Tornado or straight line winds - who cares?

Let me begin this section of the Great Memorial Weekend Storm Adventure by saying that, in perspective, what happened at our house in no way compares to the loss and devastation suffered by literally thousands of people in the Central Texas area this past weekend. Ours is but a blip on the scale.

If you draw a straight line northeastward from an area on the west side of north IH35, then across the highway at a U-Haul facility, then crossing over our house and proceeding to an apartment complex near Tech Ridge, on Sunday morning you would have found:

 

The weather service has confirmed that the damage at the U-Haul place was caused by a "small tornado." I'm not sure how they determine that, but the label is moot: at about 9:45pm everything went whoosh and the lights went out. It was raining so hard that we didn't even hear the winds that passed over - either in a straight line or spinning. And it was all over in a matter of minutes.

The good news? No damage to the house. More good news? The tree service will not have to charge me for putting up ladders and roping limbs down. Everything is right there on the ground.

The great power (less) adventure

Last Saturday night a brief, sudden rainstorm hit our area. There were high winds and heavy rain, accompanied by the ominous sounds of limbs cracking outside. Uh Oh.Then the lights flickered a few times... and went out completely. We sat in the glow of our little night-light flashlight that comes on when the power goes off and waited. And waited.

After a bit I got up and found the larger battery-operated lantern, and then we waited some more. Peering out the front window, we could catch lightning glimpses of tree limbs in the driveway and near the street. Yes, the poor pecan tree had given up still more limbs.

By about 10:30pm we began to realize that there was not going to be a quick turn around, electricity-wise, so we went to bed in the dark. Barb and I were a bit restless throughout the night, and about 5am we noticed flashing lights out back. When I came to the patio door to look, I could see that the flickering was from a fire - a brightly-burning torch of flame coming from what looked like the neighbor's towering Ash tree.

About the time I got 911 on the line I began to see men with flashlights in the neighbor's yard, and the 911 dispatch confirmed that the fire had already been reported and that firemen were on the scene. Barb and watched the strange flame for a bit, and just as I was searching (in the dark) for my phone to get some video of the fire, there was a big bang and the lights in our house came on for a second - and then went off again! Barb heard someone say, "Well, that put it out!" meaning that the crossed wires that were arcing and burning had burnt in two.

In a bit a fireman came to our door to tell us that there were lines down in the back yard and to not venture out there, because in addition to the electrical lines, a big tree was being held up only by power lines and might fall any minute!

When it got light enough to see, we could tell (by looking out the windows, of course) that there were 3 very large trees down in our backyard, including the one tangled up in the power lines. And the pecan limbs in the front were blocking the driveway. We were trapped in our dark, powerless, Internet - less, A/C - less house.

So while Barb was texting around to get someone to cover the Bible class she was scheduled to teach that morning, I was thinking about getting the driveway clear. Fortunately, I have a small chainsaw for emergencies like this. A small, electric chainsaw. Oh well.

The adventure continued when a couple of guys came to the door a little later and asked if I wanted to hire them to get all those limbs cut up and stacked for City pick-up. I negotiated him down from $27,000 (really, that was his starting price; I guess anything after that sounded trifling) and we struck a deal. He said they would go get their chain saw and be right back.

They did return and I got them to clear a path in the driveway just barely wide enough for Barb to get her car out, so she headed off to church while I stayed to supervise Paul Bunyan and his son, Ox. Unfortunately it wasn't long before their chainsaw sputtered to a stop, so they said they had to go get another saw - be right back.

They did come back in about 30 minutes, but never got the 2nd saw started. Really, guys? You didn't check it out before you made the drive? They worked on it a long while, then they hopped in their truck and drove off. They had not come back by the time Barb got home, so we went to get something to eat. When we got back I was pretty sure I had seen the last of tweedle dee and tweedle dumber. I'm just glad that I didn't pay them up front, Especially not $27,000.

But I still needed to do something about the limbs in the street, since they stuck out about 2/3 of the width of the street. I called a friend from church who had told me back in the summer he would be happy to cut up fallen limbs for the pecan wood to use in his BBQ, but only reached his answering machine.

Meanwhile another passer-by stopped looking for quick cash (there were a number of them before the afternoon was over). He quoted me a reasonable price, but couldn't start until Monday morning. I told him I was worried about leaving the trees in the street overnight, for fear some idiot neighbor would run into them. He told me to go to Home Depot and get some orange traffic cones and put them out and that would take care of things until he got back in the morning.

So off I went to Home Despot (which was out of gas-powered chainsaws, by the way; mine were not the only trees downed Saturday night) and when I returned with the cones, there was my church friend and his next-door neighbor trimming the branches sticking into the street. Sweet.

