MMs - 6.10.2019 - More Stuff

Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. More Stuff on the way to Half Price Books. This is the 2nd batch in as many weeks and is further evidence of our commitment to de-Stuffing our house. These bags are full of video tapes, CDs and DVDs of old movies, shows and programs that haven't seen the inside of a VHF/CD/DVD player in many moons. Time for them to go.

Oh, and cook books. Not the classic Betty Crocker cookbook that was a wedding gift, or the cookbooks published by the Walker Street church ladies, or the Wilbarger Street church ladies or the Godley church ladies. Rather, cookbooks like "Fifteen Fabulous Recipes for Crock Pot Delights." Maybe we should include our crock pot, too. I'm sure it's in a cabinet somewhere. But cabinets are not on the schedule. Yet.

Social Media has widely promoted the Marie Kondo series, where one examines each item in question and decides if it brings the owner joy. If not, you bid it adieu and a happy life at Goodwill. I decided to try that method. So far, I have failed to find joy in all the vegetables in the fridge, the electric bill and an old tennis shoe.

Actually, there is some merit to the "find joy" method. There are some things that we did not put in the bags. Things that will probably still be on the shelf when the kids clean the house out.

Like my Little Golden Book of "The Pokey Little Puppy." And maybe the video of Lamb Chop, the hand puppet. Lamb Chop saved our bacon in Prague one night - baby-sitting a very young, very distraught Jericho who simply would not be appeased...until we played the Lamb Chop video. And maybe the....

But if I find the other tennis shoe it's absolutely out of here.

MMs - 6.3.2019 - Stuff

So Neale, our financial advisor and part-time Walmart greeter,  has been gently but firmly moving the conversation toward stuff. Specifically our stuff, and what to do with it.

Now my take on the accumulated flotsam and jetsam that fills our closets and shelves and drawers and cabinets and attic and garage and auto glove boxes is that eventually it becomes someone else's problem. I figure it's my role to hoard it and my kids role to dispose of it.

Neale, bless his heart, is doing his best to persuade us that's not the best course.  His take is that there's not going to be much room at the Casa Pequeno Home for Assisted Living, so we ought to give some thought to winnowing the detritus. He assures us, often, "Your kids don't want your stuff!"

He's persistent, I'll give him that. So Barb and I are taking a long look at the stuff that we have accumulated in our 57 years (Saturday, thank you very much) together. Our own collection is bad enough, but when you add in all the things that we have inherited/acquired from our own parents, we have a museum here.

I have, on a shelf above me, among other things, a non-working crystal radio that my father built as a boy, three glass insulators that were acquired during his 45 years as a telephone lineman, a clay piggy bank that my mother painted, a crystal paper weight globe from our son-in-law, a porcelain figure of a graduate in cap and gown that Burnell Knight made for me upon my graduation from high school, a class ring from that self-same high school - dated 1959 - and 9 VHS video tapes that are unlabeled so I have no idea what's on them - but I have an old VHS player on the shelf in the closet so I could check them out. Or not.

On a nearby shelf  is a (large) glass egg that a teacher gave my father when he was a boy,  a complete set of silverware that belonged to Grandmother Anderson, 7 large binders of genealogy records that my mother painstakingly assembled (contents transferred to digital media long ago), 6 archival boxes of genealogical papers, certificates and historical brick-abrac, assorted books on the history of Johnson County, and.... You get the picture. Oh yeah, there's a couple of bankers boxes of those. Pictures, that is. I just hope Rob doesn't return the grocery sack of 35mm slides he carried off. Did I mention the dozen photo albums? Or the framed photos on the walls and scattered on most flat surfaces throughout the house?

And then there's the books.

We have, at this moment in time, 34 linear feet of books taking up space on shelves throughout the house. And those are the "keepers." At any given time there is a stack of books on the way back to the library or to Half-Price books. Those don't count. We have books on gardening, travel, home repair, medical help and diet. I have nearly 3 linear feet of reference books, such as biographical dictionaries, geographical dictionaries, and foreign language dictionaries.  We have yards of fiction books "because we like that writer."

We have Junior High, High School and College Yearbooks (in duplicates). We have books on becoming a US Citizen (in multiple languages), a dozen antique to contemporary hymn and song books. And then there are the commentaries, Bibles and Bible study books. Any one need a complete set of commentaries by Adam Clark? He wrote them in the late 1800's; they are so old they don't even have a copyright or publication date in them.  How about 14 linear feet of binders containing transcripts of every sermon on Romans that John Allen Chalk preached at Highland in Abilene in the 60's, as well as notes from BSF, and classes attended at Austin Grad?

