News from Hico

RIP to my nephew

2012-01-29T18:19:00.001-07:00

Bad news in our family today.

One of my nephews died early yesterday morning in an accident, apparently after going to sleep at the wheel. The feeling for me is shock, gradually turning into a more predominant depression.

Tom -- a relative I only saw at the big family events -- was a good kid, an academic type of whom I recall being jealous because he basically started college as a junior. I think I last heard he was headed to law school and, I thought, yeah, no problem for him. He always put on a cheerful face. Always. I think I recall some moment of surliness when he was a teen. And that was it.

He was driving to the farm in Hico the night of his accident to meet up with his parents, they probably had some project in mind to clean up or improve something out there, like they always do. Hard. Impossible to know what they are going through now.

New Year Blewjowski, Part II: Sports

2012-01-24T18:37:00.001-07:00

I figure I'll be done with these postings around 2014.

This post started out as a rant in my head, about a month ago, but I've stepped away from the toxins and have felt positive since.

I am no longer a fan of sports. Any sport. You can't make me care enough to invest the kind of passion and dedication necessary to be a fan of a watching half-naked men running around doing anything.

I lost my fanity by going to various Texas Tech fan sites during the football season, and was eventually overwhelmed by the combination of negativity, ignorance and gloating pessimism. I told myself to stay away from the comments, but somehow couldn't. "Surely, there will be a voice of reason and perspective. Someone will say that there are generally good people working here with good intentions."

And I'd read a 2,000-word rant saying that Tommy Tubberville is the devil and Kent Hance is Saddam Hussein and they all need to die. And he'd laugh at the funeral and make a pass at the widows.

Sucked the good right out of the season. The games sucked. The fans sucked. The future seemed to suck.*

And I had my epiphany: The hype machine is destroying sports, putting it on the same level of religion. Yes, religion -- have you seen some of the NFL promotions lately? The slow motion, fuzzy shots of people overreacting to a play. Treating people who dress up like fools as anything other than fools. From the promotions, it's hard to tell if Madden Football is a video game or a really special youth outreach project.

And then the self-seriousness of so many fans, preaching the gospel of why I really, really should hate Oregon.

My advice to self: Don't confuse the fun and fascinating with the morally vital. It's a game. It's always a game.

I have since tuned out the fan sites. I read about Tech in the newspaper, follow a bit of ESPN, which is a lot of fun to monitor since I stopped calling them the evil empire. And I can say without much doubt I get a lot more enjoyment out of my teams than most of you.

*Which makes me wonder why the entire state of Oklahoma hasn't lobotomized itself.

Angry end of year blejowski, part I

2011-12-30T22:09:00.001-07:00

In note/screed form...

And where to begin. I watched an episode of Grimm a couple of hours ago, and while noting the quality of acting, special effects and the writing (all bad), I couldn't help but be intrigued enough to come back to the show, at least one it pops up on another format that allows me to watch it whenever I damn well please.

And I had to wonder why I'd want to watch it again. This led to the following conversation with my wife:

Me: In all of Sam's books and videos, do any of them have a story that you actually like?

Wife: (Sighs) If you want to start reading him The Hobbit, I'm fine with that.

Me: What about the old nursery rhymes? I grew up on those and it seems like we haven't even read anything.

Wife: We have a book, we just haven't read it to him once he learned to talk.

It just struck me. Sam's books are all about life lessons and perfectly nice kids and quirkily drawn animals overcoming obstacles in perfectly teachable and politically correct ways. The few TV shows that he watches contain earnest characters all learning to cooperate or help the earth or animals and will eventually break out into a dismal hip-hop number. Where are the stories? I remember the tales and stories I heard growing up, not the million-and-one self-esteem lessons that didn't even feel like they were intended for me.

Narrative is crucial. No wonder the boy seems bored and keeps asking to read his non-fiction book on big cats. No wonder I'm bored with most of the "stories" that show up on TV. My reaction to most movies is, "They seriously expected someone to pony up $8 to see this?" I've come to expect today's entertainment to be 98 percent junk and I'm reasonably happy when the junk is well enough made that falls into the category of "pleasantly diverting."

Stuck in the middle

2011-06-08T17:00:00.002-06:00

It's obvious that Facebook has taken over the vast majority of things I write for public consumption, and yet I don't write that much there because, in Facebook, your friends are a captive audience.

I should therefore write more freely here but don't really feel the urge as used to. Meh.

Start

2011-04-17T19:37:00.002-06:00

One of the worst feelings on earth: Night before starting new job.

Even worse: Night before taking your first command and knowing that you are way left and way down on the bell curve for experience and job knowledge. Yep, this pony's going to be hard to saddle up.

Quick reviews

2010-10-08T16:49:00.004-06:00

To be a commercial, let me say I love Netflix -- they offer a ridiculous variety of movies, the suggestion ap is relatively useful, and the instant streaming provides plenty of decent movies and all the "Bob the Builder" the boy will ever need.

Some thoughts on the latest things I've watched:

"When In Rome"

Perhaps the lamest rom-com of all time. Incredibly bad. The acting is either too overwrought or too "give-me-my-paycheck-now." It's not a story, it's a list of cliches tapped out by a 13-year-old girl who just had a double-shot of espresso spiked with Ritalin. The plot is driven by a magic fountain that seems more pulled from the posterior than the midi-chlorians* in Star Wars.

And yet: The wife and I essentially turned against this movie about a third of the way through, and ended up cracking jokes and having a good time to the end, when you see a miscast Will Arnett unable to act like he's having a good time during the dance number.

This is the "Plan 9 From Outer Space" of rom-coms. A middling movie would have been more difficult to watch. I'm probably going to check out "Rome" again just to see what else there is to ridicule.

"Beer Wars"

A documentary that doesn't do justice to a fascinating subject. For some reason the woman who created the film thinks we should really be interested in her life. (I'm not.) It also doesn't help her point of view -- which she shoves down our throats the entire movie -- that she's allergic to beer. So she's railing against the major brewers out there (mainly Anheuser-Busch) and their "tasteless" beers, when she hasn't even tasted it or the micro-brews she's championing.

But, as I said, it's a fascinating subject, and there's enough info to keep you watching. It's just that the tone of the film is so strident and banal that it becomes annoying. This film would like to be an op-ed, but it feels more like a letter to the editor from the crazy old lady. (Those of you who work(ed) in newspapers can probably understand that reference better.)

I might write more on this later, as it started a couple of arguments in my head.

"Tenure"

A quaint movie with Owen Wilson and that guy who was on Saturday Night Live for half a season, way back when. It also has Gretchen Mol, who I find attractive simply because of her name. Owen plays a tenure-seeking college professor with a wrecked personal life. It's a simple, non-challenging story that feels like someone's first attempt at movie-making. Still, it's great for a slow, fall afternoon; when you don't mind the easy pace and gentle humor. Also good if you like Owen Wilson. Or quirky stories about English professors. Or Gretchen Mol for having such a hot name.

* Yes, it is spell-checked. You're welcome.

After seeing the Facebook movie "The Social Network"

2010-10-05T19:44:00.003-06:00

Aaron Sorkin presents a dilemma: He gives you dialogue that is rhythmic, smart and an overall joy to put in your head. However, the realist side of my brain keeps reminding me that no one is ever that clever all the time, and few people hit snide asides or perfect take downs with that kind of regularity.

I.E., the dissolution of a relationship is an emotional bloodletting. People doing the breaking up generally give the bad news with words along the lines of, "We're breaking up. And in a mistaken attempt to soften the blow, I'm now going to say a bunch of mealy-mouth stuff that can be misunderstood by willing ears and will actually make this miserable process last even longer."

For the person taking the bad news, the response usually involves incoherent rambling and ineffectual insults about her taste in furniture.

(Perhaps this doesn't follow your experiences, but I'm hoping the personal reference points provide enough of a universal outlook. And that was a hideous end table.)

What I'm saying is that, during a break up, the emotions are detonating in our heads, and maintaining physical control is tough enough, never mind the talky-talk noises.

So, while it was awesome to hear the line:

"You go through life thinking girls don't like you because you're a nerd, but that's not true. Girls don't like you because you're an asshole."

My first thought was: She just made that up on the spot? Really? Did she maybe have that come to her in the shower and then write it down? Wouldn't she need to pause and pull out a note card?

Thanks Aaron, but I get the idea the actual conversation was more like: "Hey, I don't like you and maybe we should break up but you have a lot of good things about you and stuff and maybe we can be really special friends."

Mark Zuckerberg: "But we are good times! I hate your ottoman!"

As to Facebook

I go there all the time, but I don't participate much. I don't want to. My friends list includes about 100 people from my high school years that I never knew that well in the first place. It feels voyeuristic to follow the personal lives of relative strangers, and more than a bit awkward to share my experiences with people who never invited me to parties.
I hate it when I make a comment and am met by a wall of nothing. All those people out there, and I can't get one damn response on my addition to the discussion about how the Cowboys suck? Did I make someone angry? How is it that the girl who wrote "I hate Mondais. ROFLMAO!" started a 30-response conversation?
I also just realized something about the friends list: When you join Facebook, that thing explodes with requests from people all over the planet. You feel like a social behemoth. And then that growth slows down, and then you notice that you've been holding at 169 for eight months. Or was that 171 last week? Who did I hack off now?

The fun just kind of peters out after that.

Reaction to the movie:
Awesome. See it.

Thinking of Manny and Matt

2010-08-29T21:40:00.002-06:00

I needed to get this out of my head before getting on with getting News From Hico back into some kind of working shape.

Within the first three weeks of arriving at Fort Gordon, I got the news that one of the Officer Candidates in my class -- Manny -- had killed himself. I didn't have any clear memory of the guy. He was recycled (Army term for failing out and classing up later), early in my class term, and was later kicked out of the officer candidate program altogether. My reaction was to say "That's terrible" and feel a distant feeling of sadness.

A lot of people come into the military at the end of an emotional rope, and that's not where you want to be mentally when you also have to go through the stress of training. The news about Manny didn't hit me that hard -- and I apologize if that comes through as harsh. A lot of other people remember him as a fun, enthusiastic guy they enjoyed spending time with.

Still, a person I barely remembered killed himself after going through an extremely tough failure.

Matt is easy to remember. Me and Matt went through basic training together at Fort Sill and were in the same class at Officer Candidate School.

We talked often. Matt was extremely likable, though we never became friends. He was a brilliant guy -- philosophy major. He had a look of an intense, proactive and kind intellectualism (if that makes any sense).

Mainly he was the type of guy who could talk over your head, outrun you in a race, and then beat the crap out of you after you finished, not that he would do anything like that. He flew through Officer Candidate School without breaking a sweat -- winning over the rough prior service guys without compromising the intellectualism and kindness that always showed through his personality. (Basically, everyone respected him, despite the fact that most anyone else acting that way would be labeled a geek.)

Three weeks ago, I got the news that Matt had killed himself. It wasn't like hearing about Manny.

Looking back, I guess the evidence of Matt's struggle was there. I can remember a couple of times when he seemed depressed. I didn't think much about it. In OCS, everyone's depressed, and he seemed to bounce back.

When I heard the news, it was the first time I had ever thought, "I wish I could have talked him down, it would have been so easy. His mind. His health. His freaking popularity." There were some rumors of some personal problems Matt had, but none of it added up to much, I guess, to most people's points of view.

I have a Catholic view of suicide -- your life ultimately belongs to God and, therefore, the community of people around you. In other words, your troubles do not give you the right to kill your parents' kid. I'm stuck with a feeling of disappointment in both of these guys.

But mainly I'm stuck with the same feeling everyone has after something like this. It doesn't make sense. It never will. I hope their families and friends will cope as best they can, and remember them for the good people they were.

Die movie. Die.

2010-08-17T08:41:00.003-06:00

So Eat, Pray, Love is about a woman who dumps her husband -- and later her boyfriend -- because she has to take a monumentally expensive trip around the world in order to find herself. Really?

What do you call a man who quits his marriage simply because he's not feelin' it anymore?

A bum.

A scaliwag.

A scoundrel!

Yet a well-off woman can jump ship from a good marriage and get a free pass -- and sometimes even a societal celebration. Maybe a couple of decades ago the story rang true for average-income females stuck in negative relationships with no real options. I get that.

But when your options are either stay in a marriage with people who adore you or take a round-the-world, guru-schmoozing, I-must-find-my-inner-awesome trip... Well, you ma'am are a scoundrel!

A scaliwag.

A bum.

And a more-than-likely tedious presence at parties.

Die movie. Die.

I’m beginning to fear that someday I’ll end up reading ‘Catcher in the Rye’

2010-08-09T20:04:00.002-06:00

A stack of the book sits on a table at Barnes and Noble, under an optimistic sign that labels Catcher and some other novels and nonfiction as “Your Summer Reading Projects.”

I don’t want too. I’ve barely read enough westerns to claim any significant knowledge of the genre outside of Elmer Kelton and that ass-clown genius Larry McMurtry. There’s got to be some more decent, likable fantasy out there, my list of must-read military books keeps growing, and I’ve been wanting to bone up on my knowledge of Native American mythology.

And everybody says Catcher is a horrible book. I’ve heard and seen about a thousand references to how it’s a horrible book. But that’s just it -- EVERYBODY says Catcher is a horrible book. Reading and dismissing it is like some intellectual cool guy patch. You get to be one of those people making sharp comments on TV and in the movies -- disdaining a masterpiece no one has called a masterpiece since boater hats were in.

Despite all the references I still remain unclear on the plot details – something about a snarky adolescent who does nothing yet becomes slightly less of a bastard. I don’t get why anybody would read it, when the primary adjectives about it are “boring”, “pretentious” and “indulgent.” Are other people able to read a book like their personal MST3K episode, throwing in enough jokes and insults to make the whole thing bearable?

I don’t get it.

I know it’s there at Barnes and Noble.

Waiting.

Anyway.

I declare this blog re-opened.

Break

2010-05-27T16:37:00.004-06:00

Hotels and 2-year-olds don't mix. At least not after two hours. We've had a week. And have one more to go.

***

I noticed my friend criteria on Facebook has evolved. I'm no longer asking dudes who I kinda sorta knew back in high school. I'm never ask females unless we're related. And I avoid ex-girlfriends' pages altogether. I still say yes to the people who ask me, and I should probably start adding my military buddies. But I'm really not interested in communicating with more than 165 people at any one time. At least not without a bullhorn.

***

At one point, I was only worried about successfully navigating my way to officer. Now that I'm here, I have enough spare time to worry about when I'm going to find the time to succeed at what I'm doing next.

Waiting. Thursday. Not. Cometh. Yet.

2010-05-15T20:45:00.002-06:00

From a phone conversation between people about 1,000 miles or so away from each other.

Wife (Sounding hurt): So who is going to pin you?

Me (Confused): Pin me? (Pause.) Pin me?

Wife (Sounding frustrated): Yes. People get pinned at graduation. (Hinting sound.) Usually by their wives.

Me (Confused): Pin me with what?

Wife (More frustrated): Your rank.

Me (Confused): But my rank is already stitched on the uniform. I don't know where you would pin something else.

Wife (Extremely frustrated): So I can pin you?

Me (Triumphant. And confused): Yes you can!

Into ye trash to burn, ye spammers

2010-03-24T17:27:00.002-06:00

It's kind of depressing when the main purpose of me coming here nowadays is to delete spam comments from the posts that keep popping up randomly on people's searches. Lame.

Anyway. I'm still alive. Will be back with more eventually.

Hi Mom.

Cadence

2010-02-28T06:47:00.004-07:00

(Wasn't there a book or a movie or something else named "Cadence"? Hmmmm ... I mean something that wasn't already a cadence.)

(A cadence is a song or rhythm called out to keep marching people in step, I.E. "Left, right, left right," in it's simplest form, or "Old King Cole was a merry old soul and a merry old soul was he, uh-huh," in one of the more complicated iterations.)

(Anyway, this post is an update, and basically has nothing to do with cadences.)

Orders is orders, and so I finished basic training and was immediately sent to Officers Candidate School without so much as a stopover with the family. I've spent the week getting some hard workouts in and preparing myself for the physical training test on Monday, which is the first significant hurdle to getting into the school. Thankfully, the scores are adjusted for age, but I'd rather take a month to work out and get ready.