We were still powerless, it was getting dark, it was getting stuffy in the house and the phones needed charging, so we stuffed a couple of bags of ice in the freezer compartments, jammed everything that was perishable in with the ice and headed up the street for a motel room with A/C, electricity, lights to see to shower by, and coffee!

When we got back to the house Monday morning, the power was back on, the reasonably priced tree guy was hard at work and there were no power lines in the back yard. What we did find, however, deserves a blog post of its own.

Next: Tornado or straight line winds? Who cares.

Monday Meanderings - 5.25.2015

I'm currently playing chicken with the squirrels. How long can I let that very nicely-developing tomato, the first of the season, stay on the vine? In the past, the varmints have shown an uncanny knack for dining on the tomatoes exactly one day before my target date. Of course, one can pick them green and let them ripen on the window sill. Or, you can run the risk of  "Just one more..... Rats!"

Finished up formal therapy on my shoulder last Friday. The staff referred to it as "graduation." I was awarded a tee shirt (promoting the therapy center) and everybody applauded as I walked out the door. They seemed happy to see me go. Maybe too happy.

And, in case you missed it on the Internet -

The Official state...

Among less important considerations, such as Open Carry and Immigration and Kindergarten funding, the folks down at the Capitol building recently focused on adding honey bees and cowboy hats, as well as a few other things, as new Texas state symbols. The American-Statesman covered that and added a few suggestions for other more obvious things the Legislature should consider adding.

1. Official state food: Barbecue. We know the state dish is chili – no argument there – but we should definitely add barbecue as the state food, since no one else does barbecue like Texas.

2. Official state team sport: High school football. While the state’s official sport is the Rodeo, we think it should be expanded to include high school football. I mean, there was even a movie and a TV series about Friday Night Lights. It’s more than just a sport – it’s a culture.

3. Official state word: Y’all. Saw this one coming, didn't y’all?

4. Official state grocery store: H-E-B. If you are a dedicated foodie, or just looking for Whataburger brand spicy ketchup, this is the place. Which brings me to #5:

5. Official state hamburger: Whataburger.  It doesn’t matter that USA Today snubbed Whataburger in its ‘Ultimate Fast Food’ bracket, there are 36,864 reasons why this should be the official state hamburger. Don't even think about voting for that California chain.

6. Official state hairdo: Texas-style big hair. Think Ann Richards.  In fact, Ann once proclaimed an official Big Hair Day in 1993.

7. Official state Autobahn: Stretch of toll road between Austin and San Antonio. The 41-mile stretch of roadway boasts the country’s highest speed limit at 85 mph. Texans do seem to be in a hurry to get places, since the state also holds the nation’s average top speed limits at 78.3 mph, according to a report from cars.com.

8. Official state ice cream: Blue Bell. I don't care that Blue Bell is currently experiencing a rough time right now; they will bounce back. They still have my vote for official state ice cream. It's like that meme going around on social media right now:

"Let me break this down for the Northerners who can't understand the tragedy of recent events. The Blue Bell recall doesn't men we are down a brand of ice cream. We don't BUY other brands of ice cream. The Blue Bell recall means WE ARE OUT OF ICE CREAM!"

How about it? What other symbols would you add to the list of "The Official state..."?

Monday Meanderings - 5.18.2015

I first blogged about Austin's "Running Man" back in 2011. In fact, for a long time and for some unknown reason, that particular post garnered more page views than any other post on this site. I'm happy to report that he's still around, keeping Austin Weird. Except he's more like the hopping man than the running man these days.

He has permanently moved catty-cornered (where did that phrase originate?) from the HEB location to a corner by a Sonic drive-in. There's no grassy strip to run up and down on, so he he just sort of hops up and down now, holding a fake microphone while he sings and raps. Or imitates those who do.

We were dining at Pappadoux's the other day, enjoying a nice fresh fish dinner in a rather upscale restaurant (well, upscale from our standpoint) when I noticed one of the waitstaff gathering up some dishes and perched on the top of the stack was a take-out sack - from In-N-Out.

We were reminded that our first son, as a youngster, never cared for Taco Bell (another of our upscale choices) and insisted that we frequent the Taco Bell location that was next door to a Whataburger. He would go get his hamburger and we would order our tacos. BTW, his tastes changed when he got to college and Taco Bell offered the cheapest meal in town.

Things are grim and getting grimmer for Blue Bell. Word is that folks are posting Craigslist ads offering 1/2 pints of genuine Blue Bell ice cream for as much as $2,000! There are polls on social media asking people if they would continue to buy the product after the recall news. My response is that when the product hits the shelves again it will be the most-inspected, safest product on the market.