And I can't even begin to get my head around all the odd stuff piled on the shelves and in the closet in my "office." Need the installation diskettes for Windows 95? How about 3 surplus keyboards? Three monitors? Two obsolete computers?

And did I mention the garage?


I wonder if Neale has any room at his house?

MMs - 5.20.2019 - Our friend. Miranda

If you follow this blog, you know that Barb and I are big fans of Women's Athletics at the University of Texas, and have been for many years. We had season tickets for Lady Longhorns basketball for about 20 years. In our dotage, we treasure the Longhorn Network, which lets us watch all the Basketball, Volleyball, and Softball home games - and we have become adept at finding TV broadcasts on obscure streaming video channels. We're fans.

The Softball team has a new coach this year; an experienced and proven leader, who came from Oregon and brought four of his superstars with him from that program. Together, they really transformed the Texas team and it's been a fun season. One of his transfer players is All-American pitcher Miranda Elish who can hit almost as well as she can pitch. We're fans.

So a couple of weeks ago during church, we had a "meet and greet" for those around us, and when I turned around, Miranda and her 6'-6" boyfriend were in the pew behind us! We introduced ourselves, and when she said, "I'm Miranda," we both said, "Yes. We know who you are. We're fans!" Interestingly, she seemed surprised that we knew who she was.

The Softball team, in spite of being in the top 10 most of the season, got into a bit of a slump toeard the end of regular play and the Big XII Tournament (as in "2 and BBQue"). so they were very excited when named to host a regional. But the slump continued, and Texas lost the opener to a much lower-ranked opponent Friday night. So that meant 2 games on Saturday to earn the right to play the winner of the other bracket on Sunday. And Miranda pitched both of those games - about 320 pitches in all.

Texas won both of them, but now had to play two games on Sunday, so we were a bit surprised when Miranda and boyfriend Reese sought us out after services. We chatted about what an amazing 2 games she had, and asked if she was going to pitch Sunday, after two marathon games on Saturday - one with extra innings.. She said she was tired, but she really wanted to pitch the upcoming games!

So yesterday afternoon Barb and I watched the games in air-conditioned comfort while Miranda and the team played must-win games in "feels-like 100 degrees" temperatures. And Miranda pitched both of these games as well - 441 amazing pitches for the two days, with only 2 walks and an ERA you need a microscope to see! And hit a double and scored three runs as icing on the cake! So UT is going to a Super Regional. I won't be able to record books today because I yelled at the TV too much. We're excited fans!

But something funny happened yesterday afternoon. All of a sudden, the games became too important. That's our friend Miranda out there. Every hit against her became personal. Every pitch called a ball when we knew it was a strike upset us. It was distressing to hear her say in the post-game interview that she got a little delirious toward the end. It's sort of like when your child is playing sports in a very important game and you want them to do well, but there's a lot of pressure and you worry about them. I realize that we have only spoken to the young lady twice, but now it's different. We met her. We have something in common. She's a friend!

Who knew it was so hard to be friends and fans?

MMs - 5.13.2019 - "...I am NOT spontaneous!!"

spon·ta·ne·ous

/spänˈtānēəs/

adjective: performed or occurring as a result of a sudden inner impulse or inclination and without premeditation or external stimulus.

Our son and grandson were in Vancouver last week, exploring one of British Columbia's prettiest cities prior to boarding a cruise ship headed to Alaska. It's a Senior Graduation trip for our grandson (and a bucket list item for our son).

When Barb and I go on a trip, I have a notebook full of schedules, maps, time-tables, telephone numbers and emergency contacts. And duplicate documents reside on my iPad. And some of them also reside on a thumb drive that I carry on my key chain. The travel book, in all its forms, is the culmination of a well-developed, time-tested check list that currently has 54 items to tick off before we're ready to go. I am a nervous traveler, and I am NOT spontaneous.

But the title quote about spontaneity was not from me. It was from my son, and because he is my son this trip was just as carefully scripted. I didn't see his check list, but I did see his folder. This trip was carefully scripted, with all the stops, sights and attractions carefully arranged and in good order. 

I'm proud of him.

So it was a little surprising to receive a message with a photo of a soccer game getting underway between the Vancouver Whitecaps and the Portland Timbers. Obviously they were at the game - and I knew it was not on the itinerary.  The accompanying text said, "This is what happens when you vacation with a son who says, as you walk past the stadium, "Hey look, they're playing. You want to go?" And it was followed by another text that said, "You guys need to know I am NOT spontaneous!!"