OCS is a different kind of place in the military. Or at least a different atmosphere from basic training -- where you get so used to people treating you like dirt it becomes an expectation. And then we show up here and suddenly we can do things like go to places by ourselves or go to chow when we want to, etc. It's a little unsettling.

Training starts Monday. It's funny, everyone knows that it'll involve working out, academic work, field training -- but no one has any idea what privileges we'll have (cell phone, internet, free pushups, etc.) and that's what people are talking about.

The other day, we were marching to a formation, and the person calling cadence brought up a number from basic:

"Here we go again.
Same old stuff again.
Marching down the avenue.
Twelve more weeks and we'll be through."

A guy I went to basic training with was behind me, muttering "No. God, no." We're all kind of there. Everyone is actually enthusiastic about the training and what it'll do for us, everyone misses the people they can't be with.

The thrill is going, going, gone ...

2009-12-30T20:30:00.002-07:00

I feel like I've reached my limit on reading and listening about the Mike Leach firing by the Raiders of Red. And I've been pretty much listening and reading about it since noon. Yesterday.

Anyway, as I'm bored with the arguments as to why he got canned, I've been thinking about why I'll miss the guy. Dale Hanson, channel 8 sports personality/quasi-journalist, opined during the evening news about the numerous Tech fans who were throwing up their hands and saying they would never have anything to do with the program ever again. Never ever.

Hanson rightly called this a bunch of B.S., saying the fans will still be there, especially if Texas Tech can keep winning, keep getting better. And he's right. I even spent part the day thinking about who the next head coach would be and who would be a good choice. Time keeps moving forward.

But Hanson also misses something pretty obvious. Anytime you get rid of a personality within the organization, the organization changes.

And there were a lot of reasons I loved having Mike Leach within the organization:

His overall craziness combined with success brought more attention to Tech than ever before.
He had a great image: Combative, eccentric, intelligent, innovative, tenacious. That image reflected on Tech.
His style of offense and aggressive play just made the game fun to watch.
He said what he thought, and was frequently hilarious while doing so.
He seemed to get A&M's goat for no other reason than he could do so. That was fun.

All that goes away with Leach, no matter who replaces him. Some personalities are irreplaceable, and the Texas Tech administration just threw that away, bringing the end to a great time to be a Red Raider fan.

That's the biggest disappointment for me in this dang deal.

Basic thoughts on basic training

2009-12-30T14:18:00.002-07:00

So, after having a week to recover, and now going through a week to build myself back up, here's what's in my head after all of two-and-a-half weeks of Army training.

Easily the most ignorant and stupid thing I've said in the last decade, and I've said a lot of ignorant and stupid things: "All right! I train in the winter! It won't be hot!"
I guess I've lived through to many north Texas winters to consider that fact that a 9-degree windchill is not a fun thing to stand in formation. Unlike heat, you can't really get away from the cold. It permeates everything, all the time, and it's a living thing with the sole purpose of making me sick.
Beyond that, training is very doable. Even for a 39 year old, so long as the 39 year old isn't sick. Damn cold.
Half of basic training is sitting in a big classroom, listening to a lecture, struggling to stay awake. They don't show that in the movies.
Drill Sergeants act the way that you've always seen them portrayed. The main difference is that the anger and the yelling isn't personal. It's really motivated by professionalism. They have to train you to act like a professional under fire, and they have all of nine weeks to do it. It's not an easy thing to do.
Food: Generally not really good. Very monotonous. But not without its high points.
The level of misery brought on simply by not being able to see your family: Orange. The crap thing is that, after the Christmas break, I'll have a little less than a week before shipping off again. Sucks. But it's the deal you volunteer for. And I get a lot of satisfaction out of finally adding a paycheck to the family kitty.
Six hours of sleep a night. Uhhngghh.
The fun stuff -- shooting, camping, obstacle course -- begins when I go back. Looking forward to that. So long as I don't get sick. Damn cold.
Why Texas Tech? Why?

Favorite new toy

2009-12-26T17:28:00.003-07:00

Me and Meredith felt kinda bad this Christmas, not having a video camera. The boy's talking a storm and running around all over the place, and we haven't really captured that.

So, thanks to me finally having a job and us finally getting some financial breathing space, we went out today and spent a wad of cash on a video recorder, camera bag, and DVD burner. We had to have a lesson in how to do it. The last time either of us were recording videos, we had to shoot on those huge cameras that recorded directly to the VHS tape. We were in kind of a culture shock.

So, here's the first thing we got. Sam enjoys appearing on-screen.

A longer lookback at 'Stripes'

2009-11-14T06:27:00.003-07:00

From Stripes:

"Have you seen the people enlisting in the Army? They're just like us!"

"Yeah, except they aren't as OLD as us."

***

Meredith's parents came to watch Sam last night, giving us a chance to go on a date. We had expensive Thai food, walked around downtown for a bit, stopped by the Barnes and Noble, and had expensive deserts on the roof of a downtown restaurant. Then we came home and watched Stripes. Great times. I hope this becomes a pre-assignment tradition, even though I stayed up way past my bedtime.

***

Netflix sent us an extended version of Stripes, which I did not know existed. Most of the extended scenes are boring -- exposition explaining why what happened next happened. But you already know what happened, and you don't really care about the logic behind it.

There is one cut scene, however, that is just bizarre beyond belief. I imagine they came up with it when they were first writing the movie as it was originally envisioned: Cheech and Chong Join the Army. I'm not kidding. Worth checking out if you're a fan.

***

I don't begrudge Fort Worth getting all dressed up for TCU's big moment in the sun today. Sky scrapers are lit up with purple lights, the local media is exhorting people to go to the ESPN Gameday show because "it's important," etc. Good for them. They've got a good team this year and it still gravels them that they aren't in the Big 12.

Still, maybe because it's a private school, maybe because Fort Worth is part of a metroplex that usually finds better things to do, but a lot of the enthusiasm seems faked to me. Just saying.

***

Hmmm ... Chili sounds really good right now.

Mmmmm ... donut explosion

2009-11-12T08:01:00.003-07:00

"You got a lot to learn yet, Millie. I don't want it on my conscience that I was the one taught you."

-- From Elmer Kelton's Llano River

***

I stopped by Shipley's Do-nuts this morning, part of farewell tour of unhealthy food I'm taking before shipping out. Meredith and me are going on a date Friday, and I've been debating what and where we would eat. I'm tempted by chicken fried steak, but I'll save that for after training. Chicken fried steak is for coming home to, not leaving.

***

Ever notice how all the old, semi-successful donut chain shops were all built in the '60s and '70s? Otherwise, why all the faded browns and oranges and fiberglass? This had me wondering this morning. What happened in the 60s and 70s to cause such a large amount of donut shop construction? Was there a donut explosion of demand? Some kind of new technology? And why did it end, more or less?

***

My to-do list is shorter, but still intimidating.

***

A lot of that music on the boy's kiddie CDs is starting to sound good.

Ever-So-Much-More-So

2009-11-11T04:32:00.003-07:00

I was thinking my eyes would be popping open at 4:30 a.m. by now. I was wrong.

***

Life, before you leave to start on something new, takes on a condensed, ultra-concentrated kind of feel. It reminds me of a story I randomly read back in elementary, called "Ever So Much More So."

It's funny what stays with you. I trolled for information on the story this morning ... and, aha ... The Wikipedia entry for the Homer Price* stories:

"Flim-flam merchants and larger-than-life paraphernalia appear in several stories. One features a snake-oil salesman — Professor Atmos P. H. Ear — offloading an odorless, colorless, tasteless chemical called 'Ever-So-Much-More-So' that when sprinkled on things, supposedly enhances everything; a soft bed would become softer, a fast car becomes faster, and so on."

In elementary, it seemed that every year we watched a film about a donut machine that wouldn't stop making donuts, and all hell breaks loose after a woman claims her diamond bracelet fell into the batter. The stories are from the same root. That's something I'll have to check out when I get back. Sam's getting to an age where I'll be able to read any children's story to him with impunity.

***

I bought a book yesterday, a time-killing tool for the traveling and registration period before training actually begins. (This normally takes about four days, but I've been told that it can take weeks.)

So I went to Half-Price books and moseyed over to the fiction section. I didn't really know what I wanted, only what I didn't want:

No westerns. (I'm reading one right now.)
No war novels, any time period. (I don't need to read about guts and glory -- things will go much better if I stay focused on the practical.)
No fantasy or sci-fi. (See above.)

Considering how the above list constitutes 95 percent of my normal reading material, picking out a book was not easy. I eventually ambled over into history, where I had to deal with the fact that everyone in my platoon (squad, whatever) will know what I'm reading, and God knows what cultural background baggage they're bringing with them. So, no books on tribal Africa, stay away from Samurai histories and don't even look at the Middle East section.

So I shuffled back into fiction and eventually picked out a novel by the same guy who wrote Watership Down, one of the better books I've read in the last five years. The story is called Plague Dogs and has a picture of two canines on the cover. That'll do.

Gold Bond, for all your naughty bits

2009-11-10T05:29:00.004-07:00

Funny how I only thought of Gold Bond Powder as a product for the feet, when I thought about it at all. I've just learned that it's also good for your nether regions. The Army is going to give me a hell of an education.

***

Favorite line from the Elmer Kelton novel Barbed Wire:

"But nothing ever graveled Monahan quite so much as to have someone sitting around idly on his fat haunches, watching him work."

Yep. "Graveled" as a verb. Awesome.

***

I imagine that those of you who are interested in this sort of thing have already seen it, but just in case you haven't: The Denver Post had a photographer follow a soldier around, from high school graduation, to his basic training, to his deployment, to his return home. It's a pretty amazing body of work, and they don't shy from some of the rougher aspects of this guy's journey. I suppose it's a good example of what I'm in for, only without the Jerry Springer aspects of a personal life.

It'd be great to have an 18-year-old's body, but not at the cost of 19 more years of experience.

***

I'm happy that I'm no longer treading water in a journalism career. Still, some things are disconcerting -- like the Abilene Reporter-News web site. It used to have personality -- tons of local art and a notable presence of the local staff members. Now it looks like one of those web sites you land on after making a typo in the address bar. (Eh... After taking a second look at it maybe I'm being a little harsh, they do have local art. Still, the overall look is pretty sterile.)

***

It's better to run three to four miles every day than six miles every other day, I've decided. It's also better to keep to your rule about no more nachos.

***

And yes, I am looking forward to the next episode of "V."

There's some weird stuff on the radio at 5 a.m., Saturday

2009-11-07T04:41:00.003-07:00

Reading the coverage this morning of my high school's loss to city rival Lubbock Coronado (21-20, another game in which placekicking was paramount), I was reminded of this conversation with my Army recruiter when he set up my military account.

Recruiter: OK, it's going to ask a series of security questions ... What was your high school mascot?

Me: The Plainsmen.

Recruiter: ... The What?

Me: The Plainsmen. Men of the plains?

Recruiter: Were the Plainsmen especially tough people or something?

Me: If you'd been to Lubbock, it'd make sense.

Recruiter: ... OK, let's go with another question.

***

Come to think of it, our mascot was always dressed in a blue buckskin, which didn't make a lot of sense. Every fur trapper all over the West wore buckskin. You'd be better off going with the pioneer outfit of a flat-brimmed hat, white shirt and suspenders. Those were the people who stayed.

***

The Springtown mascot is the porcupine.

***

Yep, Tech doesn't have a game this Saturday and I'm definitely jonesing. Ah well, I can get stuff done, I guess.

***

Getting up early is good, but the time does fly in the morning. My alarm went off at 4:30. All I did was stop by the bathroom and then go outside to fetch the newspaper. That somehow burned 25 minutes. And it's 6:02 a.m. before I'm done here. Sheesh. Need to get to work.

Shooting at Fort Hood

2009-11-06T04:37:00.003-07:00

Fort Hood is my top pick for a post spot once I'm done with all my preliminary training. I'd get to raise my kid in Texas, and in one of my favorite parts of Texas. The small country road in front of our farm in Hico goes in a straight line to Hood's north gate.

I don't confuse myself (yet) with someone who actually is a soldier. I spent yesterday sending prayers to the victims and families, and feeling anger at the shooter. There was a new feeling -- worry about how my wife would take it, worry that my family could become potential targets -- even though I know it's not reasonable.

Last night, I spent some time in a couple of online chats for new recruits, and the incident was barely mentioned in either. That's the point, I guess -- things just keep going.

SyFy is a dumb spelling for network that caters to geeks

2009-11-05T04:15:00.002-07:00

When I boot up the computer every morning, it'll fool me for a bit by working quickly. I know better.

***

A few more thoughts on V.

I've read a few articles that talk about how "V" is taking aim at the Obama administration. The aliens offer "health care." People give them slavish devotion without knowing their goals. The people opposing them are debunked as weird people on the fringe.

Meh. In the end it's a show about lizards in spaceships that want to eat us. To the lengths that a popular TV show will pick up on the zeitgeist and incorporate it is all to the good, so long as it doesn't come across as preaching.

I didn't even think about it until I read later how Battlestar Gallactica used the first part of season three to argue that suicide bombers have a point. And after I knew, I didn't care. It's entertainment. The viewer gets to decide what lessons he takes from the experience, not the creators.

***

To go in the opposite direction (and yet, not really), I chose Elmer Kelton's two novel compilation, Brush Country, as the last book to read before going to basic training. Kelton lived in San Angelo and wrote about the area and history he knew. And he usually comes up with something historically interesting, even if his stories tend to be straightforward.

For example, in the novel "Barbed Wire," you learn that the fencing of the prairie was actually a good thing. I remember all these romanticized tales about how the fencing of the prairie was a tragedy and a loss of freedom. Actually, more of the opposite.

Anyway, I just wanted a reminder of the people I grew up with before heading out.

***

I have dreams about my Grandma's old house in Oak Cliff at least once a month. Always comforting and kind of sad at the same time.

Put blog post title here

2009-11-04T04:33:00.004-07:00

No Facebook, I don't want to nag my friend about his lack of a profile picture. Nor do I want to jump all over another buddy for only having 12 friends -- she lives in England for Pete's sakes.

Mind your own %$#@!@#$%^&*-damn business.

***

The thing about going to bed early and getting up early is that it's easier to get up early than to get to bed early, in the long run.

Last night, the lights were out at 10 p.m., thirty minutes later than they should have been and only because I shrugged off some chores that needed doing. It was still the earliest I'd managed to get to bed. I collapsed in a three-hour nap yesterday because I was tired of being brain dead. At one point I tried to put milk into the pantry.

***

Some thoughts on "V."

Fun, but ...
They couldn't update the whole lizards-in-human-clothing thing?
Alan Tudyk! (Plano native who played Hoban on "Firefly", though he's probably better known as the guy who talked like a pirate in "Dodgeball.")
All the main characters are handsome, 30-something cardboard cutouts. After watching, all I can tell you about is FBI-agent woman, Priest, surly teen, concerned African-American, etc. After watching Battlestar Gallactica once, I would tell you about Freakin' Commander Adama.
Morena Baccarin! (Why is it that the two Firefly cast members are playing lizards?)
"Devotion" is the greatest weapon of all? Oh, come on. It might be Love, or a planet explodin' laser beam, but it ain't "devotion."

***

So. After keeping this blog inactive for months, I finally checked out the visitor counter yesterday. Discovered that last Thursday, before I started this thing up again, I had one of my biggest traffic days ever -- 60 people.

The weird thing -- 40 of those people picked that day to search the phrase "famous internet stuff." They weren't all from one location and I hadn't noticed anything in the news, but there they were, checking out a random post I did about two years ago, before I could even embed videos.

I hardly remember anything on that post, except for the "My Hands Are Bananas" video. What's a little stranger is Meredith telling me yesterday (before I told her about the visiting spike) that she couldn't stop humming "beware the milky pirate."

Hmmmmmm ...

It's one of those things that isn't funny, just random to the point that it seems funny.

Aggie coach visits antique store, rents sense of humor

2009-11-03T04:27:00.002-07:00

I wonder if my nose is doing something weird or if the oatmeal does actually taste funny. But what can go wrong with oatmeal?