Nineteen days until the Women's World Cup in Canada. A soccer junkie's dream.

And  I leave you with a photo appropriately captioned: "Meals on Wheels."

An anniversary and a milestone

Today's post marks the 8th anniversary of this blog. May 14, 2007.  And coincidentally, this is also my 1,000th post.

I never set out to write 1,000 blog posts. I got the idea of being a blogger from my kids, who both blogged actively at the time. It was something that I thought might keep me occupied upon the occasion of my retirement, and I set some guidelines from the very beginning:

1. This blog is solely for my enjoyment. If anyone else finds it amusing or interesting that is serendipitous.
2. This blog is an opportunity to share some of my more interesting life events with my grandchildren.
3. If this blog doesn't occasionally embarrass my kids, I am not trying hard enough.

Of the 1,000 posts, more than 300 have been Monday Meanderings and some 60 have been directed toward my grandchildren. The rest are a hodge-podge of whatever amused me at the moment. Google says that over the years, some 45,000 people have taken a peek at what I have written. The majority of views were from people in the USA, of course, but there also have been page views from Germany, France, Russia (more than 1,400!) the UK, China, Ukraine, Canada, Poland, Australia and 21 other countries.

The most-viewed post by far is "Traveling in Comfort" March 16, 2012 with 5,135 views (though I have reason to believe there may have been some funny business going on there - it was viewed more than 400 times in a single day from the same person. It wasn't that good, believe me). The 2nd most-viewed post (more than 1,500) is "The Mystery Album" on November 24, 2010, followed by 726 views of "Never Underestimate the Power of a Sweet Potato Pie" December 14, 2012. Hmmm. Looks like I peaked in 2012. My favorite post? Hands down "Deep Thoughts while watching a soccer game. Really" on 7/13/2011 (and again on 8/8/2012). Most fun to write? The "Bob the Dog" series.

Most non-commercial bloggers wear out. If you have followed favorite bloggers for any length of time you have seen many dwindle to nothingness. Sometimes a blogger will just hang it up and say, "That's it. I'm done." When I saw the 1,000th post coming up, I gave some thought to doing the same. And I may, in the not-too distant future, do just that. But for now, though I post much less frequently than I did, I'm still enjoying it, and occasionally I find something new to pass along.

So if you weren't around on day 1, here's how I started it all.

Last August, Neill, the guy who takes care of our 401K and 403B and WD40 and I don’t know what all else, said, “You can retire in March, 2007.” Excuse me while I kiss this guy! Barbara was already receiving more income in retirement than she was when teaching school, and my Social Security benefits would begin in March, and suddenly all those years of payroll deductions had accumulated to the magic number and we left Neill’s office pretty giddy.

 

In January, I told my boss that I was retiring. He asked if I was interested in doing contract work, and I said that I was, but on a significantly reduced schedule – like half time. I had already decided that I wasn’t ready to come home and wonder what I was going to do for the rest of my life, and since I didn’t have a lake cabin to occupy my time, nor do I golf or fish, I thought I could ease into this venture by working part time. 

The need for what I do professionally is entering the twilight years as well; we’ll go out of style together. I figure that there’s a need for my skills about another nine to twelve months, at least from the standpoint of my present semi-employer. Of course, I said I was going to be out of the computer business before the year 2000. I’ve been wrong before.

Of course, the real reason for wanting to work part-time is that I’m not sure Barbara and I can stand that much togetherness. You know, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. I know of early un-retirements under those circumstances. Homicide is not unheard of. She has her office in one end of the house and I have mine in the other, and she has long suggested that a sound proof room where she could go off and shut the door would be a good idea. Remember, this is the woman who used to call my boss and say, “Can’t you send Bob somewhere? I really need some time alone.” 

Well, her schedule at Austin Grad had her away from the house all day on Mondays, and she volunteered at her old school Friday mornings, so I arranged to work Tuesday through Thursday and it was almost like the before retirement schedule. We meet up Friday noon to do our shopping, have Saturday to do whatever, Church all Day Sunday and singing on the ground, and then… then gloriously, for me Monday is a free day. Better than free, it’s a sit on the patio, drink coffee and watch the tomatoes grow day. You can do that in Austin for another week or two this time of year.

 

People ask what I do with all my time now that I’m retired. My standard answer is “First, there’s coffee on the patio and then there’s Oprah, and Ellen and Dr. Phil and those three women – and oh, there’s Jerry Springer!” The truth is I have never seen any one of those programs. What I really do (so far) is fodder for later blogs. Then there’s work. When my boss agreed to the 3-day work week, he didn’t mention that he still expected me to work 40 hours a week. The company is trying to meet a significant deadline, so I’m logging extra hours – and getting paid a righteous sum to do so.