I'm not exactly sure why, but this brought to mind a moment of spontaneity... on the part of  my father. I would not describe my father as a spontaneous person, though I recognize from my own behavior that age has a great deal to with spontaneity, so I may not know the whole story. Nevertheless. One evening in 1955 or 1956, my father, mother and I were returning to Breckenridge from a week-end visit with my aunt in Fort Worth. It was probably a Sunday evening, and as we approached the outskirts of Mineral Wells at dusk, my father saw that the movie "Oklahoma" was showing at a drive-in theater. He pulled in, paid the attendant, and we watched Curly woo Laurey away from Jud (poor Jud) with song and dance!

I thought my mother was going to get out and start walking home.

The conversation was brief, but intense, and I suspect there was a paucity of conversation for the next week or so, but my father - who was not much of a movie-goer - wanted to see Oklahoma, and it was showing at a drive-in near us, and it was the right time of the evening, so we stopped to watch it.

And so it was that my son and his son were passing a stadium, and secretly they always wanted to watch a professional soccer game, and it was the right time of the evening, so they turned in, paid the attendant and watched it. And nobody threatened to walk home.

I'm proud of them.

MMs - 5.6.2019 - Port A - after the storm

Just off the ferry, Port Aransas looks deceptively normal; the Souvenir shops are lined up as usual - though with fresh paint. There’s a new hotel right by the ferry landing, and here and there signs of construction and remodeling, but all-in-all, surprisingly normal. It has, after all, been almost 2 years  since Harvey devastated the island. Our first response was “Everything is back except the Sand Castle,” our condo of choice for the past many years.

Then you begin to notice the RVs and trailers parked on almost every previously open space. And that many of the businesses you pass are not actually open. And there are chain link fences blocking access to a lot of beach front properties. There are gaps here and there where houses and businesses have been bull-dozed and the debris hauled away. No Castaways restaurant on that corner. An A-Frame house peeled to the structural timbers on this block,

Barb has been calling the Sand Castle on a regular basis, checking on progress. Each call results in longer and longer estimates of guest readiness. Then we began hearing that the Sand Castle might not ever recover. She's called a few other places, but they were too expensive, or too far from the beach. Finally she found a place worth trying. Plus, she was getting very beach needy.

We’re staying at the Beach Gate condos - a little less than a mile further down the beach from the Sand Castle. The room is nice; spacious, all new appliances, furniture and decor (of course), comfortable chairs and 3 couches to nap on. Normal sized widows don’t allow the best ocean viewing, but there’s a spacious balcony. You can hear every step the upstairs neighbors make (and I’m sure the downstairs folks hear us as well). Biggest drawback; the elevator is in the adjacent building and there’s a long, circuitous path to get here from there. It’s that or very steep stairs. We don’t do stairs well. Or stairwells.


Port A is desperate for business. We were warmly welcomed at Beach Gate. The manager fetched a dolly and stacked our bags and boxes of beach-needs on it, then led us on the roundabout route to our room. He carried in our baggage, demonstrated our fancy key-less door lock and assured us that he was on premises 24 hours a day.  Call him if we needed anything. We give it a "we can stay here" - if the right rooms are available.

We mentioned the rumors that the Sand Castle wasn’t coming back. He said there was an owners meeting last week, and they were told it would be 2 more years before repairs could be completed. He said all those owners were still on the hook for mortgages, dues and insurance in the meantime, with no revenue stream and hopelessly bogged in an insurance and relief claims quagmire. He seemed to doubt its viability. We drove by to take a look, and while scaffolding no longer surrounds the building, there are no visible signs of any work going on.

With the exception of the now-demolished Castaways, all of our favorite eating places are open and eager for business. We ate at Fins Wednesday night, with the waitstaff very solicitous of our comfort. “It’s pretty cool in here. Are you all sure this is okay?” And there  was no visible indication that the storm parked a big boat or 2 in the dining area of Virginia’s on the Bay. And the slaw and beans sides are still served in tiny 1oz cups. Business as usual.

The Coast Guard station that was adjacent to Virginia’s is being demolished. As we were leaving, we heard a big bang and looked up to see the metal infrastructure toppling to the ground. Went by the UT Marine Biology facility that was severely damaged and saw only work vehicles. Glass installers for the most part.

Trout Street had a big "NOW OPEN" sign. Our waiter said they could have opened earlier, but there wasn't enough tourist traffic to warrant it. Everyone is really hoping that this summer will be the turning point, tourist wise.

Most satisfying, though was to discover that my favorite eclectic coffee and gelato shop was still in business. And they were just as happy to see us. That’s where I snapped the picture of the quote above.