, he wrote the numbers of his song picks on the flyleaf of the song book. Eventually, every book in the house had one or more selection sets; just pick up a book, check the fly leaf and you were all set. Not possible to lead a song the congregation didn't know. Of, course, that was moot - we knew every song in the book.

4. Every adult could discipline you.
And often did. There was an unspoken agreement that any adult who went to your church had the right to set your feet back on the straight and narrow, if needed. On baby dedication day at our present church, we stand and say we will be the community that nourishes, guides and chastens those children as they grow. At a small church they really do that.  Especially the chasten part.

5. Potluck dinners were something to behold.
We attend a large congregation these days, and there simply is no way to have an all-church potluck dinner with 1,400 people spread between two worship services. There will be groups or sub-sections of the congregation that will have a potluck from time-to-time, but the day of the all-church meal together is over for our congregation. Instead, “fellowship” time looks more like Starbucks as we gather around the coffee urns between services. I have blogged before about the culinary delights that come from church pot-luck dishes. Especially those dishes that were prepared in the era of my upbringing. Shame on the first person who brought KFC to the church dinner!

How about you? Do you have any small church memories to share?

Monday Meanderings - 5.14.12

I can assure you that the recent heavy rains, each in excess of two inches, are most appreciated. Our too-low lakes got a much needed boost, and we have a chance of keeping our lawns green until at least June.

Two of our favorite waitresses are, or soon will be, on maternity leave. We've been leaving baby bibs for tips. Strangely, none of the other waitresses seem available when we come in - only the guys.

She said: "Remind me to look up the number for the agency in charge of the "Missing Elderly" highway signs, so I'll have it when I need it."
He said: "I should have turned back there, right?"

My allergist was out of the office this past week. He was in Seattle to support his daughter's efforts to win a trip into space. The first part of the contest was simply, "Vote for Me" but the finalists had to perform "astronaut-like" endeavors, including answering a series of questions while running around the rim of the Space Needle. Yikes! She came in second, much to her mother's relief.

Graduation announcements in the mail, photos of proud graduates on Facebook, going to a popular restaurant at 2 in the afternoon this past weekend and having to wait for a table - it must be that time of the year. I recall my Senior year in college, discovering about two weeks before the end of the semester that if I could wrangle enough retroactive performance credits out of my professors, I would have enough hours to graduate.

Performance credits were awarded at the conclusion of the semester, after you had appeared in stage presentations, or worked a certain number of hours back stage. I don't remember how many I set out to collect; I just remember going to this professor and saying, "Dr. So-and-so is okay with these credits if you are," and then going to Dr. So-and-so and saying, "Professor Such-and-such is okay with the credits if you are." I barely had time to rent the cap and gown, but I did graduate with my class.

Seen on the Internet: "How many lawyer jokes are there? Just three. The rest are all true."

Read any good police blotters lately?

From the Texas Monthly Daily Post:


We’re not sure if more strange things necessarily happen in Lufkin than in other small towns, but whoever is running the Lufkin Daily News’ police blotter has a great appreciation for the absurd.

The crime in Lufkin ranges from the very mundane to the very bizarre, and nearly each day the police blotter seems to contain a new gem. We’ve compiled our favorites from April below:

April 29
“An employee reported that a customer threw drinks and cursed at him and other employees at a business.”

April 28
“A two-piece love seat was reported stolen from a store Thursday.”

April 28 
“A shoplifter was caught stealing underwear from Walmart Thursday afternoon.”

April 27
“A man reported to Lufkin Police that a pair of shoes valued at $500 were stolen from him while he was in jail.”

April 25
“SpongeBob SquarePants water shoes caused a Lufkin woman to be ticketed by police Tuesday. … The woman put the shoes on her child’s feet and then they walked out of a store and left in a Lincoln sedan. Police tracked the woman to her home and ticketed her for Class C misdemeanor theft. She then gave the shoes back, telling them she forgot to pay for them.”

April 19
“Small trees were reportedly damaged Tuesday on an open lot.”

April 19
“A shoplifter was caught stealing underwear and bathing suits Tuesday.”

April 17
“A woman stealing beer from a store fled on foot after her family member refused to let her back in the vehicle with the stolen merchandise Monday.”

April 11
“In response to a confrontation about illegal dumping, a man reportedly dropped his pants to moon two women and a child Monday. Police documented the man’s alleged offense as disorderly conduct-offensive gesture.”