A friend kept telling me that I should become a contractor. Now that I are one and am making twice as much money as I was as an employee and working half as many hours (in theory, at least), I wonder why I didn’t do this twenty years ago! Of course, there are the little things like taxes to be paid, and both portions of my Social Security deductions (I sometimes wonder if my deductions and benefits wave to each other as they pass in the night) and insurance payments (now there’s a blog subject for sure). But I’m having fun being semi-retired in Austin.

Monday Meanderings - 5.11.2015

We could see the handwriting on the wall, along with the graffiti. Fran's is no more. We stopped patronizing the place several weeks ago and the other day I noticed in passing that the signs were removed and the windows covered. We first wandered into Fran's in June of 2007, inspired by seeing the South Austin location (which closed a couple of years ago) featured on "Friday Night Lights." Well, there's still Dan's, the cafes started by Fran's ex husband.

The clasp on my watch broke the other day, so, as is my custom, I turned to Google to see what could be found for repair or replacement. When I located the watch and band, like so many things in my life now, they were listed as "Vintage" or "Discontinued." And no, being "Vintage" did not make my watch valuable, just hard to repair.

There's a grocery that caters to people from India (or people who like Indian food) next door to the place where I go for therapy on my shoulder. The other day, I'm standing there, staring out the window while I do endless reps of some painful exercise, when I notice a man get out of a car with a huge, green Macaw on his shoulder and go into the grocery. After a period, the pair emerged - the Macaw still on his shoulder and the man with a bag of groceries. I don't know if the man was shopping for himself or for the bird.

Received notification from Seton Medical that Barb's personal and medical information was among the 39,000 records recently stolen from that institution. The letter was very apologetic, guaranteed that it would not happen again, and included the phone numbers for the big 3 credit bureaus. Oh, and they also said in essence: "Good luck. You are on your own if anything bad comes from our carelessness."

Plans are afoot to honor the late Leslie Cochran. The life-size figure will be sculpted sitting on a bus-stop bench and placed at the corner of 6th and Congress, Leslie's locale the later part of his life as the bearded, bikini and tiara-wearing Ambassador of Austin Weirdness. I love this town.

Best sign on a pickup window this week: "United States Infantry - hooking up martyrs & virgins"

Best Facebook post this week: "Stop shaming people on the internet for grammar mistakes. It's not there fault."

Monday Meanderings - 5.4.15

I stopped at one of those automated car washes the other day. I'm a firm believer of washing my car as often as annually, and it was time.

As it turned out, there was an attendant at this wash, as is sometimes the case, and he signaled me to stop short of the payment kiosk so he could "spot wash" some of the more troublesome spots, like the wheels and tires, and the odd bug splatter. This meant I needed to dig out a couple of bucks to tip the guy, so I took out my wallet.

First he gave the car an overall rinse, then he started in on the wheels and spots, then he switched to a long-handled brush and started going over the side and hood panels. At this point, I added another dollar bill to the tip.

Then he rinsed again and resumed washing other areas and the windshield, mirrors and rear window. Another buck. More rinsing, and then concentrated attention to the really baked on bug spatters. By this time he had spent more time on the car than it would get in the wash bay, and I was up to $5 in tip money and running out of small bills. Thankfully he sent me on through before I had to run over to the Taco stand next door and get change for a $20! But the car sure looks nice.

Drove by a flea market being conducted in an empty lot where a number of hand tools and small power tools were being offered for sale. I commented, "Want to buy some tools?"  Maybe it was the neighborhood, or the fact that these tools were by and large being sold out of the backs of pickup trucks and car trunks that caused Barb to respond, "Do you want to buy some of your tools?"

We went through our Spring Ritual - moving the plants back outdoors and hooking up the drip irrigation hoses. Then, of course, we went to Home Despot and bought the obligatory sacrificial  tomato plants- the fruit of which we annually offer up to the birds and squirrels and things that go bump in the night.

Best Chinese fortune cookie message ever: "Ignore the previous cookie."

Testing new eating places for breakfast. Fran's, long our favorite hole-in-the-wall cafe, continues to disappoint in numerous ways.  There's an eatery over on North Lamar named Ross' Old Austin Cafe and we've been there a few times. What we've tried thus far has been satisfying, but it is hard to mess up breakfast tacos. Best of all, service is prompt and spot on.

One of the things that interests me about Ross' is the "community table." Folks who evidently eat there often and know each other sit down at a large double table. It does not appear to be the same people every day - just folks who come often and want to chat with others who come often. It occurs to me that that's what we all want at every level. A place where we can be in community and fellowship. Cheers for the breakfast crowd. Works for me.