The Chuy's Culinary Tour

 
Since I have become a major stockholder and part owner of Chuy's restaurants (you didn't think I could pass up that opportunity, did you?), I am wondering if the time has come to visit each and every one of my locations. You know what they say: "If you have seen one Chuy's, you have seen one Chuy's."
 
So I have done some digging and it looks like I'm going to have to get busy. At this point in time, early October, 2012, there are 38 Chuy's Restaurants in 8 states:

Texas has 24 locations - Austin (5), Houston area (7) Dallas-Ft Worth (6) San Antonio (2), College Station, Lubbock, Waco and Tyler one each.Tennessee has 5, Kentucky/Indiana has 4 (soon to have 5), Oklahoma has 2, and Alabama, Georgia, and Florida each have one each.

 
Obviously, the place to start is right here at home, and I'm ashamed to admit that there are 2 local Chuy's that I have not been to - the one out on IH-35 toward Round Rock and the one on William Cannon, way south. Before, it just didn't make sense to pass a Chuy's only 2 miles from the house to visit one 18 miles away, but now I think it's important that I check on my investment, don't you? Shoot, they are probably expecting me, don't you think?
 
I've been working on the route, and it's harder than it looks. I may have to get AAA to work out one of those route maps - it's a lot of driving to cover all 38 cities. Maybe I need to get an RV and then the little woman and I can hit the road and start chowing down on Creamy Jalapeno dip and Chuychangas (with queso) nationwide. We could just stay out there until the job is done. Come to think of it, if they we keep opening up new locations fast enough, we might be on the road a long, long time. "Day 12. Probably ought to call the kids."
 
By the way, the market has been kind of up and down lately, so my 2 shares have earned enough for... well, uh... okay, you get free queso during happy hour. I'm in! Who's coming with us?
 

Monday Meanderings - 10.8.2012

 
Sorry to bring it up, but this display has been up for a while now. Saw it last week but had to wait until I got a less-fuzzy picture.
 
Last week this blog passed 20,000 page views. That sort of astounds me that my 3 followers can click on that many pages. Thanks for your perseverance.
 
Bumper sticker: "Back off. I'm not that kind of car."
 
I will agree that it is convenient to have certain recurring charges billed directly to a credit card. No fuss, no muss, get the airline miles and write one check. However, when the card expires, you spend an afternoon getting everything updated. First you have to get the card activated, then you have to figure out who all bills directly, then you have to figure out how to access accounts that you have not logged on to in years (what do you mean that's an invalid password?). AMEX cut it very close this time around; we were getting some concerned emails from a long list of folks.
 
Rangers, Longhorns, Cowboys. Sigh.
 
A lady in Walmart said that she liked my beard. I said "Thanks. I like yours, too!" Some women just don't handle compliments well.
 
When the Bible class topic is announced as "Sexuality, Lust and Pornography," you might not want the teacher to begin with, "Let's start with an ice breaker."
 

Kiamichi Mountains - stories for my grandchildren

In the southeastern corner of Oklahoma, there is a rustic, rural area known as the Kiamichi Mountains. The term mountain is generous; the highest peaks fail to reach the 1,000 foot mark that geologists use to designate a "real" mountain, so it really is a wilderness area, part federal lands and part logging industry acreage.

Near Honobia, Oklahoma, some forty acres is carved out of this wilderness by the Kiamichi Mission, and is home to numerous camps and retreats affiliated with the Christian Church. For many years, a Men's Retreat has been held in May, and hundreds of men have gathered annually, arriving in RVs and campers and pickups, setting up camp for several days of preaching, singing and fellowship. And when I say men's retreat, I mean exactly that; no women allowed. Except I guess they aren't that fond of cabrito in Oklahoma, so a group of ladies came every day to cook but left promptly after the dishes were done.

I ended up at the Kiamichi Men's Retreat because I worked for Sweet Publishing during the '70s and select vendors were allowed to exhibit their offerings in a tent set aside for that purpose. Christian churches were in Sweet's marketing demographic, so most years Ralph Sweet and one or two others made the pilgrimage to the wilds of Oklahoma to sell books (our table was right next to the John Birch Society table). One year, Ralph filled up the company RV with as many male employees as could fit, and that's how I ended up at "Christ's Forty Acres."

As I recall, there was preaching and singing in the morning and afternoon, but the main event was the evening service. There was a huge covered area, a glorified pole barn, where the services were conducted, filled with rough wooden pews and a stage at one end with a honkin' PA system, a pulpit and a piano. I didn't know any of the speakers (not my tribe), but these guys knew how to work a crowd. I can still quote a couple of things I heard, more than 40 years later.