***

In the Star-Telegram today, A&M coach Mike Sherman enjoys poking a fresh wound:

... When asked about the impact of playing at altitude this week in Boulder, Colo., ... Sherman suggested it would not be that different from playing in Lubbock (elevation 3,256 feet).
“Lubbock’s a pretty good altitude up there,” Sherman said. “There’s a lot of hot air up there, too. We had to deal with that.”

Well, now. Gather up the torches and pitchforks and clang the dinner bell extra loud.

It's like Mike Leach has been schooled by the old guy at work who last attempted a joke during the Ford administration. A player did a better job of it:

Tackle Micheal Shumard joined the Leach-bashing chorus when asked about Sherman’s decision to take a knee in the final minute of last week’s 35-10 victory over Iowa State.
“That shows class,” Shumard said. “I would hate to be a player for a team that would try and score with … 20 seconds left in the game. That would call time out to try and score.”

I think Leach did that at A&M after the refs took a touchdown away from one of his players, and besides, he takes as good as he gives, but, meh.

This is all and all a good thing: It fires Tech up during their off week, and gives them bulletin board material for next year, so they can remember to show up and play.

***

Buddy of mine recently told me how he's basically gotten too old to enjoy "blaring guitars" in his music anymore. I'm further gone -- I have a hard time listening to anything nowadays that's less than 50 years old. Give me old jazz, give me baroque or classical guitar and I'm happy.

That being said, "Poker Face" has been rattling around in my head for the last few days, after Cartman did it on South Park.

I even got Sam to go around yelling "Ma ma ma ma poker face," at which point Meredith told me it meant something dirty. Ah well, if I didn't get that, I doubt Sam did.

Hmmmm ... This English tea ...

2009-11-02T04:13:00.002-07:00

Seems a little stronger than the American type. I still wonder if I'll regret not drinking coffee. By the way, Starbuck's Via Instant Coffee is pretty dang good. Especially so, if you're stumbling around at 4:30 a.m. and don't have the coordination needed to work a coffee machine. Just boil water and go, big guy.

***

It's not regular coffee? You lied to me!

The Star-Telegram reminded me of this today. Watching it for the 1,000th time, I noticed that the fictional location of the shoot was "Shreveport, Louisiana."

***

A) I like my teams to win.
B) I like to see my teams develop.

I don't really get being so angry with a team you're a fan of that you'd just switch off the season. I don't get publicly trashing a player (so long as the player is trying) when he doesn't come through. Maybe it's because I grew up around coaches and athletes. There's too much of the human side I'm aware of.

But mainly, things change. Dudes practice, learn from mistakes. I get tired of reading the fan boards and seeing people who have declared this player or that team beyond redemption.

A) It doesn't make sense.
B) Get over your jilted-lover crush. I'm amazed after reading this stuff that football players aren't the nation's highest per capita victims of stalking.

***

It seemed fun to teach the boy how to say, "Sam de la Barrio!" ... until we were in the middle of Rosa's Cafe and Tortilla Factory.

Ah, who am I kidding? It was still fun.

Going and gone

2009-11-01T10:49:00.001-07:00

I've been easing into this look since college.

No matter how much weight you've lost, shaving your head makes you realize you could stand to lose some more.

Random brain happenings at 4:30 a.m.

2009-10-31T20:41:00.003-06:00

Man. When you have to start waking up at 4:30 a.m. to prepare yourself for training, "fall back" is the most special daylight savings time of them all. Still. Man.

***

Meredith is shaving my head today. Pictures to follow. I stopped giving myself buzz cuts a long time ago, mainly because the scalp zit is the king of zit-related pain. But I've been told that shaving your own head makes the transition to basic training a little less traumatic, so buzz away. I just hope I don't scare the hell out of the kid.

***

Does anyone watch The Simpsons anymore? And if you do, is it because you think it's still funny?

***

I've decided to cut down the list of "Things I Must Do Before Shipping Out." Some of the reason why is practical, as I just don't have the time to spend a day walking along Mustang Island humming my favorite Texas music tunes. But mainly, I just need to prepare myself on the job at hand, and it's tough to do anything if everything suddenly takes on a sentimental tinge. "Gee honey, I'd like to run to the WalMart to pick up some lettuce and bananas, but it'll be the last time before I go and just too emotionally overwhelming. (Sob)."

***

I think I'll be far better off with the whole military career thing if I keep in my mind that, all things considered, it's a job. There's no need for me to think about George Washington looking over my shoulder every time I go to the bathroom. Just. Do. The. Job.

***

Seriously, The Simpsons? This struck me when I was taking a run in Hico a coupla weeks back. I haven't watched an entire new episode since 2005. The last show I attempted to watch started with Bart seeing the nerd kid driving a combine. Obvious storyline: Bart gets into an agricultural program and to his horror discovers where meat comes from. I watched something else for a bit, but when I switched it back at the end of the half-hour, there Bart was, trying to rescue a scared-looking pig. Why watch if you can predict what's going to happen beforehand?

***

I can understand watching out of a sentimental attachment to a show that's been around for, good Lord, the majority of my life. I watched all of the Bob Hope specials long after he'd lost his edge. But, even in his dotage, Hope managed to project a sense of his greatness. The Simpsons just cheapen themselves further each season -- Marge in frickin' Playboy? They'd be better off if they cut out the tired jokes and the tired plot and just put Lisa up there for 22 minutes, lecturing us on the progressive way of life. It's what they want to do anyway.

***

Ah, Hope:

Sorry to break the "No politics, ever" rule. But it's harmless. And it's probably my last time to do that before ... (sob).

A life with no sauce

2009-10-09T03:54:00.003-06:00

It’s 4 a.m., raining, and not easy to sleep. I’ve maintained radio silence here long enough that it’s doubtful anyone comes here regularly anymore.

So how ‘bout some self-indulgent navel gazing?

A week ago, I was eating dinner with Sam, listening to one of his CDs play through a song about Dad Fish and Son Fish going up to the surface of the ocean to check things out. My meal consisted of brown rice, tuna and peas. Sam was going through his macaroni, marinara sauce and chicken, cheese and some kind vegetables. I couldn’t help but notice that he probably was getting more calories than me, and it tasted better to boot.

I figured that my meal – plain, healthy, boring as hell – was a pretty good metaphor for my life for the time being.

My daily schedule:

Drag myself out of bed by 10.
Eat cereal.
Talk myself into my five-mile run.
Run, if talk was successful, or eat lunch if not.
Run, if unsuccessful the first time.
Dinner preparation, household chores.
Dinner.
Dishes.
Put Sam to bed.
Should I sleep or do treadmill work? Hmmmmm ...

Throw in there: Three or four sets (if I’m being good) of push-ups, sit-ups and planks; reading-on-demand for Sam; talking to Meredith about frustrations with work/school. Try to throw in: Something to prepare for the massive life-change we’ll be making next month.

The result -- of the monotonous schedule and the focus on the Army -- is that life has become very dull, very tense. Or maybe that’s just the state of mind I’m stuck in. I don’t like myself much lately. I’m too snappish with my wife. My son has fully entered the terrible twos stage, and that’s been an adventure. “Adventure” as in something that’ll be funny about 16 years from now.

I’ve banned myself from making comments on Facebook because I just tend to pop up and rain on everyone’s parade. I.E.:

Some Person 1: Wow, is it still Monday? Why can’t it be Friday!!

Some other person: ROFLMAO!!! U R hillareous!!!

Me: I realize I only knew one of you briefly at Evans Junior High, but let me invite both of you to kill yourselves.

(Besides it’s unfair. If people don’t have a right to complain about Mondays on Facebook, I don’t have a right to spend an hour talking about the weather in Hico every time I see my Dad.)

If I had an 18-year-old body and no responsibilities, I’d be able to blow off steam in the typical juvenile ways until my shipping date. But I have responsibilities, and my diet has cut out alcohol to the point where the smell of beer gives me a second-hand buzz.

Basic training is a big unknown. You kind of know what you’ll be doing – running, getting yelled at, tear gas training, waking up really early – but you have no idea how that’ll translate into a day-to-day existence for nine weeks. I’m stuck wanting to get it over with and wanting to take more time to be in better shape for it.

Every now and then I’ll go to the Army web site, look at some videos and see the guns that I’ll be shooting. That gets me psyched up. Still, the whole thing still seems unreal to me and Meredith.

I guess it’ll be real enough, very soon.

How 'bout a nice tall glass of lemonade? And other thoughts

2009-09-10T13:44:00.002-06:00

The ingredients: water, sugar, lemon juice.
The most complicated part of the process: boiling water.

I've cooked some fairly complicated things before with dozens of ingredients.

And this is probably the best tasting thing I've ever made. Like refreshing rays of frosted coated sunshine, poured down your throat by a squirrel perched between the antler's of a 16-point buck. Anyway ...

Bring the pain on softly
Few things concentrate the mind like knowing that, in a couple of months, your physical fitness level will figure greatly in the amount of yelling and abuse thrown in your direction. Hence my running, while not at the level it needs to be, has become serviceable. (Even though I still feel rage when I see the younger folks jogging around, hoarding all the cartilage.) And my abdominal muscles are coming out from my blubber, much like an emaciated bear comes out of the snow at the end of hibernation.

But my upper body strength is gone, gone. I kind of knew this from the difficulty I've had with push-ups, but I really discovered this yesterday, when I finally installed my chin-up bar. My maximum number of reps? Zero. As in can't do any.

So I've been going a little crazy since with the push-ups, and today I did a chin-up rep of one-and-a-half. This'll be an interesting time.

Yard
I was right, a month ago, when I said the edge installation in the front yard would take about a week. It's just that I haven't put in a week yet. I'm closer to day five, overall.

On the tele
So, Meredith has at last agreed that it's time to get a new tv, and it is my task to find it. I'm not too picky, but it needs to be cheap and work with an antenna. Any suggestions would be welcome.

Paper sergeant? Good morning.

2009-09-08T16:20:00.004-06:00

When I took my oath a few weeks ago, I had planned on announcing it here straightaway, with the usual attempts at comedy. But I held back for a few reasons that at the time were unclear to me.

First off, this is serious, life-changing business for me, my wife, my kid, and both our families. Kicking it off with a few jokes was inappropriate.

Second, after telling a few people, it was apparent I’d have to get used to the bug-eyed reactions of people suddenly forced to manually drive their thought processes forward.

“He’s joining the Army? But he’s 37? ... 37 is old ... Isn’t there some kind of restriction or law or ... he’s 37? ... Fat?”

And when you get enough reactions from people telling you how various parts of their anatomy – mouth, seat, etc. – have hit the floor, you feel almost guilty for getting that kind of rise out of them.

(With apologies to friends who told me something on their person had hit the floor, which would be pretty much all of you. It’s a normal reaction. And thanks to Charokee, Alicia and John for the letters.)

Still, over time, not talking about it becomes worse than talking about it, so here it is:

Around May, when my attempt to join the educational workforce of the Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex was crashing into a brick wall, I started to really look into exactly what my options were:

I could spend a school year twiddling my thumbs, hoping that next year something might open up and I’d be able to win out over the same pool of experienced, better-trained teachers who were unable to find work this year.
I could go back to college and spend three-four years earning another degree. Although this would force my wife to hold off on her plans of getting another degree.
I could try something that I always wanted to do: the Army. I’ll say the pay’s good, and sometimes really good. The benefits are outstanding. And after getting through training, I’ll be in the best shape of my life and have more opportunity to advance than I’ve had in a long, long time.

As to the why -- I've always been a God and Country kind of person. I don't talk about it much, but I've always had a tremendous amount of respect for what the Army does. Part of me has always wanted to be involved.

I’ve included a list of most of the questions I’ve been getting.

You’ll be doing what?
I’ve joined as an officer candidate. I’ll be a second lieutenant at the end of training. I don’t plan on being a combat specialist, just on supplying the fighting regiments or telling them where to shoot.

You’re too old and fat.
(No one’s said that, but I know what they’re thinking.) The Army recently raised its enlistment age maximum to 40. My profile picture on Facebook was 30 pounds ago. I keep that doughboy’s face up there for motivation. Fitness-wise, I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m getting there.

How have people reacted?
Generally there’s shock. Some come back after a bit to tell me congratulations or good luck, some don’t.

When?
I ship to basic in mid-November. I’ll be done with that in February, and will have a few weeks off before Officer Candidate School starts in March. That’ll be done in May, followed by another school that’ll teach me how to operate in whatever branch of the Army I will serve in. That’ll take a few more months. So, around this time next year, your tax money will finally start paying me to work in a job as opposed to teaching me how to work in that job.

How’s the wife?
Up days and down days. She sees the logic of the decision, does her best to support me as I get ready. Worries about running the house all by herself, worries about losing me for a year, and worries about me getting shot. I told her when I made the decision that this was going to be a lot harder on her than it ever is on me. I’m still sure that I’m right about that.

We're both really thankful for our parents, who have volunteered to help with the daycare duties until I'm done with training. That's a HUGE help.

Won’t the boy miss you?
I guess. I don’t know -- the boy isn’t two yet -- and the whole time I’m gone, he’ll be surrounded by family. The real question is “Won’t you miss the boy?” I’ve been a stay-at-home dad now for 20 months. I like the kid. I can only guess at what kind of emotional panic I’ll be experiencing when it’s time to leave.

Do you REALLY want to do this?
Yeah. What? You never did?

And Now for a Bit of Two Journalists Bitching About the State of the Industry ...

2009-09-08T14:12:00.002-06:00

Setting: A couple -- young, strapping but wizened – are sitting in a kitchen in a post-breakfast daze.

Man: I saw where B.J. posted a story on Facebook about a newspaper that started making money again just by charging for their online content. People returned to buying the actual paper.

Woman (sarcastically): Wow. Imagine that. It’s never worked for anyone, like the Wall Street Journal. Let’s just keep giving it away for free and see what happens.

Man: Yeah. (Dropping into dumb big shot voice.) I’m a newspaper consultant from the Northeast, and I think visibility equals profit. Duh. You’ve been giving away your stuff for free so long that people now resent the idea of paying for information. Duh. Free on-line is the future!

Woman: Idiots.

Man: Morons.

End scene.

Blog status: More inactiver

2009-08-10T14:06:00.002-06:00

Just writing to let y'all know that I won't be posting much for a while. Sorry I can't give you a definite time frame, but experience has shown that I can't predict how long these absences last, or how complete the lack of postings will be. This is my favorite place to post Sam and Hico, pictures, after all.

As to why -- I've got some major things I need to do with my life right now (I.E. getting over my paralyzing fear of clowns, once and for all). And those things are taking up all the space in my head usually reserved for the things that end up here.

I came up with a premise on Saturday, "Baby Indian Names for Parents." You know, "Man-who-Stretches-Elastic-of-Boxer-Shorts" and whatnot, and couldn't really come up with anything satisfactory after two days.

I think it's time to walk away for a bit, and I don't want the regular visitors to get peeved without telling them whatsup, as the young people say.

I'll post a link on Facebook when I get back. Later.

Happy Monday

2009-08-03T08:07:00.004-06:00

Some short observations. Because I can't think of what to update my Facebook status with ...

-- I like bacon. But I've noticed lately that pronouncing your fondness for it has become a macho badge for people too old to wear pants that don't cover their rear ends. Bacon's a good, non-PC kind of meat, but it doesn't turn you into the Marlboro man. Even if you smoke it. (ha ... ha.)

-- Speaking of Facebook. I figured out why I keep going back, despite my continual annoyance with it. It's like a cable channel of me. I go there, I don't participate much, but I get to check in on the folks. It's fun to see what clever/stupid thing Opie has written, and to see everyone else calling him a moron. I enjoy BJ's commentary on hip hop society, which I know absolutely nothing about. And it's interesting to see your high school class operating under pretty much the same social structure as it did umpteen years ago -- and to not really care that much.

It's a custom-made, continual update into various tiny bits of my memory. Kinda vain and useless, but better than most of what's on actual cable TV.

-- Never put tomato sauce into anything that's supposed to taste Mexican. It sounds instinctive, but some recipes would have you think otherwise.