April 9
“A man threw a bag of M&Ms candy at a store employee on Sunday night, according to a Lufkin Police report. The report stated that the man entered the store, stole an unknown amount of items and was being chased out of the store by the employee when he threw the candy.”

April 3
“A purse was found floating in a ditch full of water Sunday.”

April 3
“A man reportedly took a six pack of Budlight to the store bathroom, hid it in his clothes and then walked out Sunday.”

The CPAP Saga - Part II

A few posts back I blogged that I am now going to bed each night with something that looks like the embryonic creature from Alien wrapped around my face, with a pneumatic hose that connects the face-apparatus to an air compressor. In other words, I now use a CPAP machine.

Frankly, it's going better than expected. I'm exceeding the nightly minimum usage requirement (which means Medicare will pay for a portion of the cost). I'm getting up in the middle of the night less than I was - but part of that may be because you have to disconnect yourself from the apparatus if you need to go get a drink or go to the bathroom, and then reattach your umbilical cord and re-adjust everything when you come back to bed. Too much trouble.

And my spouse is delighted. After she got over the anxious moment caused by absolute silence from my side of the bed the first night, she is exulting in the joy of a snore-free environment. I still deny that I snored.

But "leakage" continues to be a problem. I started out using a nasal "pillow" mask, which piped the constant stream of air up your nose. Okay, unless you open your mouth, in which case all the air blows out and you sound like the little steam engine that could. And guess what? Almost everyone opens their mouth at some point when they sleep.

The supposed solution to that is to add a chin strap to hold your mouth closed. I say supposed, because when you wake in the morning and all your mouth parts are cemented together in one dry, moisture-less clump, you know that the chin strap did not work. At some point you opened your mouth and the constant air flow turned your mouth, tongue and cheeks into the Gobi Desert! Plus, as I pointed out, the escaping air often makes a ppppbbbbttt!!! sound, which is as annoying as snoring.

So, I have switched to a full face mask, one that covers both the nose and mouth, so unless air escapes out of your ears, the problem is solved. Now, instead of wearing what looks like the Spiderman mask to bed, I get to wear a large plastic bowl on my face. Here's a picture of me in my jammies and CPAP mask, all ready for bed.

I'll keep you posted.

Monday Meanderings - 5.07.12

I hope you had a festive Cinco de Mayo - that Mexican anniversary of note celebrated exclusively in the US. It's strictly a Norte Americano tradition.

I blame the Californians. So many of them have moved to Austin we will soon use up all of our area code 512 telephone numbers. Before long, we'll be just like Houston and Dallas and all the other Metro areas across the country with multiple area codes. No more simple 7-digit numbers; now we'll have to choose either 512 or 737 and dial the whole thing to talk to our next door neighbor. However, that will make it easier to identify who is a Johnny-Come-Lately vs. us old-timers. "Got a 737 number? You must be one of those immigrants that's ruining things for the rest of us."

I discovered a new aspect of the CPAP machine Saturday night. If the electricity goes off in the middle of the night and the airflow stops, you waken to a sucking noise. That would be you, trying to get some much-needed oxygen. The technician assures us that the mask cannot suffocate you, but they didn't mention waking up suddenly wondering where the air went.

I don't think the pest control company advertising on TV fully thought out the implications of having a home owner say, "I've really gotten to know my exterminator."

I am delighted to announce that at long last, I successfully prepared a waffle the other day. If you think that's no big deal, you're new to this blog, aren't you? Unfortunately, in the excitement of the moment of removing a golden-brown, completely formed, nothing-left-sticking-to-the-iron waffle I neglected to take a picture, but it was sweet, trust me!

Did you hear the one about the guy that fell into the upholstery machine? He's now completely recovered.

Your Great-Grandfather was a Telephone Man - Stories for my grandchildren

I came across this article the other day, clipped from a 1937 issue of the Southwestern Bell Newsletter. A "Combinationman" is exactly that - a telephone company jack-of-all-trades, and a "Toll Circuit" is a long-distance telephone line. Open wires used to be strung from pole to pole between telephone company offices, or "Plants," and the combinationmen followed the lines through the open country to repair problems.