"Don't worry about the roof! Let those who are left behind [after the Rapture] fix the roof!"

and,

"I want you to be so filled with the Spirit that if a mosquito bites you, it will go away singing, 'There's power in the blood.'"

And then there was the collection. Kiamichi Mission was founded to help support a number of small churches scattered throughout that area of Oklahoma and Arkansas; all mission-level congregations in poor rural areas, and a large part of the annual budget was gathered on the last night of the retreat.

A number of speakers shared in the exhortation, but the appeal was consistent: "I need ten men to stand right now and give $2,000 each. All right, I have five men! There's eight. Hallelujah, ten men are standing! Now I need twenty men to stand and give $1,000 each!" Next, forty men were asked for $500 each, eighty men... you get the picture. By the time it was over, everybody was standing, with the exception of a few of us sinners who slipped out before it got to our price level.

By the way, one of the guys in charge told us that there were some interesting logistics in getting the proceeds of the collection to the bank (it was largely a cash collection, a significant sum, and we were out in the boonies) He said four county sheriff's cars would trail four civilian vehicles out of the compound; four cars would turn North and four turn South, and at the first opportunity each pair would split off yet again, taking different routes to town. Who had the cash? According to our friend, it might be one, none, or split between all of them. They did it differently every year.

And one more memory. It was at the Kiamichi Men's Retreat that I heard, but did not see, a plane crash. A short distance from the camp area was a small, unpaved airstrip that some of the early standers used to come and go. We were lounging at the RV one afternoon when we heard a small plane rev its engine for take off. The volume and the RPMs increased, then we heard a couple of sharp cracks and sudden silence! The plane failed to clear the pine trees at the end of the runway. After a lot of excitement, we learned that there were no serious injuries, and later we saw the now-wingless plane being hauled off on a flat bed truck.

Adventures on Public Transportation

 
A friend of ours is in Russia and mentioned on FaceBook that getting around Moscow was somewhat interesting. I don't have any experience with the Moscow public transportation system, but if it is anything like the one the Russians built in Prague during the Iron Curtain era, it is an efficient system. Or maybe it's the Czech mindset that makes it so outstanding.
 
Living in Texas all my life has not provided many rapid-transit public transportation experiences, though the first electric trolly I ever rode was in Dallas. Over the years, in addition to the usual planes, trains and automobiles, I've managed to get around in various places on city buses, trams, Dillos, the San Francisco cable cars, and the Port Aransas ferries.
 
I have experienced the Personal Rapid Transit in Morgantown, WV, I have shuttled between terminals on the Plane Train at Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson airport, and once, during a layover, I rode the DFW Skylink train around the airport for about two hours. I have ridden the Tube in London, the Metro de la Ciudad de México, the MTA, of "Charley and the MTA" fame in Boston, and the subway (also known as the MTA) in New York City, and have been a satisfied customer of Dopravný podnik Praha,the City Transport system in Prague.
 
In the late '70s, our family spent a few days in Mexico City on our way to visit friends in Guatemala. From our down-town hotel, we boldly hopped on the Metro to visit places like Chapultepec Park, Bellas Artes, and the Museum of Anthropology. The metro was clean, easily navigated, and cheap. However, there were only three lines at that time (there are now 12) and the trains were often really jam-packed. So much so, that at one popular stop, the crowd getting off proved to be overwhelming and swept Barb and I along with them. We were getting off, whether we wanted to or not. The problem was that our children, ages 12 and 10, were NOT in the group that was getting off! To our good fortune, others recognized the problem (probably because of our hysterical screaming) and literally picked them up and passed them hand-to-hand to join us! And thus was born the immutable metro rule, "If we get separated, get off at the next stop and wait."
 
When our daughter Julie and family were living in the Czech Republic we became quite familiar with the outstanding public transportation in Prague. The Metro was relatively new (it first opened in 1974, a "gift" of the Russian occupation) and was fast, clean and efficient. Between the Metro and the surface trams, trolleys and buses, getting around Prague was easy. Every bus or trolley route somewhere intersected with a Metro station, and once you were on the Metro, you could always find your way home - the Nové Butovice stop on the "B" line - a short walk from Julie and Jason's apartment. However:
 
One afternoon, after Barb and I had been downtown for some reason, our home-ward bound train pulled into the Smíchovské nádraží station, short of our destination, and everyone got off. Everyone. We sat there somewhat dumbfounded for a few moments until some official-looking person motioned that we, too, should get off. We did, and our empty train immediately departed down the tunnel toward our destination - without us! We looked around and virtually all our fellow passengers made for the exits, leaving us standing alone, three Metro stations from home and no idea how to get there.
 