-- Haha

These were posted on The Corner over the weekend. It was fun to laugh at them even though I had mostly no idea what they were talking about. I realized that all I actually know about philosophy is essentially what I've picked up through jokes about it.

Little League and sports haikus

2009-07-28T14:02:00.003-06:00

My nephew, who plays for the all-star team of the same Lubbock Little League I played in growing up, was in Fort Worth over the weekend for a state tournament.

Will plays multiple positions for the Southwest All-Stars, and my brother is one of the team coaches. (Added note: This team is coached by the sons of and includes two grandsons of two former Texas Tech baseball coaches, my Dad and Larry Hays. Kinda neat.)

Will at the bat.

It’s been too long since I went to a Little League game. I had a great time. The teams playing at this level – even if they are 9 and 10 year olds -- are playing some good quality ball. Plus, you get a great seat and things move slowly enough that you can keep track of things. I like going to Rangers games, but the cost is stupid and the distance I have to sit away from the action means I spend most of my time making estimates as to what just happened.

Sam and Dad calculate batting averages and time to diaper change.

Good ole Southwest finished second, which is nothing to sniff at; but there was some serious disappointment when they lost their final game. Still, it was fun to see the family and watch my nephew play. And with some luck and work, there’s always next year.

I remember that time in my life – when there was always next year. Sigh.

Sports related haikus
(At this point, a few words more than suffice.)

The Cowboys
Romo? Whatever.
The old boss is the same boss,
bad Botox or not.

The state of the NFL
Now Michael Vick can
stop torturing his doggies
and start hurting fans.

The BCS
The stadiums fill.
Excitement runs high, and then
Everybody whines.

The Rangers
I am sorry, but
my belief circuitry has
been fried to a crisp.

On Tech’s chances
I’m sure we’ll do good.
But it won’t be as awesome.
Success breeds boredom.

On the University of Texas
Mack
Brown
Dumb.

Swimming?

2009-07-24T00:27:00.002-06:00

It's kinda hard to take pictures of your kid's swimming lesson, when you have to deal with a body conscious Mama and the problems of shooting on a cloudy day across a pool.

Also, Sam hasn't quite learned how to always look for the camera and smile yet. (Let's hope he never does.)

Anyway, the boy is taking lessons at the nearby YMCA. It's not like they teach toddlers how to do the butterfly. It's more learning about how to be in water and get used to it. I have my doubts about the overall usefulness of said course. It's not like the boy is going to tell us how much he learned. On the other hand, it's special together time with at least one parent, and you hope he gets a chance to get used to being around other kids. If not the water.

Sam and Meredith enter the YMCA, Sam decked out in his hat, swim shirt, swim trunks and Croc shoes. Did I mention it was a cloudy day? Meredith applied sunscreen once we got poolside.

Me and my wife have had several conversations about Sam's "red" crocs. As they seem to be more mauve. My wife insists she bought them out of the boys' section. It was Todd who pointed out that it's not the color, so much as the fact that he's a boy, and he's wearing Crocs.

Ah well, for a 22-month-old, practicality overrules all.

The swim lessons are fairly basic and unstructured. The kids get in the pool, splash with their legs, splash with their feet, and then work through various aspects of being in water -- jumping in, going under, etc.

The lesson begins.

And we work on the floating on the back.

There is generally one moment of the lesson where the kids are brought along further than they were the day before. On Thursday, this was the instant the children were all dunked -- very quickly -- under water and brought back up. It was as if eight crying and screaming spigots were all turned on at once.

Still, Sam obviously enjoyed himself, splashing all over the place and making his noises. I guess I'm a normal enough parent as I just enjoyed the chance to watch.

Geek update: Game of Thrones

2009-07-22T00:17:00.003-06:00

Weird how I note something one day and there's news on the subject the next day. On second thought, it's not weird. It just shows how far behind I am.

Anyway, Sean Bean, has been cast to play the "lead" in Game of Thrones, the upcoming HBO series based on A Song of Ice and Fire, the book series I was talking about two posts back.

The books revolve around a battle among seven kingdoms and between two ruling families for control of the Iron Throne, the possession that ensures survival through a 40-year winter to come.

Bean will play Lord Eddard "Ned" Stark, known for his sense of honor and justice, who becomes closest adviser to King Robert (Addy).

Ummm, not exactly, but I won't spoil it for you.

Bean played Boromir in Lord of the Rings, and has otherwise made a career of playing determined men with antique weapons and impractical uniforms. Naturally, I'm a fan.

Cat-hat

2009-07-21T00:52:00.006-06:00

I take it as a good thing that Sam has been so enthusiastic about getting a book read to him. A couple of weeks back, Meredith checked out a catalog of Dr. Seuss classics from the library, and the boy became even more enthusiastic about reading.

Brutally enthusiastic. Sam now lets us know it's storytime by bringing us a book and chanting "read! read! read!" -- while punching us in the face with said book to make sure we get the idea.

I can't say why he likes Seuss. The stories are far more complicated than the books he already has, and I can't really believe Sam understands what's going on. I guess the pictures and the rhyming and the expressions are easy for him to enjoy.

For me, it's a trip through some stories I'd almost forgot. Before this month, I couldn't have told you what happened in The Cat in the Hat, except what I vaguely remembered from the movie. Now I could tell you that the story seems to be an exploration of a child's conflicting need to behave and to act independently.

I was curious enough after reading it for the 50th time to see if I could locate the original film on YouTube. All I found was a clip. It's easy to see why the cartoon hasn't stayed with us. A Charlie Brown Christmas has a timeless message with iconic music. The Cat in the Hat comes off like a cheap variety show.

Memories from a place I've never seen; notes

2009-07-19T14:10:00.003-06:00

It must be getting late into the travel season, if the Star-Telegram is running travel stories on small-town apple orchards near Idalou, Texas.

Still the Apple Country Hi Plains Orchards seems to be a place with plenty of charm:

“Many customers use the backdrop of the low-hanging, red, green or slightly pink apple-covered trees as a photo opportunity for their children. Giggles and laughter are heard through the rows of trees as pickers compare and contrast their harvests with others, some sampling their take along the way and providing on-the-spot reviews, all good reports.”

I grew up in Lubbock, went on dozens of road trips that took through Idalou, and up until I read the story, I had no idea that this place existed.

Still I remembered times when I was small, when my Mom would put me in the station wagon and we’d drive out to nearby farm, where the owners allowed you to pick your own share of the crop. Mom would get a basket of green beans, take them home, pick off the ends and can them. At the time, I thought it was maybe the most boring process in the world.

For a couple of anniversary gifts, my Dad bought Mom fruit trees for the backyard. I recall the apples and pears always being too small and too picked over by birds, squirrels and insects to be of much use.

In time I’ve come to realize how ignorant I am of the basics of gardening. It seems there used to be a cultural expectation that you’d be able to plant a rudimentary green space and be able to talk about the health of your tomatoes.

We get further and further away from the agricultural roots we all used to have. Now, gardening seems primarily about mowing and edging the lawn. I notice some people get way into it, acquiring a huge amount of information and putting together yards the way Star Trek geeks learn Klingon.

But the general, practical knowledge that every adult used to have – I think that’s left us.

Arguing with the movie-rental rack
It’s probably a bad idea to try to pick out a comedy from Blockbuster when you’re in a bad mood. Last night, scanning the new releases, it occurred to me that 99 percent of what the entertainment industry offers is mind-dissolving garbage.

Yes, I already knew this and generally, I don’t care, but for some reason it became aggravating how these people -- screaming or looking surprised and hot – on the DVD box covers so often get off telling you how you should live your life.

Do we allow the members of any other occupational group get away with that? “Hi, I’m underworked, overpaid, and the proud owner of a disastrous social life that would destroy anyone making under $250,000 a year. Also, my work consists of either fluff or toxic fluff. So be like me.”

Actors should be the most humble group of people on earth. Anyway, we rented “Tropic Thunder,” which, being a vicious and hilarious satire on Hollywood, lightened my mood nicely.

Surrounded by haters

Meredith: Dan Fogelberg? Really?

Sandy: Yeah. "The leader of the band is tired. His eyes are growing old." You have a problem with that?

Meredith: Fogelberg? He’s just, you know, limp.

Sheesh, I have a problem picking the non-mockable side of the argument lately.

Waiting for a geek moment
Last night, after enjoying my Fogelberg moment (suckas), I plowed through the last three chapters of A Feast for Crows, by George R.R. Martin. It’s his fourth book in his Fire and Ice series, which I think is the greatest work in fantasy* since Lord of the Rings. (With a thanks to Tom for his recommendation.)

The end of the book features a chapter from the next in the series, and advertises a 2006 publishing date. So I go to the library web site to order a copy of A Dance With Dragons, and discover nada.

Figuring the book might be published under a different name, I head to Wikipedia, and discover that – dang it all – three years later, Martin is still writing the book.

Part of me is angry that he can’t get his act together and that he’s obviously been distracted by all the attention the series has generated and an attempt to get a TV show going on HBO.

On the other hand, I think back to the Lord of the Rings movies, and how Return of the King became a disorganized, overlong mess that missed the mark more often than not** because Peter Jackson obviously felt too much pressure to finish on time.

Martin has written his fans that the book will be published when they’re good and ready. So fine.

The thing is, he still has three novels to go, he’s over 60, and he doesn’t look like he’s in the greatest of shape. I can only hope he doesn’t pull a Robert Jordan on us.

*I highly recommend the books, but you should be warned that Martin often writes like a 12 year old with a disturbingly large collection of Soldier of Fortune and nudie mags.

**For example, they took that “We all bow to you” thing straight out of Mulan -- Mulan! – for God’s sakes.

Rock on. Softly

2009-07-19T01:32:00.002-06:00

So what does it mean if it's 2 a.m. on Saturday night, you can't sleep, and you find yourself digging up Dan Fogelberg hits on YouTube?

It means you have awesome taste in music, yo.

I loves me some BCS

2009-07-14T12:30:00.004-06:00

Update: As this post led to a spirited discussion on Facebook, I'm adding my final argument there to the bottom of this in an attempt to clarify my point.

I don't want to sit through another season of teeth-gnashing and urgent moral outrage, but I realize I have to, after reading this first shot in the annual mock battle. I think the primary reason we keep arguing about this is because sports columnists often can't come up with an original idea before deadline:

On top of today's Star-Telegram sports section:

Designations are at heart of what's wrong with the BCS
The current BCS system is flawed because it shapes the prejudices against non-automatic qualifiers

(No words scream "read me" like "designations" and "non-automatic qualifiers.")

So, as everyone prepares to dig out and dust off the "BCS UNFAIR!!!" talisman from their complaint box in the storage shed, I'd like to post my yearly "SO FREAKIN' WHAT!!!" statement and get it over and done with.

I spent three days trying to write this, and then realized I was far too bored with the subject to even gather up the motivation for a full-on essay. Here are the points I wanted to make, in a much shorter fashion:

College football's bowl system manages to pull off what no other sport does -- massive amounts of interest in the regular season and massive amounts of interest in the postseason. I hear people talking all the time about how great the NHL playoffs are. Yeah, only in contrast to the regular NHL season, which no one even bothers paying attention to.
Because every game in the college football season is critical, you end up with great stories like Appalachian State beating Michigan, which give great people like Jerry Moore a couple of weeks of celebrity that they otherwise wouldn't get. In a college playoff system, that game gets swept under the rug and people only talk about how Michigan's seeding will be affected.
The quality of any playoff system would be infinitely corruptible. I point to the current state of Texas high school football. We now have two tiers of playoffs -- for big schools and small schools -- at the six-man level. We're talking about schools that have 10 people in their senior class being put in a higher tier than schools with eight people in their senior class. We've opened up the playoffs so much that schools that go 2-8 get into the postseason all the time. It makes no freakin' sense, other than giving people the ability to say they made it to the playoffs.
People know that controversy is good for the game. I'll end with a bit from the Wall Street Journal, quoting the man who created the AP college football poll:

The point is that rankings were never about fairness or producing a clear-cut winner. They were about creating what fans need most: something to argue about. Before he died, the AP sports editor who created its famous poll, Alan Gould, explained it this way: "It was a case of thinking up ideas to develop interest and controversy between football Saturdays. . . . That's all I had in mind, something to keep the pot boiling. Sports then was living off controversy, opinion, whatever. This was just another exercise in hoopla."

From Facebook:

Here's the deal: Right now, we have a system that provides for a great, intense regular season and gives us plenty of post-season drama and great traditional bowl games. However, the argument is this system has to be destroyed because of this sense that we MUST have an undisputed national champion, and the ONLY WAY to do so is to have a playoff.

That makes the perfect the enemy of the good. First off, you suck away the interest from the regular season (I.E. basketball.) Second, it puts too much faith in the playoff process. Does the best overall team always win in a playoff? Of course not. It has far more to do with who's matched up with who -- basically, luck.

I think the system will eventually recognize a Utah, given time and continued success. And yeah, if I'm a guy from Tulane, I'm probably going to spend the rest of my life going on about "we could of been champs." But that's a lot better to say than, "Oh yeah, remember how Florida stomped us in the first round?" Which would be the final result, 99 out of 100 times.

Hamburger fight

2009-07-14T12:23:00.002-06:00

This was on the Today Show last week, and included the proprietor of my favorite restaurant on earth, Tom Perini of Perini Ranch Steakhouse.

The funny bit is that the first two cooks try to do something really exotic with their burgers, whereas Perini's idea of exotic is to add green chilis.

(Kind of like how he makes hominy, with chilis and cheese and bacon bits ... hgggghhgh slobber.)

Anyway, I'd eat any of the burgers, and it's a decent bit that moves quickly. And of course, Bruno pops up at the end.

Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy

I've never had a Perini burger. I don't know if I could bring myself to drive two hours, 30 minutes and then order a burger.

Funny restaurant names, ha ha.

2009-07-12T12:42:00.004-06:00

Here's a link to a site called Oddee that I'd never heard of but that seems to exist to post lists. I can't vouch for the overall quality, but this one on eateries was pretty good. I should warn the very easily offended that the majority of these names comes from Asian restaurants whose owners were probably unaware of the puns they were posting in neon. Also, No. 1 is a letdown.

So go ahead and click, if you have the velleity.

Old dog poem

2009-07-06T12:43:00.004-06:00

Last fall, I took a creative writing class at Tarrant County College -- I suppose because I wanted to have more challenges than just writing the reacting-to-reality stuff that I post here, and because in the back of my mind I'm never giving up on getting a graduate degree in English, regardless of the number of decades it'll take.

Our teacher recommended I turn in a few bits I wrote to the TCC literary mag. This included a couple of poems and a short story. Since the short story was much more important to me, it was, of course, not published.

Meanwhile, both of poems made it in, which is funny to me, considering the amount of scorn I place on modern popular poetry. (I.E., I don't get how any medium so dead can attract that much pretentiousness.)

Anyway, I didn't try to do anything fancy with what I wrote, just do something I feel strongly about and keep things in a concrete world.

Hence, in one poem I wrote about a dog and Hico. I feel slightly bashful about posting it here, but not bashful enough to not make a little movie out of it. Click on it if you wish.

A new, one-scene play entitled, "Stupid freakin' bookstore"

2009-07-02T08:01:00.009-06:00

Me: Plop 1,200-page precalculus tome on counter. Look expectantly at clerk.

Clerk: Looks at book. Scans bar code. "Hmmm ..."

Me: Monologue to audience. "@?&%&!$&!!"

Clerk: Scans bar code again. Looks at computer again. "They're coming out with a new edition in the fall. I can't buy this back."

Me: "So I get nothing on a book I had to pay full price* for. Y'all weren't selling used versions six weeks ago."

Clerk: "I'm sorry."

Me: Monologue to heaven. "But it's precalculus! Exactly what do they have to update? They haven't come up with anything new since the 1800s! I lose everything because they want to put in more pictures of Yoda? Why!"

Sigh.

Walking off, mumbling. "This "A" was dearly bought."

*$189

How the West was writ'

2009-06-30T16:06:00.001-06:00

Imagine the odd dramatic license and melodrama of Ivanhoe, combine it with the overwrought emotional focus of The Scarlet Letter, and set the whole thing in late 19th century Utah. Actually, just imagine an old silent movie that takes itself very, very seriously.