Plant Man Who "Rides Herd" on Big Bend Toll Circuits Carries Bed Roll and Chuck Box

Once Entertained Large Group of Stranded Motorist Near Brim of Swollen Arroyo

-----------------

By B. B. Ward

Combinationman J. L. Anderson of Fort Stockton, Texas, who, expressing it in the language of the cowboys of that section "rides herd" on part of the Bell plant in the Big Bend, has adopted a custom of the native punchers. When out on long patrol trips, or in clearing trouble on the toll lines that stretch for endless miles across that part of Texas known as the land "West of the Pecos," he carries a roll of blankets and a box of grub.

Andy says he does not follow this practice because he enjoys camping out in the great open spaces, but as he has to spend a night out on the road occasionally due to high water or breakdowns, he finds it more comfortable if prepared for such emergencies.

The grub box contains a frying pan, tin cups, plates and the other usual items of a picnic box in addition to a small supply of bacon, potatoes and staple foods that make a feast when cooked outdoors on an open fire. At mealtime a repairman, in that vast section of semi-desert country where one man covers a district larger than some of the New England States, often finds that he is fifty miles from a cafe.

If he doesn't bring food with him he goes hungry, and no one forgets the water canteen but once. The experience is such that they learn the lesson well. The same is true of those who fail to take an adequate supply of gas and oil, as the filling stations are not just around the corner or the next corner either.

On one occasion Anderson had the pleasure of acting as host to a group of automobile travelers who, with himself, were forced to spend a night on the road miles from town. A heavy rain had caused high water in the un-bridged arroyos making the road impassable. One of the party of stranded motorists was distressed because he could not fill a speaking appointment that night. Andy connected his test set to the nearby toll line and the man put in a long distance call explaining his absence.

From the tools on the telephone company truck, Anderson produced an ax with which fire wood was cut. He then prepared an appetizing meal for the party from his chuck box. As the night grew chilly, he spread his bed roll around the camp fire and made everyone comfortable. The emergency lantern supplied light for tire repair on one of the cars. The following morning rope from the truck was used to pull a car that had slipped into the ditch back on to the road.

Everyone of the party heartily agreed that had it not been for the telephone company representative and his equipment a pleasant night spent under the stars would have been a most unpleasant experience.

The CPAP Saga - Part I

If you have not been following the sleep study/CPAP stories, here's the recap:

• I convinced Barb that waking up tired every morning might be related to the poor sleep patterns I was observing. Bottom line is she had a sleep study and now uses a CPAP machine.
• A promise is a promise. She said, "Right back at ya" concerning my own poor sleep habits (read: snoring) so I agreed to the same test.
• My sleep study was a wretched experience, and when the doctor wanted me to repeat the test for the "titration" part, I told them the only way I would do that again was with  "a gun to my head." That statement is apparently now part of my permanent record. 
• Sleep Study notwithstanding, I now have my own CPAP machine.

All of this is because of several different medical conditions lumped under the name "sleep apnea" which might occur and cause one to wake repeatedly during the night; in my case about 46 times an hour. Not awake awake, but enough awake to get a lousy night's sleep, plus trigger other undesirable problems, like death. 

The most common cause of sleep apnea is soft tissue in the mouth and throat relaxing and closing the airway, shutting off the flow of oxygen until the brain gets uptight about it and wakes you up. Sort of. That's where the CPAP machine comes in - Constant Positive Airway Pressure. Basically it's a little air compressor. and to use it you put on a breathing mask of one type or another, hook a hose between the mask and the machine and turn it up to, oh, about 200 lbs psi and then try to get some sleep. 

With all that air being rammed down your throat. the soft tissue doesn't close, the brain gets all the rich, ripe oxygen it needs, and you wake up a happy camper. At least that's the theory. Did I mention the part about strapping a mask on your face? And that there is a hose in bed with you? And you don't want that sucker to slip around so there's some industrial-strength straps to hold it on. And if you have facial hair, like me, you use a mask that sticks little "pillows" up your nostrils and seals them off so all the air can be blown into your sinuses.

So doesn't this high-pressure air being injected up your nose want to come out of your mouth? Yes, and it sort of sounds like Darth Vader is in bed with you when it does. Since one wants to avoid this. one uses a chin strap to hold your mouth shut; then the air just sort of squirts out through your lips and makes pppppbbbbbtttt noises. Some resort to gluing their lips together (you can't make this up, folks), but that's not recommended. Duh!


So how is this working out thus far? I have a long way to go before I can say, "I love my CPAP machine" but the first night I used it, Barb had to poke me to see if I was still alive. Since I wasn't snoring, she figured I had put the mask on backwards and had suffocated. She loves it. 


I'll have more to say about this later.