We wandered around a bit, looking for an information booth or ticket office, but found none. We went up to the ground level and saw that there was a train station, but I was pretty sure that wouldn't get us home. I stuck my head in a couple of shops, inquiring for English speakers with no takers, so we went back down to the Metro level just in time to see another train pull in and leave empty. I'm getting a little panicky at this point and I'm just about to start yelling, "DOES ANYONE HERE SPEAK ENGLISH?" when I notice that people were getting ON the train that had just pulled in! We ran over some poor babushka in our rush to get on, and gratefully rode to our destination.
 
No one told us that the efficient Czechs daily reduce the number of trains to the far reaches of the system after rush-hour. Every other train is taken out of service, lightening the load on the system. We had gone up the stairs before we saw that the intervening trains continued on, with passengers. Later, we noticed that there was signage - in English, even - to that effect. Somehow, in my panic-stricken state, I had missed that.
 
Public transportation in Prague is on the honor system; no conductor or ticket-taker greets you at the door or at a turnstile. However, there are plain-clothes inspectors roaming the system, performing spot checks. If you are found without a ticket or a pass, there is an on-the-spot fine (it was Kč200 at that time). The inspectors try - unsuccessfully to the Czechs - to be discreet and not stand out. They approach you and casually show you a little badge cupped in their hands without much ado. That's the signal to show them your ticket.
 
One such official approached Jana, our daughter-in-law, in this fashion, and never having been told about the inspectors, Jana thought the man was trying to sell her something. She rightly ignored him and kept walking, causing him to escalate his demand to see her ticket. Having experienced pushy street merchants before, Jana kept right on refusing to have any part of whatever the man wanted, and the inspector was pretty sure at this point he was going to collect a fine until Jason, our son-in-law, realized what was going on and intervened. She did have a valid ticket, by the way.
 
Evey visitor to Prague can recall the sing-song recorded announcement that was broadcast at every closing of the Metro train doors: "Ukončete prosím výstup a nástup, dveře se zavírají." (Please finish exiting and boarding the train, the doors are closing). I remember waking up in the middle of the night, weeks later, back in the States, with that verse running through my mind.
 

Monday Meanderings - 10.01.2012

Thankfully, the "real" NFL referees are back on the job, so this is just a parting shot, but it is somewhat disturbing to know that Wayne Elliot, the Referee for last Monday Night Football's debacle, is an Austin Realtor and on the Friday previous, he was refereeing the Anderson High School game and this Saturday night called the Lake Travis game. Says he has no comment about his side job as a replacement official.
 
Saw a news item the other night that said research shows that married couples who share chores equally are more likely to end in divorce. That seems puzzling, but I told Barb that for the good of the marriage I was willing to forgo my share. As usual.
 
I have mentioned this before, but my sense of smell is wonky; it is not unusual to suddenly be overwhelmed by a smell that is simply not present. In other words, my nose is making it all up. More understandable is that a real, strong odor will get stuck and stay with me long after I have changed locales. Sometimes that's a good thing. Stopped by Rudy's BBQ at noon the other day and I enjoyed the tang of wood smoke and seasoned brisket well into the evening!
 
Watched WVU make a statement about their debut in the Big 12 Conference on Saturday (70 - 63 over Baylor). Geno Smith, the WVU QB, had more touchdown passes (8) than he had incompletions. I do wonder though, how they will fare against a good defensive team. Unfortunately, we are not apt to find that out this weekend when they come to play Texas. Smith looks very good at this point for the Heisman, which would be two years in a row for the Big 12.
 
It used to be a problem that the TV remote was always on the side of the room where I was not. It was just one of those immutable laws. Solved that problem when the cable guy left us a 2nd remote - one on the couch and one by the recliner. Sweet! Only now the iPad and the phone are always where I'm not. Does the Apple guy make house calls?
 
One seldom-mentioned aspect of using a CPAP machine, which provides a steady stream of air through your sleeping mask, is that if the electricity goes off in the middle of the night - at oh, say 3am - one is immediately and abruptly wakened. While there is no actual danger of suffocating, for a moment or two it sure seems likely. And if the electricity comes back on briefly, then goes off again and on and off several times in succession, this seems to upset the alarm system, but since you are already sitting bolt upright in the bed sucking for air, the added excitement of the blaring alarm is just an extra jolt of adrenaline. It must be noted that I did not doze off in church yesterday, but I can't tell you what football games were on TV Sunday afternoon.