I just finished reading Riders of the Purple Sage, by Zane Grey. To say that it was a "hoot" would probably be all the description just about anyone needs, because no one is ever going to read it.

But I've been curious about Grey. Zane Grey wrote westerns between 1910 and 1930, and during that time was one of the most popular and richest authors in America. If you don't read westerns, then you probably haven't heard of him. But he's considered one of the two founders of the genre.

So when I stumbled upon Sage -- considered his most important work -- at the library, I checked it out, read it, and spent a lot of time trying not to snigger.

Some of the book's more amusing touches:

Chapter 6 begins with, perhaps for the first time in history, "Meantime, at the ranch, ..."
Poor attempts at writing dialects, such as "I been nicked, but I'm some wet an' the hoss's has been throwin' lather, so all this ain't blood."
Of course, it's better that the bad English is answered with dialogue like: "Oh, you fierce-blooded, savage youth! Can't I teach you forbearance, mercy?"
A woman is able to pass for a man simply by wearing a Lone Ranger mask.
The story has an odd streak of anti-Mormonism. They're treated like some kind of exotic tribe out of New Guinea.

Still, after I put the book down I had to admit it was a pretty good story -- fun characters, good villains, not completely far-fetched.

Everything has to be translated a bit through the filter of its time, and Grey wrote sexist melodrama that belied a simple pride in being able to read and write when so many people of the time could not.

I often think that people who look back at our time will be laughing at us -- the most spoiled and pampered generation ever -- and the gritty grit-like grittiness that permeates most of our creative work.

Capitalism is awesome (burp)

2009-06-27T08:53:00.008-06:00

The Star-Telegram bidness section had a story today on the town's Rahr Brewery, which is selling its beer faster than it can be made. They are literally taking beer directly from the production line to the trucks to ship out -- with no time in storage.

It's a good thing. I first heard about Rahr when the company opened. The staff consisted of the owner and a group of volunteers who liked beer. I remember the first golden lager I had. It was the first time I've done a double take with a beer, as in:

Drink.
Look at beer.
"My, that's tasty."
Drink.

Since then I've been recommending the beer to friends, and spreading the word along with six packs on the few occasions when I drink beer, which happens rarely if ever nowadays.

They just added more brewing capacity, and if you're in Texas, you'll probably be able to get some soon. That reminds me that I need to tour their brewery sometime.

Anyway, their success reminds me of this documentary Reason put out a few months back on the history of American brewing and the development of microbreweries. Don't worry, it's not political.

GuMo

2009-06-24T12:35:00.011-06:00

(Guadalupe Mountains National Park)

I think that I've figured out the golden rule for backpacking, at least for me:
Overambitious and out of shape does not make for a happy camper.
I kept it in mind while planning and hiking last weekend, and things went about as well or better on a trip as they ever have for me. That doesn't give me a lot of stories to tell (I.E., no near heat stroke, no hiding in a bathroom to avoid the cold), but I can say it went well and we did what we set out to do. That's a rare enough thing.

Plus, Todd took some good pictures of the experience, so here's what happened, in brief.

What happened:
After grousing here that I was getting restless to take a trip, college buddy Todd, who sends me stuff to link about all the time, said he'd be willing to try this hiking thing.

Two weeks later -- last Friday -- we set off for Van Horn. It's a nice little town in Far West Texas. Apparently John Madden stops there often for the Mexican food. We got our hotel room and settled in.

About 10 p.m., we heard people banging on the roof of the building. I went outside to find out that the noise was actually from a fireworks display. It went on for 45 minutes. I still have no idea what people were celebrating.

The next morning, after a bacon-free "hot" breakfast at the hotel, we drove the remaining hour to Guadalupe Mountains National Park.

I've taken three trips there before. It's a great place to get yourself beat up, badly, by nature. It's basically a mountain range surrounded by desert. It's also home to the highest peak in Texas, which is not saying much, but still.

The peak stands at the end of a four-mile trail. Easy eh? Neh. The trail isn't four straight miles. It's four miles of up. You climb up one hill by going in switchbacks up its face. Once on top, you begin climbing another hill, with more switchbacks.

This is a lot of up.

I should add that there are a lot of rocks.

And to explain the next few pictures: We climbed a bit, checked out the scenery, rested a lot, and otherwise wore out various parts of our feet. Todd had a GPS that gave us our altitude along the way. I'm not a fan of tech-stuff on the trail, but it was kinda cool to hear that, after the last bit, we had climbed another 50 feet up.

It took us longer than we thought. At one point, sunset was about 45 minutes away and we still had half a mile to go. Finally ...

To those who are curious, the marker on top is a memorial to those brave people who deliver your mail by plane.

We signed the log the Park Service keeps up there, and Todd recorded the moment with his GPS. (The altitude was off a bit, by the way. Needed to be re-zeroed or something.)

Standing on Guadalupe Peak at sunset.

We made it down before it got dark. I tried out my new backpacking shower. Mainly, it didn't get me wet enough, and then it didn't rinse off the soap. I was also attempting to wash in a mountain breeze. I'm still glad I did, though. Climbing all day will give you an unholy stink.

The weather was perfect. The wind didn't blow much, and it never got hot. Resting in my sleeping bag, I looked up and saw around 20 shooting stars and a few satellites drifting by. And had only one skunk visit that I know of.

The peak, next morning, before we took off.

People think the desert is ugly. Feel free to leave more of it for me.

At the Fort Worth ISD job fair

2009-06-15T15:50:00.005-06:00

Standing in the lobby at the Will Rogers Center in the Fort Worth Stockyards, I killed a few minutes by counting the listed jobs and the number of people applying for them.

Number of Math teaching positions: About 30
Number of applicants in the lobby: About 500, give or take a couple hundred

I realized that with no experience and with so many other people applying, I'd have to transform into the Sham Wow guy to make any sort of impression. And I don't do the Sham Wow guy.

(Actually, I have never seen the Sham Wow commercial, but I can make a fairly strong guess as to what it's like.)

Ah well, nothing to do now but wait and hope. And maybe expand the area of prospective job locations. Maybe they have spots in Kansas. I get the feeling I'd like Kansas. At least the non-Kansas City parts.

Speaking of commercials
The digital change has come and gone, leaving us in the lurch. We have no cable, satellite, and we didn't bother buying a box.

Why? We love the Netflix, but just don't care about TV enough to keep up with it. Also, laziness.

The only thing the house TV is getting now is a broadcast of extremely earnest man telling us not to worry, it'll be OK. We can get this box thing and get our TMZ back, plus we'll have all these new channels.

Does anyone doubt the new channels will put the "r" on the end of "lame?"

Lights on, lights off
It's been an exhausting few days.

The electricity went off. Then on. Then off. Then on. Then off. Then I screamed and demanded to leave the house. (About an hour after which, it came on and stayed.)

We blew through way too much money for eating out, transportation and ice. On the other hand, we have a really nice new cooler, and that should come in handy.

Tooth brush
This picture was harder to set up than I thought, and I'm still not happy with it. What's with the giant door knob?

Still, good enough for a Monday after a disaster.

A post in honor of Oncor energy providers

2009-06-13T11:30:00.005-06:00

You people -- bite me.
The lights and A/C are out?
Let's visit in-laws.

This haiku inspired by Todd. Who has lower back pain.

My lower back hurts
been this way for three days now
hoping it stops soon.

Hico trip observations/RomCom notes

2009-06-09T23:41:00.005-06:00

I’m posting this late or I won’t get around to posting it at all.

I spent a day in Hico over the weekend – did some farmwork, slept in a screened-in porch, and took the dog for a midnight walk under a full moon. I would have had to parachute in beer to make it better.

Some things I noticed on the trip:

The mosquitos this year are big, proud and aggressive. Seriously, these mosquitos deserve to be a little league team’s mascot. They looked like trophies, flattened against my windshield as they were.
The closest a civilian can get to driving a tank is driving a tractor. You get to plow over rough terrain and knock over just about anything you want. (Or mow over it, whatever.) I realize that some will disagree, saying that the monster truck is also similar. But the thing about driving the monster truck, as opposed to the tractor or tank, is that monster truck driving requires a certain amount of stupidity. Oh, I’m sure it’s fun, but you can’t get away from the celebration of the "Yee-haw Yee-haw (banjo interlude) h-yuck" that is monster truck society. Tank and tractor driving – that’s all practicality. Good old American practicality.
The wildflowers this year are better than ever. We have entire fields covered in yellows, reds, whites and purples. And I couldn’t help but think that we created this environmental wonderland by poisoning hundreds of mesquite trees, with gallons of kerosene per tree, to clear the aforementioned fields.

Male driven romance
Thanks to some movie selections recently made by my wife, we just watched "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" and the not-nearly-as-good "Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist."

I was thinking about how both plots followed the formula of

Girlfriend dumps boyfriend for new guy.
Ex-boyfriend finds another, more awesome, girl.
Old girlfriend goes freakin’ nuts and tries to win back ex-boyfriend.
After some hemming and hawing, boy gives old girlfriend back of hand.
Ecstatic happiness.

This is the only subgenre of the RomCom that I think is aimed at men. God knows how many of us have had this fantasy while we were licking our wounds after our most recent dumping, listening to Pearl Jam’s Black over and over and over.

But it’s a fantasy. I know so because it’s never happened to me nor any other guy that I know. And I know like 10 or 15 guys.

Really, the closest I ever came to living this was getting drunken phone calls at 3 a.m. from ex-girlfriends who wanted to tell me about how I was always so sweet ... and not like their new guy ... who was totally flirting with that ho Cindy at the club but that doesn’t matter because he's probably gay.

Obligatory Sam shots

2009-06-04T16:51:00.003-06:00

We realized recently that, while Sam has enough toys to bury himself in, he doesn't have any furniture outside of the crib. We discussed buying him a chair.

Meredith got on the case, and we just got a collection of four cushions and a denim cover for only $137. Hooray.

(Mainly, I kept thinking, "What happened to the blowup furniture I grew up with? How bad a choking hazard was it?)

Sam on his new perch ...

Which also makes a pretty good place for Lego storage.

Death for salesmen and other notes

2009-06-03T15:11:00.006-06:00

Recently the door-to-door sales dudes in our neighborhood have all been using a distinctive knock: Tap tap-tap-tap, Tap.

Yes, I know that’s useless. (But fun to write.) It should be familiar to anyone who remembers the "Shave and a Haircut" bit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

Gotta say, I love the fact that the salesmen are knocking this way. First off, I know right away that under no circumstances am I going to bother opening the door to talk to a complete stranger about home security or my electric service provider. It’s like they’re telling me it’s OK to not acknowledge their existence. Beautiful.

Second, one day I will go to the door, throw it open and yell, "It’s two bits, jackass!" and slam it in the face of whatever sweaty guy happens to be there. Serves ‘em right. Door to door salesmen are becoming the new telemarketers. We get visited once a day, on average. I’m supposed to listen to an uninvited pitch for two minutes while the cold air leaks out and the bugs fly in? No, I say.

No.

The collect phone call of the wild
I realized this week that I haven’t been backpacking in more than a year, and a general feeling of antsyness is beginning to creep over me. I’d figure out something, but most of my camping buddies are pregnant, dealing with newborns or too busy.

It’s bad when your start going through your camping equipment, putting aside time to clean it. It’s really bad when you put on your backpack and look in the mirror to remember how it felt. I dunno. I’ve considered taking a solo trip before. It might be time.

　
Job search...
Is still going nowhere. Would like to update y’all with something, but I’ve received no word on anything from anybody. I’d say it was frustrating, but we passed frustrating a few weeks back, when the swine flu closed down my last chance to attend a major job fair.

I started a pre-calculus course at Tarrant County College last week, and I’m enjoying it. But at this point it feels like window dressing on a no-trafficked street. Things aren’t all that bad – I have a couple of years to find a job, and I could use the upcoming school year to take some more classes and get closer to qualifying for grad school.

On the other hand, things are bad enough that I now consider any school district within a two-hour drive to be a prospect. Maybe they have spots in Ardmore ...

Not a bad late thing
I’ve watched a few parts of a few episodes of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. I don’t know if I’m in the minority here, but I like the guy. He’s just different, in an enthusiastic and positive way. Everyone else basically does snark all the time. I don’t think Jimmy Kimmel has said anything non-ironic since he left Ben Stein.

Reasons why I'm officially bored with Facebook

2009-05-26T10:11:00.004-06:00

It started as a great way to check in on people I hadn't heard from in years and a more convenient way to keep up with the people I've always kept up with. These are still the primary reasons why I'm not closing my account.

The problem is that the task of finding the info I'm looking for requires me to wade through an ever-expanding mound of sludge that shouldn't exist even in e-space. Specifically, I'm talking about:

The people who think that the status update is for chronicling any variation of their mood, no matter how inconsequential, i.e., "Charles Krauthammer It's Tuesday, and I still have a case of the Moandays!!! :()" Gee, thanks, that's great to know.
The people who leave meaningless clues as to what they are doing in an attempt to be clever, i.e., "David Broder is catching the gravy wave."
How it's high school all over again. You can share that you've been promoted to vice president following your spectacular contribution in the fight against cancer, only to be met with a profound silence from 281 "friends" who have nothing to say. Meanwhile, the hot, rich girl from the dorm gets 87 comments after letting the world know about her dislike of "Moandays."
Friends who give NASCAR updates. "Jonah Goldberg has finished his second bag of pork rinds in celebration of Junior Earnhardt's awesome left turn."
The fact that 90 percent of my page this morning has been taken over by other people's quiz results.
The fact that 90 percent of those quizzes are of the "How well do you know ______?" variety, featuring people I've never heard of.
How it encourages joining of the meaningless kind. I recall seeing about 50 different "Make Facebook go back to the old design" groups start up after Facebook came out with a new design. The problem was that the new design was better. People just didn't want to spend the five minutes necessary to get used to it. It was easier to complain.
Which leads to my problem about the predominance of the group "We will not pay for Facebook, eveh." This kind of attitude is the reason newspapers are dying. Honestly, I'd be happy to fork over $1 a month if it meant Facebook could come up with some kind of kick-ass program that could block people from posting quiz results. But we know the attitude of the Internet. As soon as they charge a fee -- no matter how reasonable -- everyone will flee to the latest cheap version of Facebook. Or, God forbid, go back to MySpace.
It's become cliche. Every newspaper and blog out there has put together some kind of wacky piece featuring a theoretical group of world leaders gossiping on Facebook. These invariably feature Kim Jong-Il -- a man who's starved thousands of his people and now has the bomb -- posting on his dislike of "Moandays! :p"

The pink boxer shorts dude

2009-05-25T10:32:00.003-06:00

The Star-Telegram features him, Army Spc. Zachery Boyd, today. Some cool things about him, at least from my point of view:

He went to a high school in my residential district.

The shirt he's wearing is from Wooley's Frozen Custard, a shop within walking distance from our house. We're about to head there for our Memorial Day treat.

He was planning on going to Texas Tech ROTC but decided to enlist first.

Let's hope he continues on to Texas Tech. God knows he'd fit right in.

At rest

2009-05-23T06:57:00.003-06:00

You know, it used to make sense when my son was about 20 inches long and chose to sleep against the headboard -- he wanted to feel like he was sleeping against something. Now I'm beginning to wonder if he's ever going to try sleeping straight.

Personal countdown list ...

2009-05-19T15:29:00.003-06:00

10 minutes before Sam finishes his nap.

1 hour, 47 minutes before Meredith makes her daily call home.

1 week, 1 day before I start taking precalculus.

3 months before my third wedding anniversary. I think. I guess I should check that.

3 months, 7 days before the next school year starts, whether or not I have a job.

108 days before the start of Texas Tech’s football season. (Had to use days here because that’s how it’s listed at DoubleTNation.com.)

4 months, 7 days before Sam’s second birthday.

7 months before we drive to Lubbock for Christmas. I haven’t been home for the holidays in four years.

11 months before the upcoming school year is over, and I’m fully certified as a teacher. Unless I’m not.

2 years, 3 months, 7 days before Sam’s fourth birthday – the age when he’ll be ready for his first father-son trip to Hico.

2 years, 7 months before I’m 40. Hmmmm... some kind of party is in order. I totally blew off birthday number 30.

42 years, 7 months before I’m 80, when I’ll probably be too old to make the trip to Mars. Here’s hoping we have that off the ground before then. Or at least the moon. I mean, sheesh, we used to talk like this stuff would happen any day now.

Fort Worth Botanical Garden

2009-05-17T20:21:00.006-06:00

I've got a lot of things I want to get to this week, so I'll start off with the subject most in-demand from my parents and wife: A photo-intense blog on Sam.

Last week was a long one. It started on Sunday with a bath for the boy, and a flea jumped off of him right as I was putting Sam in the tub.

"Oh crap," I wondered.

Sure enough, the evil cat turned out to be infested, and we had to call in the exterminator. Meredith's doctor advised that she not be in the house for a couple of days after the spraying, so, considering our options, we ended up in a run-down Budget Suites hotel room. The carpet was blue, we think.

Strangely, one day in a cheap hotel room can be kind of boring, so we decided to make an excursion to the botanical gardens on Wednesday morning. And I'll just go mainly with pictures after this. (As a warning, we do have plenty.)

This was really the first time Sam's had a chance to run wild. He was so tired we had to put him to bed an hour early.

Meredith attempts to teach Sam facial expressions, a tough job for someone dealing with the men of my family.

The log was occupied by two kids about Sam's age. He walked up and started jabbering with one of them. First time I'd seen that.

And we took this a few weeks ago, but I liked it, so I just thought I'd put it here.

She's got names like the Octomom's got kids

2009-05-07T08:59:00.002-06:00

The funniest part of the "Woman arrested at Dirk Nowitzki's house" story was this:

Her past aliases included Chrystal Ann Taylor, Crystal Ann Taylor, Debra Johnson, Shana Mancini, Krista Santiago, Crystal Ann Santiago, Cristal Westerhaus and Crista A. Westerhays, booking records show, according to Channel 5.

Notice the verbiage - Her past aliases included ...

Because they're not sure just how many names she used. She must have picked a name the way some women choose shoes for the evening.

Meanwhile, it can't be reassuring to Dirk to realize that he has the same taste in woman as John Daly.

Lubbock Monterey loses football coach

2009-04-30T08:27:00.002-06:00

And here's something that made me say "Dadburn."

In a bit of a surprise — but not really considering he interviewed for the job five years ago — James Morton is leaving as head coach of Monterey to take over the same position at Midland Lee.

The post is from the lovable George Watson at the Avalanche-Journal.

I'll be honest. I haven't been to a Monterey football game since I was playing and Plainview nailed us to the wall. My entire contribution to the team over two seasons was kicking off and going 0-1 on field goal attempts. I don't look back on such experiences with a great deal of sentimentality. If those are my glory days, I'm having a sad, sad life.

Morton was not coaching at MHS when I was there. But he's been doing a good job the past 10 years, and it was always nice to hear when we stomped Lubbock High again and beat Coronado more often than not. I liked the knowledge that someone was keeping the home fires burning. Hope the next coach keeps it going.

Strange times

2009-04-30T07:48:00.002-06:00

Fort Worth ISD canceled school all the way through May 8. Keller ISD did not, and I saw some Keller middle school students going to class today with a sense of ominous trepidation. Though, it is middle school, ominous trepidation is part of everyday life.

Fort Worth's closure made me blink. My first thought was that this had to be the funnest epidemic for teenagers ever.

I realize it's serious, and that the flu, pandemic or not, is annually one of the top killers out there. It's still hard to get my head around the fact that a flu is causing this amount of discombobulation.

Keep your hands clean.

A little off-season fun

2009-04-28T14:26:00.002-06:00

I missed this as it was happening yesterday:

The commotion began when Leach, who has a history of needling A&M, told SportsDay that he was happy for (Stephen) McGee, taken in the fourth round by the Cowboys.
"The Dallas Cowboys like him more than his coaches at A&M did," Leach said Sunday.
The remark left McGee stunned and Sherman puzzled.

Besides "stunned" and "puzzled", I also understand there was "bristling" and "unctiousness" involved.

As the Tech fan in me giggles, I'm thinking there are a couple of things going on here. Leach was angry his quarterback didn't get drafted and Leach used that anger to take a pot shot at A&M.

But it's a pot shot dead on target. As in, "You have a quarterback of McGee's ability, and the best you can do is build an offense around a fat running back who reminds me of William Perry in all his post-retirement glory?"

I don't think it was a pot shot at any one person so much as a system, and most Aggies themselves haven't been too happy with that system lately, either. It's a perfect example of Leach -- a freak with a sometimes tenuous grasp on reality who still has the ability to throw a masterful jab.

So a little rivarly fun here. I feel the need to play video game football for a bit. Excuse me.

A boy's got to learn his manners

2009-04-22T17:06:00.003-06:00

Sharing an apple.

Notes: Hello Canada

2009-04-20T12:22:00.002-06:00

I've had a spike in hits lately. (I define "spike" as any day I get more than 20.)

The unusual thing about it, though, is that for the first time since I've had this blog, the majority of hits aren't coming from Texas. They're not even coming from the U.S.

I got 40 hits from Canada on Saturday. Twenty from Winnipegg. Why? Because the "James Snipes" hoax has apparently gone north of the border.

For those who don't know what I'm talking about, here's my post from last year. And here's a much better explanation at Snopes.

I'd put "eh" somewhere in this post, but I'm sure Canadians are as sick of that as Texans are of people using "y'all" artificially.

And, should any Canadians stumble this far, I'd appreciate it if you could explain exactly why, and if, "canuck" is a slur. I had an angry journalism prof tell me as much back in college; I never understood why.

Pictures: More to come
I've fallen way off on posting pictures of Sam in the last few weeks. More will be forthcoming. I've especially felt the need after laughing hysterically at Dave's post regarding a recent picture-taking incident with his kid.

Will work for chalk
It's odd that after all these years of hearing about how we were about to run out of teachers, I finally get in the game of looking at about the same time those jobs dry up. Anyway, if there's a school near you, check if they have a help-wanted sign on the door. I'd appreciate it.

Three things I liked at the Fort Worth Art Festival

2009-04-20T11:04:00.004-06:00

Me and Meredith [sic], who haven't been much for public festivals lately, loaded Sam up in our new used car on Sunday and headed out to the Fort Worth Main Street Art Festival.

We didn't stay long, but had a decently good time. Right now, I'm hacked at myself for not thinking to bring a camera. They had a three-piece cowboy band that Sam started clapping with, and I could have used a picture of that.

As far as the merchandise -- mostly not bad. I have this theory, that most people who are art novices have only seen the biggest, best masterpieces in art history. Therefore, when I've visited art festivals in the past, I've kept wondering exactly why nothing stacks up that "David" statue I remember seeing on TV. And that painting's stark, but it ain't "American Gothic," you know.

So, this year, I went with relaxed expectations and enjoyed the offerings a bit more.

Things fell into these categories:

Things I wanted now (see below).
Things I want for my mantuary someday. (This mainly included some dark western art, angry dragon and horny toad statues, and some of the more clever junk sculpture.)
Things I found amusing and/or cute. (More junk sculpture.)
Things where I wondered, "What kind of sick, sick man would want this above his fireplace, next to the picture of mama?"
No thanks, I'd rather watch my own paint dry.

My favorite stuff:
Books from Mind's Eye Journals. I've wanted something like this for a long time, even though I don't really see myself writing the more mundane stuff that I generally put in my own cheap journal from WalMart. If you're willing to spring $70 for one of these babies, you'd better be writing something like "the wide expanse of prairie gave us no coverage as better than 250 Comanches topped the ridge and charged."

I squealed like a schoolgirl when I saw this: Artist Chris Smith's rendition of a Texas map with battles from the state's past marked and dated. He's done it in an old-timey style and it looks fantastic. I noticed that he even had the Battle of Yellowhouse Canyon, which is important to me because I happened to stumble on the Wikipedia entry while doing random searches of Lubbock stuff. I didn't spend much time at the booth because I knew I'd be begging to take something home if I did.

Which I couldn't, because we had already bought Sam this picture, called "The Audition," from artist John Sumner. It's not something that I'd necessarily buy if we didn't have a kid, but it goes well with the general art theme of Sam's room, which is "Dogs are cool."

Belated birthday to Dad

2009-04-15T12:57:00.003-06:00

This image from a Google search:

Kind of unique, it's from a baseball card that never went into production, because Dad was traded from New York to Baltimore before the printing run.

Anyway, happy birthday to my Dad, who has played the family's paterfamilius to perfection.

Trip to Hico (Delayed)

2009-04-12T14:00:00.003-06:00

The search for the stone

Finally.

About two months ago, my mom and dad came by for a visit. In a "neat" kind of moment, I showed my dad the Hico farm on google earth.

I go to the site all the time, but while my Dad was here I wanted to ask him just exactly where is the piece of land we own that I've never seen.

I've walked around the farm enough that I take it as a point of pride that I'm rarely surpised by what I find. Still, there was one place I'd never been.

The highway that joins Hico to Fairy cuts off a sliver of our land from the rest of the farm. I'd heard about it, but no one was really specific as to where it was and dad was pretty indifferent about making it over there.

So, when I had the chance I quized him about it, and he also told me one thing that I'd heard a long time ago but had forgotten. The area is also the location of the original 1869 Segrist homestead, and my Grandpa, who was kind of monument crazy, set up a stone at the site decades ago.

I now had my plan for my next hike -- find the stone and map out the area as best as I could.

Then, many things happened. (See most recent posts.)

Finally, last Friday my wife was off of work and nothing else was going on. I loaded the dog in the new car (heh) along with some clothes and took off.

First off -- yes, there is a town in Texas called Fairy. It's more a hamlet, though, in a nice little spot between a gap in a couple of hills.

Anyway, I got to the farm, got out, put my clothes up, put on my serious jeans, serious hiking boots and set out.

The day was perfect -- cool and sunny -- for a hike through the underbrush. We walked down the road to the farm gate and walked across the highway. The first thing I noticed was that this property of ours was much bigger than I had thought. I was climbing up a slope and couldn't see a fence.

Then I realized that I was apparently trespassing on someone else's land, and made my way back to the fence before I got shot by someone defending their rights.

There's not much of anything on this small sliver that we own. A lot of cactus, cedar and rock, mainly. I made my way south, looking, then looking some more. Until ...

Aha!

The marker was sitting in a surprisingly open area of land, considering all of the brush and cactus I'd spent the last half-hour crawling through.

Note that Ginger, bottom, is showing an interest in history.

I don't know about 1869. Growing up I'd heard 1868. But I imagine several things could have led to the confusion. I suppose the correct date is written somewhere, in some county's hall of records.

There is virtually nothing left that tells you that humans lived here. Plenty of old tin cans are around, flattened by rust and gravity. I also saw several stones stacked on top of each other, usually collapsing in the shape of a circle. And that's about it.

It's hard to see in the picture, but this looked to me like an old gate. The heavier post needed the added support of some struts and rock at the base.

After that I mapped out the place in my head the best I could. Later, I was talking to my sister Susan, who happened to stop by the farm that night, about the place. She told me she could never understand why our great-great grandfather picked the spot. It's barren, doesn't really have a good view and doesn't look very green.

But, thinking about it, I kind of guessed a few reasons why:

The place was about 200 yards from the original Hico village. Far enough for privacy and to keep your animals separated, close enough to cry for help if outlaws came by.
You'd want to build your house on rock. You don't dig a foundation for a log cabin, so you don't want it sinking in the mud when it rains.
And it's a dry spot, but a creek is about 100 yards away, so the mosquitos wouldn't be too bad and getting water wouldn't be too much of a hassle for someone willing to live in log cabin.

I now have a picture in my head of a hard-scrabble kind of place, animals wondering around and in the house, worn footpaths serving as the primary roads. A tough life, but they were tough people.

I eventually left the spot, made my way back to the house, went to town for tacos and got back in time for the season finale of "Friday Night Lights."

The irony was not lost on me.

Ode to the wagon

2009-04-09T21:42:00.003-06:00

A great decade-long ride with my 99 Saturn Wagon has come to an end.

I've decided to mark the moment with a poem.

By the way, if the jumping annoys you, just push pause and wait for about a minute.

Looks like home. Tastes and feels as well.

2009-04-09T17:43:00.003-06:00

I was checking the National Weather Service web site for the forecast today, and noticed this icon for the first time in memory:

Underneath it noted that Fort Worth was in for some blowing dust. I guess it has been dry this year. Still, it's like a little part of home has come to visit.

I bet they even took the picture in Lubbock.

Your own movie

2009-04-06T21:14:00.003-06:00

This is interesting -- a web site that can turn your writing into little movies.

Here's a dramatic representation of Homer's all-important love letter to Marge from the Simpsons.

Eh. The voice simulator screws up the timing. Not a lot of inflection either.

Here's a dramatic representation of a recent conversation between me and my wife that I originally posted here:

I'm talking with an English accent because I pushed the wrong button. My wife is talking with an English accent because she's read so much Jane Austen she sometimes slips into one unconsciously.

Great food, did miss

2009-04-06T09:41:00.003-06:00

I read this story in today's Star-Telegram with a mounting sense of frustration.

The Chef Point Cafe, hidden behind the gas pumps and beneath the Conoco sign, debuts tonight on the wildly popular Food Network program Guy’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.

The title of the episode? Funky Joints.

To celebrate with their fiercely loyal customers, husband/wife owners Paula Merrell and Franson Nwaeze are hauling in a 72-inch television, throwing up a hasty satellite connection and somehow cramming 75 people into their convenience store to eat and watch the show, which couldn’t have found a more improbably successful dive anywhere in the country.

I have driven by this place many times, as it's on the way to the cheap bread store. I have scoffed at the little awning over the door and the bars on the windows. I figured they have hamburgers the way that Allsups has burritos.*

Nope. Apparently the chef there is credited with putting together one of the most daring menus around, while still serving as one of the best greasy spoon diners in the state.

I've been passing over the best hamburger-and-lobster-bisque joint in the D/FW Metroplex, and spending my rare restaurant money at Taco Bell. With my wife taking a slice in her paycheck, we now have even less to spend on the luxury of prepared food. I might have to exchange my pennies for cash. A good cheeseburger is a sacred thing.

* Yes, all West Texas males wax romantic over the Allsup burrito, but this is because it keeps for a week at room temperature, even under the car seat, as Pat Green noted in song. As food, it doesn't even qualify as a burrito.

5:30 a.m., UTA Library

2009-04-06T04:27:00.002-06:00

A paper to write regarding the discovery of rules behind regular and irregular polyhedra, and 2 hours, 20 minutes to write it in. Meanwhile, I can't get TV show "Kings" off my mind. I can't decide if I should waste another hour on what I already know won't be worth the time.

***

I've discovered another signpost on my way to old age: I now prefer getting up early to staying up late. Staying up late means you want one more round, more time to flirt or you just want to see what's going to happen. Getting up early means you got stuff to do and not enough time to do it. On the other hand, the food at 6 a.m. is far better for than your average 2 a.m. fare.

***

I could feel like a loser for getting here at 5:30 a.m. But what about this guy two desks over? A college kid who's in the library before I am, apparently so he can watch South Park on the internet.

***

I heard a rumor last night that the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal would soon file for bankruptcy. I couldn't confirm this anywhere, but I did notice that the failure of it's parent company, Morris Communications, seems imminent. Sheesh. You hear about the fall of the newspaper industry going back to your college days. Then it happens to your own paper, and it's still a shock.

***

OK. To work.

Teaching fair

2009-04-03T13:59:00.004-06:00

Going into my first teacher job fair, I attempted to adopt the attitude of the failed Cassanova.

A buddy of mine in college said he had an easy time talking to girls who were out of his league. He just assumed that the girl was out of his league, that nothing was ever gonna happen. He therefore removed all the pressure from any conversation and flirting with said girl. I think he even got a couple of dates this way.

Hence, I tried to get past my reluctance to sell myself, thinking all jobs were filled and I was way underqualified.

I felt like I had a few decent conversations.

Some observations:

The fair happened at UNT's old super pit. My alma mater is hardly familiar to me nowadays, things have changed so much.
I almost gave a resume to Glen Rose (only 25 miles from Hico), but I knew there was no way to work it out -- at least for now.
The lady from Fort Worth ISD said I was the second ex-journalist she had talked to.
They should have a time limit on refreshment restrictions. If the breakfast food is still out after three hours, take down the dang "school district representatives only" sign. I could have used one of those 80 bagels that you were about to throw away.
I don't know if the dude from Hurst-Euless-Bedford was brushing me off, but two eyerolls is a bit rude.

Visual representation of terrible twos onset

2009-04-01T20:25:00.005-06:00

Begin with this:

Add this:

Wait 10 minutes, and you have this:

So this is what people were talking about. Sam, at 18 months, now only wants to do things he can't do. And when he learns he can't do them, it's crying and stomping and yelling time.

Just saying, I'm thinking of gluing the dinner table chairs to the floor. (Sam's been moving them around and climbing them. This was annoying but cute, until my Mom recalled when I was doing the same thing, and would climb on top of the stove and set the burners to high.)

He was, on occasion, a very good dog

2009-03-31T10:30:00.005-06:00

I was among of group of animal adopters at Carrollton's no-kill animal shelter, holding my right hand in the air like an idiot and ready to make a "promise."

Shelter Lady: Repeat after me. "I promise to keep my animal indoors when I am not present and to never take him outside without a leash."
Me: ... I have a fenced-in backyard?

The volunteer looked at me. Operation Kindness is known to be a demon with it's inside-only standards. A few years back Steve Blow of the Morning News wrote a scathing column after a man complained he was denied a puppy just because he planned to keep it outside.

On the other hand, I was adopting a dog named "Freckles," who had been brought in as one in a litter of puppies. He was now almost full grown, having spent the first nine months of his life in a shelter cage, after the rest of the litter had been snatched up early. He was not an attractive adolescent.

The volunteer ignored me and plowed on ...

Volunteer: "I promise to provide him regular veterinary care ..."
Me: ... and I'm going to let him run around on a farm?

I got the dog -- immediately renamed Jimbo -- because I'd been raised with two canines. I thought my other one, Ginger, could use the company, what with me being away at work all the time. Big mistake. The first time they met, they looked at each other, put their ears back, and started peeing on my floor at the same time.

I still have a couple of scars from the eight or nine times I had to keep them from killing each other. He turned into a tall, skinny dog, able to puff his hair up enough to scare the bejesus out of just about anybody. My family didn't like him. My wife worried about him.

He never stopped chewing. He'd go through an "indestructable" toy in a couple of weeks. Every house I kept him in has some little reminder -- a chewed-up floorboard, a hole in the shag carpet -- that he was there. He was a nervous dog. Any time I had him indoors, he would follow me from room to room, so quietly that I wouldn't know he was there untilI turned around and tripped over him.

He was an athlete, the only dog I've had who could reliably catch a Frisbee. He was so fast that no matter how far I threw a ball, he would catch it while it was still bouncing. Fetch was a life-and-death thing for him.

He didn't have much of a personality. He was awkward. He was either shy or guarded with strangers, and would start avidly licking their faces once he felt safe enough. He seemed happiest just to lie down beside (or on) me while I was watching a movie and drift off to sleep.

He was sick for the last two-and-a-half weeks. I kept thinking that I'd have him euthanized, but he kept acting like he wanted to stay around. He would always perk up and wag his tail when I checked on him. Two days ago, he spent his walk sniffing at bushes and garbage and marking territory, like he was getting back to his old ways. But he couldn't get past this illness, whatever it was. I found him in the garage last night. He had crawled into a corner and lied down, finally giving up.

Looking back, it was a mistake to get him, but it's a mistake I'm glad I made. I was going through some of his pictures today, after I dropped him off at the vet's. He seemed to be happy. He was well fed, comfortable. He had plenty of time to run around, and got to spend a lot of time exploring things on his own. He had 13 years. All in all, a decent life for a dog. I'll miss him.

What do dogs get sick as?

2009-03-27T10:33:00.002-06:00

Jimbo, my faithful and utterly destructive dog friend of the last dozen years or so, has been seriously ill* for the last couple of weeks. I've been attempting to nurse him back to health, with some success, but we're not over the hump yet, and it may still be getting close to his time.

Him, and much more obviously my Grandad passing away a few weeks ago, has had me feeling kind of low, and I haven't been able to focus much on the writing or keeping the "30 posts in 30 days pledge." Sometimes the writing helps, but I've found I don't write much when in a general and districted state of bhumitude.

So, just thought I'd let y'all know.

*He just stopped eating a couple of Sundays ago. I thought he'd get over it, but he hadn't four days later, at which point I took him to the vet. She took $400 from me, showed me some graphs and some neat little x-rays, and otherwise told me she hadn't the slightest.

I had him on drugs for a few days, but they just seemed to make him more sick, so I cut them off. Since then, I've been feeding him by hand, encouraging him to drink water, and taking him on slow short walks every day. He's improved, but not nearly enough. He still looks like a walking skeleton with black hair and drool. But at least he's here.

Diet update

2009-03-24T11:50:00.002-06:00

Since I've received a lot of comments and questions on the diet, I think I should just pass along an update, instead of answering in comments.

The good part:

I'm losing a pound a day (8 of them, so far).
It's nice to feel my body having an easier time with basic functions.
My wife says I look better.
I'm no longer eating my family out of house and home -- the total cost of my average meal nowadays is about $1.

The bad part:

Life has become a sad, depressing exercise with little meaning and no hope.

Man, I miss me some sugar. The granular kind you use to sweeten things.

I realize that eventually, the weight loss will hit a wall, at which time I'll have to add exercise. I still have a long way to go.

As to what the diet consists of, here it is in more detail than my first post:

There has been a fairly severe cutback in caloric intake, but it's mainly the bad stuff. I'm eating more vegetables than before.
I've decided that eating high quality meat rarely is much better than eating low quality meat all the time.
I've cut WAY back on the carbs, allowing myself a cup of cereal for breakfast and a lunchtime sandwich on alternating days.
The only occasional snack I allow myself is a cup of tea, or maybe, if I really need it, a cup of coffee. Plain.

I've received plenty of suggestions to not go hungry and just pig out on vegetables, but I'm wary. If I eat so many vegetables that I get sick of them, what exactly am I supposed to eat then? Besides, in some ways, being hungry feels good. Being hungry means that work is being done, fat is getting burned. Being hungry tells me I'm losing weight.

The worst part isn't the hunger, it's just the irritability. I think I'm getting a handle on that, but I'd like to go ahead and continue apologising to my wife.

Either New Zealand or Australia

2009-03-19T14:24:00.001-06:00

Saw this on The Corner and had to share:

I imagine it's only a matter of time before someone in Texas tries this with longhorns. And things go horribly, horribly wrong.

It was a zoo at the zoo. Haha!

2009-03-19T10:20:00.002-06:00

My wife suggested that we do a spring breaky thing this weekend by going to the Fort Worth Zoo. Yesterday made her doubt the feasibility.

From the Star-Telegram:

FORT WORTH — Springlike weather, spring-break timing and half-price tickets lured a record crowd to the Fort Worth Zoo on Wednesday, which also meant lines of traffic around Forest Park worthy of a professional sporting event.
By 5 p.m., about 23,000 tickets had been sold, a zoo spokeswoman said. The final tally won’t be available until today. That topped the single-day attendance record of 17,274 set last Good Friday as well as last year’s spring-break Wednesday attendance of 16,076.

I doubt that gorilla watching has ever caused this much traffic. Meredith got a call from a friend warning her to "stay the hell off of 35." And the zoo is not even on an intersection with I-35.

So, sadly, we'll have to find some other spring break activity to do. Which, if you include being able to bring your 18-month-old, doesn't amount to a whole lot of options.

The Diet: And so it begins.

2009-03-18T09:57:00.002-06:00

I realized yesterday where the stress from not having a job lined up and starting a new career went. Mainly, it went into several dozen three-donut breakfasts, two-sandwich lunches and "Fire sale, take it all!" dinners I've had over the last year.

I know this because as soon as I cut off the food supply yesterday, the stress bounced up and started poking me in the eye like Curly in the three stooges. I'm hoping this is like breaking off an addiction -- the first day's the worst, then things get better. Thirty-six pounds to go.

Two things I hate about dieting. First, I really love food. I've lived my life surrounded by good cooks, and I've spent a good part of my adulthood trying to learn how to cook. And now that I can, it's boiled chicken and veggies time.

Second, it feels like my brain doesn't function good when I cut back on the fat. I don't know why this is, but it's definitely there. I recall my wife saying she felt like an idiot the entire time she was breast feeding. I think it's the same thing here. No food translates into bad mind thoughts. We're like Elaine on Seinfeld when she gave up sex.

Anyway, here's the official diet plan:

Eat healthy stuff.
Don't eat much of it.

I'm hopeful that'll get me through. All meals will be planned in advance, no deviations allowed.

Feel the love. Feel the love.

It's old, but I hadn't seen it

2009-03-16T23:10:00.001-06:00

A highlight reel of all the best funny cat videos out there.

I just hope he didn't break the ceiling fan.

Relatives with interesting jobs

2009-03-16T10:44:00.003-06:00

My cousin, Lance McIlvain, is the second one to jump in on the action, wearing the light blue.

He's the son of Aunt Melindy, who also sent the pictures in the last post.

Say what you will, but I bet he's never spent a day staring at a computer hourglass, hoping that when things finally boot up, the word document isn't FUBAR.

Sam shots

2009-03-16T10:29:00.003-06:00

These are from a brunch we attended before my Grandad's funeral. The pictures were sent to me by my Aunt Melinda.

Sam with his Grandma.

Sam with my Grandma and my niece, Kacy.

You can't really tell from these pictures, but our hosts had a house that was a complete work of art. Glass walls staring out over Lake Joe Pool. Stacked rock walls. Vaulted ceilings. And a four-story tower with a lounge on top.

I guess that it's a sign that I now own a home and have seen what my Dad has gone through with the big house in Hico, but I couldn't stop walking through the place, cringing at the idea of maintenance costs.

Back to the treadmill

2009-03-15T22:29:00.002-06:00

So, I started dressing for the funeral on Thursday and discovered that all of my good clothes had mysteriously shrunk since the last time I wore them.

By this time, it was just another in a mounting signs that my fatness has REALLY become a problem and it's time to get serious.

Learning to cook is great. The problem is that I wanted to learn how to cook my Mom's meatloaf, chicken fried steak, cookies, etc. And I've therefore cooked myself out of my clothes and into a situation where tying my shoe causes me to breathe heavily.

Really, it just gets annoying -- having to deal with the extra weight and the sudden loss of the ability to reach areas of yourself that you've always been able to reach.

And so, I've started on the treadmill. I had some chicken fried steaks in the freezer that I had to make, and the dieting and the keeping track of every little thing that I eat starts after I finish those.

My wife doesn't believe me either.

The service

2009-03-15T22:16:00.004-06:00

All of my Grandad’s grandchildren got a chance to talk (shortly) about the man at his funeral on Thursday.

This is kind of summation of what I said, along with some addendums of things I wanted to say but forgot.

"You think of the typical Grandfather and you think of a man who wears suspenders, makes fun of uptight people, and otherwise uses a lot of phrases like, ‘By cracky.’
This is not my Grandad.
I always felt like I needed to stand up a little straighter anytime I was around him. I knew I didn’t want to be on his bad side, I just had a hard time figuring out exactly where his good side was.
It wasn’t until I was older and I began to see his humor and his intellect. And what an intellect. A degree in chemistry. A rank of major. He read War and Peace in a week. [My brother’s comment but I liked it.]
Looking back, I never really noticed his generosity – his gruffness tended to cover some things. But he always managed to pay for Grandma’s shopping trips for me, he somehow sent checks for $25 or $50 for all of my birthdays, even when he was decades beyond his working years.
And I can’t remember the number of times he sprung for a steak dinner for the entire family – all four of his daughters, all of their husbands and children and the children’s children.
He was the kind of man whose approval you sought because you knew it meant something.
My wife had a difficult time at the hospital when my son was born 18 months ago. She was worn out. Otherwise I would have driven by to see Grandma and Grandad on the way home. I was so proud of my kid, I couldn’t wait to show him off to my Grandad."

I had never witnessed a military honor guard at a funeral before. It was impressive and touching. Taps was played, the flag was folded and given to my grandmother, the soldier gave the "thank you" speech and it was the one moment I had to blink away tears.

It was a cold and rainy day. You notice these things at a funeral, I think, because of the old superstitious notions surrounding ceremonies -- What is God saying?

A cold day that brought much needed rain to a developing spring. My Grandad wasn’t exactly a warm man. But he was a good, tough man. The world needed and needs people like him to keep it in line. It’ll be worse off without him.

In mourning

2009-03-10T22:31:00.002-06:00

Obviously, the usual humor wouldn't be appropriate at this point, but I'd like to report to those who have asked that the family is doing OK.

Really, whenever someone is 94, whenever he's had a peaceful stay at the hospice, whenever his family has had a chance to say goodbye, and whenever the final decision was his to make -- passing on doesn't hit like a collision with a brick wall.

What I'm left with, at this point, is just a blank spot in my conscious, that itches and can't be scratched anymore. I didn't visit or talk to my Grandad enough, like everyone else and their grandparents, but I'm realizing how much comfort and strength I drew from the simple knowledge that he, and the part of my heritage he represents, was there, in real life. Memories will be a poor substitute.

William Harold Garvin, RIP

2009-03-09T14:25:00.006-06:00

I'll post a tribute eventually. Here's the obit I put together on my grandfather.

William Harold Garvin of Arlington died early Monday, March 9, 2009, at Arlington Memorial Hospital.

Harold Garvin was born Dec. 28, 1914, in Dustin, Okla., the son of William David Garvin and Margaret Harris Garvin.

He graduated valedictorian of Weleetka High School and attended Georgia Tech University, where he earned a Bachelor’s degree in chemical engineering in 1939.

Garvin was a member of the ROTC at Georgia Tech, and entered the Army with the rank of second lieutenant upon his graduation in 1938. The next year he married Theda-V Sanders. They would stay together for 70 years, until his death Monday.

He began his military service in the Signal Corps and was stationed at Camp Bowie in Brownwood on Pearl Harbor Day.

In the 2nd Army Division, 53rd Battalion, he served in North Africa, Italy and France before leaving the military with the rank of major at the end of World War II, having earned the EAME Theatre Ribbon with seven bronze service stars.

He began his civilian career by moving to Dallas and working as a petroleum engineer at Mobil Oil. Later, he opened Garvin’s Hardware and Paint Company at the old A. Harris Shopping Center in Oak Cliff. After selling the business, he sold Gold Bond Trading Stamps and was named as the company’s top U.S. salesman in 1963.

He finished his career as a purchasing agent with Dairy Queen Stores Inc., and later owned and operated three Dairy Queen franchises. He retired in 1987.

He was a longtime member of Glen Oaks United Methodist Church, later joining Duncanville UMC so he could attend services with his family. He was an avid fisherman and Boy Scout volunteer. He spent his retirement traveling with his wife and doting on his grandchildren and great grandchildren.

He spent much of his spare time solving crosswords, assembling puzzles and growing vegetables in his garden. His family will remember his strong work ethic and his sense of humor.

Watchmen's drawer

2009-03-08T22:57:00.006-06:00

I have no plans to see "Watchmen" at the multiplex. It's definitely a Netflix kind of experience for me, albeit one where I'm not scanning the catalog in hopes that it pops up.

To me, the most interesting thing going on here is the guy who drew the comic in the first place.

This guy. Alan Moore.

Yeah. You look at him and you think deranged hermit. And yet.

He can't stop himself from noting that he's put a curse on the movie and that he hates Hollywood and the media. And yet he keeps on showing up for interviews and finding ways to get his quotes in the paper.

He kind of reminds me of Kurt Cobain, always muttering against the corporate media, yet constantly calling MTV to play his videos more often.

I find it kind of fascinating, when people choose an image of disfunction in order to make their business function better. And if you don't believe me, check the hair. Do you have any idea how much time he has to spend every day getting that hair into some kind of functional state? He must have a drawerful of combs and high-pressure water sprayers just for his beard. I bet his bathroom has five different work stations.

The truly disturbed would just chop the thing off and be done with it.

Anyway, I have never been gaga for comic books. The promotional blitz and fanboy reaction for "Watchmen" had me puzzling over the possible reasons why. Comic book fans tend to be aggressive about their love for the graphic novel. Lord knows I've heard a lot about art, theme, style and impact. I've also heard the word "awesome" too many times to count.

I tend to be able to at least appreciate and enjoy some aspects of other people's passions, but comic books? Eh.

Why I'm not into comics. No, it's fine if you are. It's just not my bag. Don't hate.
When I was 10 and first gave the serious comic books a look, I remembered being off put by the violence. And most of the stories just followed a color-by-numbers plot:

Show Peter Parker at home relaxing with scantily clad wife.
Show villain killing somebody while giving a speech that smells like B.S. even to an eight year old.
Alert Peter Parker, who shows his concern with an "OH NO!" expression.
Change into suit.
Zip around. Somehow cause civilians to question your worth/good intentions.
Find villain.
Hear another speech from villain that even politicians would find meaningless.
Kill/chase off villain.
Parker appears back at home, looking somewhat fatigued. The end.

Today, what bugs me about the comics is just the non-sequitor to reality they require us to make. They introduce you to a tough, grity, urban setting with drug dealers, prostitutes, mobsters, etc. OK, I can believe that there are some pretty mean places out there.

But then, you're expected to believe that some buff dude in a skintight, flamboyantly colored outfit would show up and beat the crap out of everybody. That just doesn't follow for me.

My wife, who is somehow more into comics than I am, tells me "Watchmen" is a great story and deserves the recognition, and that "a great story is a great story, no matter the format." This made me think, for some reason, of Huckleberry Finn told through '50s beat poetry.

Curse the thought, but maybe my wife isn't right on this one.

Back in the saddle

2009-03-07T22:10:00.003-07:00

Yep, I'm home, after driving my ole Saturn 99 wagon for two whole hours with no breakdowns and no new strange noises.

It's like I have my wings back. I felt like I was one of those characters with a broken wing in a cartoon about birds. The bird looks longingly at the sky as the others fly high above him. Sometimes he has to hitch a ride with his lady bird. Sometimes he and the lady bird get into an argument over just whose damn time it is to fill up the gas. And finally, the healing is over.

I'm lucky in two regards here. One, my father-in-law is a retired military mechanic, and, two, he's incredibly charitable with his time.

The whole screwed up story: After my car broke down, I took it to a shop, where they diagnosed a cracked engine block, and had pretty much written the car off as salvage. My father-in-law, hearing my wife discuss the symptons over the phone, calls that a bunch of hooey. Two weeks later, my car is back, working better than before the problems started. (His diagnosis: Something wrong with the head gasket, and replace the radiator.)

There is only one payment for such a man. And that would be cookies. And about $300 and change for the materials and such.

And another cut! And another cut! And ...

2009-03-06T20:26:00.002-07:00

I'm beginning to compare my wife to a soldier -- albeit a soldier who becomes physically ill at the sight of a roach and who really likes to talk about emotions.

But mainly because I can see the mental wear and tear she's had to go through, as the Star-Telegram made its fourth(?) round of cuts in the last two years on Thursday.

Mainly, I see the comparison with the combat veteran who sees his friends get shot, but keeps going on, feeling guilty because he survived.

OK, the metaphor's a stretch, but I can't really imagine working in an environment where the staff keeps getting pared down and the survivors just have to keep on taking on more work. And half the people leaving are in "worst possible time for this to happen" phase in their life. It's not fun to work for a newspaper right now.

I admire her a great deal for being able to hold it together, put me through teacher certification, and spend baby time with the boy. I know I'd have said to hell with all that a long time ago and retreated to the farm, middle finger angrily in the air.

Announcing: 30 posts in 30 days.

2009-03-06T09:52:00.002-07:00

Because I couldn't think of a more inclusive unit of time.

I've been slacking off big time here lately, and while I could throw plenty of excuses at you, I realized yesterday that I'm supposed to come here because of my excuses -- as therapy. Life's been busy throwing a lot at the Segrist (Fort Worth Branch) lately, and part of the reason for this blog to exist is for my own naval-gazing purposes.

Therefore, starting today, I'll be posting something for the next 30 days straight. There will be pictures of Sam. Videos of Sam. References to Hico. Ruminations on Texas Tech athletics, derision for Aggie football, western literature, and various idle thoughts on fantasy sagas, the middle ages and all that rot.

Also -- dogs.

Starting today. (This post don't count.) Please join me.

A few more notes

2009-02-25T09:46:00.004-07:00

Teaching test
I put this up on Facebook, and then remembered that some of you have managed to avoid becoming ensnarled in that black hole of sentimentality and unnecessary updates.*

Anyway, I got the results last week from TExEs test, and managed to pass. The TExES test is a competency exam for wannabe teachers. It isn't the end of the road for becoming a certified teacher, but it is an important step, showing that you have a clue about the things you'll be teaching.

It's not easy, by the way. The questions are very extensive and the answers to choose from are often barely discernible. It was a long, focused, all-day exam and felt like having a baby. And I feel like I have the authority to make that statement.

*"I'm going shoe shopping. I think I'll share that with 68 people I haven't seen in years. Perhaps they'll wish me luck."

On the TV
Just a couple of recommendations. One, I went through the first season of "Flight of the Conchords," last week. It's often comedy gold. It's a different kind of funny than what I've gotten used to seeing. Mainly, it's not really all that hostile. I think the success of Seinfeld turned just about every comedy offering over the past decade into a contest of insult throwing. This Conchords just seems gentler.

I posted a video of their's a while back, here's another one, "Tape of Love." Ignore the first seconds of black.

I'll just note that the songs aren't as strong at the end of the season as they were at the beginning. Joke songs must be hard. I imagine that's why Wierd Al generally waits a decade between albums.

Also: Friday Night Lights. Best Season Ever.

Hope for the Aggies
This man has hope in spades. And by "hope," I mean "apparent head trauma."

The main funny is in the first couple of minutes. But he does a good job of keeping it real all the way through.

Notes and Sam shots

2009-02-24T15:27:00.006-07:00

Just a few things:
I surprised myself by watching a good portion of the Oscars on Sunday. This is mainly because I was reading a blog that was making fun of it, and had to see what they were talking about. I'd also like to point out here that I watched none of the movies nominated, and have no plans to watch any of the movies nominated for best picture. This is because I don't really care about any of them. Just wanted you to know.

Hico trippin
I've gotten a few questions (OK, one from Tom) as to whether or not I've made it to Hico and done my little Indiana Jones expedition for the lost marker of the original Segrist home site. Short answer: Nope. As we have only one car right now, I can't take it for an overnight trip and leave the wife and boy without transportation. It's also the nice car, which means I can't take the dogs. And not being able to take the dogs to Hico seems kind of pointless. Hopefully, (very hopefully, I must admit) we'll get my car back this week and I'll be able to make it Hico before the end of March.

If the car refuses to work, I dunno.

Midieval trivia
The popular concept of the "village tavern" is wrong, at least up to around the 1500s. Dark Age folks living in rural villages typically got their drink on at one anothers' homes. Families, mostly the women, would brew their own batches. Once the brewing process was over, they'd open their homes to their neighbors.

Though the atmosphere was not, "Dude! Party at Aelfric's." Rather, the family sold their brew and would often count on it as a major source of income. It was also a highly regulated affair. "Brew tasters" were supposed to sample the ale before it could be sold, and the court records are full of fines for those accused of selling "weak ale." (Ale making was by far the most penalized activity in midieval courts.)

Sam climbs, scares parents
So the boy has become kind of an expert on getting into a chair at the table. He acts like he's part of the conversation and enjoys being out of the baby chair. Meredith's set up some activity things for him to do once he's climbed up there. Still, kind of nerve wracking not seeing your boy strapped in.

This is also a note to all parents: Your parents will probably want to buy your kid various $80 toys that they saw in some fancy schmancy catalog. While nice, you should tell your parents that your child's favorite toy will most likely be a stick. Or, in Sam's case, a stick and beat up rain guage that he found somewhere.

For a while Sam couldn't see a bird without flapping his arms. Now he waits until he hears a plane.

Wahoo!

2009-02-20T09:33:00.003-07:00

LUBBOCK, Texas -- Texas Tech and coach Mike Leach agreed Thursday on a new contract after months of contentious negotiations.
Leach signed the contract shortly after he and Kent Hance, the university's chancellor, met for about two hours Thursday afternoon to hammer out an agreement. Hance said the negotiating part lasted only about 15 minutes.

I don't care that it was hard. I'm just happy it's over.

Because "Texoma" sounds better than "Oklexas"

2009-02-17T10:53:00.007-07:00

I followed a link yesterday to a speech by man named Dmitri Orlov, who's written a book called "Reinventing Collapse." Orlov believes the United States is on the verge of implosion, much like the Soviet Union in the 1990s, and he writes about how America can implode "smarter, not harder."

My reactions:

It's not going to happen.
If it does happen, I say Texas and Oklahoma combine to make their own country. We already have a lake named after the new nation.

Yes, I realize a great deal of antipathy flows both ways over the Red River. But let's look at the other options:

Louisiana is like the crazy uncle you invite over for parties, but you don't let him sleep on the couch.
Arkansas is like the crazy uncle you have four restraining orders against.
Kansas
And Texans who get annoyed by Oklahomans simply haven't met enough New Mexicans.

Besides, I've never hated Oklahoma. I think most of the disdain for the Sooners is Austin-based, and most Oklahomans focus their hatred on Austin.

The fact of the matter is that Texans and Oklahomans have a lot more things in common than not, and our economies and culture would mesh pretty well. Texas has the Gulf Ports, Oklahoma has Tulsa. We've both got excellent universities, good natural resources, music, and barbecue.

When I pitched the idea to my wife, we had the following conversation:

Mer: I don't want Oklahoma. I want Colorado.
Me: Pah! Bunch of lazy, Elway-lovin', mountain boys. Besides, it's geographically impossible.
Mer: No it isn't. We just mount an expedition and ...
Me: That's fine, but you still end up with at least part of Oklahoma.
Mer: Fine! I'll take Oklahoma if it means we can have Colorado.

I think the British created Iraq in the same way.

Nitpicking "No Country for Old Men"

2009-02-16T22:20:00.009-07:00

So why do this review now? Because the film has been out a couple of years and everyone who is going to see it has done so.

I'll just break it down into several West Texas nits and a few points:

First off, it was a great movie. Finding problems with it is just a form of entertainment.
The opening speech by Tommie Lee Jones refers to how his Daddy was proud that he was sheriff of Terrell County at the same time his Daddy was sheriff in Plano. Problem: Terrell County and Plano are eight or nine northeastern states away from each other. I don't really see the political connections working out there. And Plano isn't even a county. Now, I realized while I was writing the last sentence that Jones could have referred to LLano County. In which case, no problem.
Jones goes on to talk about the sheriff "up in" Comanche County. That should have been "over in." Small thing, but if you're just pulling these names off a map, how hard is it to actually look at the map?
The Coen bros. show a great deal of love for the West Texas landscape, and let the wind provide the primary soundtrack. I like that.
I don't buy Josh Brolin's hair cut. Or really, for that matter, his character. His actions make for a good story, only they don't make any sense. There's no evidence of any internal struggle happening when he makes the decision to take the money and endanger his family and every motel clerk within a 500-mile radius.
The women working the clerk jobs look like the women working the clerk jobs in those far West Texas towns -- polyster flower shirts, obesity.
I have honestly seen maybe two men in my life dressed in a gray suit with a cowboy hat and boots. How did this get to be our uniform?
My favorite line comes from Tommie Lee Jones: "My Daddy said, 'Once you stop hearing "sir" and "ma'am", the rest is soon to foller.'" I think the line was meant to show the sheriff's naivete and his inability to deal with a world that seems bent on cruelty. I personally think he's got something there.
I hope that Barry Corbin gets his own movie someday.
I heard a lot of complaints about the ending, so I wasn't disappointed by it. If you see the movie as a story about the Sheriff and the killer and their missions, it makes sense.
I'm definitely old. I watched the movie wondering if the graphic violence was really necessary. I just recently saw "The Third Man," an Orson Welles black and white movie. They were able to effectively convey the horror of an injured infant simply by showing a man looking into a crib, without showing you what was inside.

Speaking of the perfect actress

2009-02-16T16:26:00.002-07:00

Fiddler on the Roof's been on my mind since reading about it a couple of days ago.

The sound isn't great and he's out of costume, but Zero Mostel's performance blasts through those limitations. At least if you like "Fiddler." And how the hell could you not like "Fiddler?"

I need to Netflix that ASAP.

Interesting weekend

2009-02-16T09:10:00.004-07:00

At least as the word "interesting" relates to the old curse, "May you live in interesting times."

Eh, things weren't that bad. I was just miserable because of the contrast with the fun I was going to have.

Here's my weekend, in a nutshell:

On Friday, I had the car loaded up with the dogs and various outdoor gear and headed out to Hico. There were a couple of causes for concern -- the car's radiator had been acting a bit strange and I had a minor head cold. But none of these things seemed that serious.

About five miles south on I-35W, my car's temperature guage had hit the red zone. I pulled over, cooled things down for about 10 minutes, started again. No dice. The temperature guage immediately jumped to the red zone. I drove into a truck stop and forlornly watched the tractor trailers coming and going, knowing my weekend had just become much more complicated.

I nursed my car back home, found a shop that installed radiators, and dropped the car off.

You ever have that feeling where you're expecting the Phone Call of Bad Car News? About an hour after taking the car to shop, my cell rang. I cursed, picked it up. The mechanic said the engine block had cracked.

I know nothing about cars*. Growing up, my Dad taught me the techniques of throwing a baseball, shooting a gun, grazing cattle, and the importance of matching the right actress with the right 1950s musical. We didn't cover cars. I'd kinda like to get into car repair and restoration as a hobby, but I have about 200 other things I'd like to get into as a hobby. How do you pick one or the other? Maybe my interest in making goat cheese will pan out sooner.

Anyway. I know nothing about cars. I do know, however, that "cracked engine block" is to a car as "pancreatic cancer" is to a person and "Let's see other people" is to a relationship.

In the meantime, the head cold launched and landed somewhere just short of a flu. I picked up the car from the shop, drove slowly home and spent the night, and most of the next day, in bed.

I was drugged up and missing a rare chance to be in Hico, tromping around and building a fire outside.

One silver lining: Meredith's Dad is an old Navy mechanic, and after telling me the engine block might not be cracked, agreed to tow the old girl to his place and attempt to repair it himself. (His theory is that the head gasket is blown. I nodded like I understood, then asked for a definition of "head gasket." And "blown.") So we have hope. I like my old Saturn wagon. It's the perfect car for me -- room for the dogs and backpacks, and it's old enough to where I don't really have to take care of it.

Meanwhile, for the time being, me and the wife will be living 1950s-style. As far as only having one car. Not so much the lack of feminism.

*One comedian had this line: Now, I don't know nothing about cars. At all. Once this lady told me her car wouldn't start, and I said, "Maybe someone is trying to kill you."

Wal-Mart observations

2009-02-12T10:37:00.004-07:00

You can never find bok choi when you're looking for it.

Is anyone else bugged by seeing kids riding around in shopping carts? I'm not talking wee ones, I'm talking kids who look like they could be doing algebra homework. In my memory, as soon as we were too big for the cart seat, we walked. I realize that maybe it's a safety issue and you want your kids where you can see them, but that means keeping your eyes open, not infantilizing your pre-teen.

My mom expected us to walk and to stay with her, to the point where she once got tired of waiting up for me and drove off, making me walk home. True story.

Ever notice how big a difference the cashier makes? You either get the generally happy with life cashier, or the I'm-so-miserable-that-the-path-of-life-has-led-me-to-a-job-at-Wal-Mart cashier. I had one of the latter today, and I really could have done without the self-pitying sigh while handling my chicken, thankyouverymuch.