A Whole Lotta Nuttin'

2002-08-04T07:47:00.000-05:00

Now residing at http://owk.blogon.com/.

Please update your links

2002-08-03T16:07:00.000-05:00

Atanarjuat

We saw this movie last weekend and I still haven't stopped thinking about it. I was really pulled into the story and lived it along with the characters. I know I will keep this one with me for a long time. Try the link for more about it: The Fast Runner. Even Miss D. stayed awake and didn't talk once.

2002-08-01T18:01:00.000-05:00

Re-writing Geography

Long before she became Bob the Corgi, Susan was a brand new nurse at Lennox Hill Hospital in NYC and had a cool apartment on the Upper East Side. I visited one weekend during a hurricane. We took in an off off off way off Broadway play in the Village and did several other things that hip young sophisticates were want to do in those days. Oblivious to the weather we got soaked to the bone and looked like two drown rats before we decided to catch a cab back to Germantown.

We looked like shit.

We were also not ready to call it a day so we ducked into a neighborhood bar near Susan’s apartment. The place was deserted because of the hurricane. It was us, the bartender and a hustler who chose to practice his trade on us, the only two patrons in the place. Talk about chutzpah! He parked his sorry-ass next to us and started admiring my college ring. Fer Gawd’s sake it was a nothing ring with a rose zircon stone he mistook for a Ruby.

He told us he hadn’t seen a ruby that big since he was in England, France.

“England, France?” says I

“I meant France, England.” says he.

BtC and I almost pissed ourselves at this point. We were amused for a bit while he tried every excuse in the book to get one of us alone in the back room to look at the rare art on the walls. We literally told him to go in the back room first and start without us. And the schmuck DID! At that point we bolted.

What brought this to mind was a conversation I had with a young woman from Brooklyn who was on her way to visit her grandmother in Kileen Texas. She sat window. I sat aisle with the seat between us vacant on the way from Pittsburgh to Houston.

She began by asking me how far it was from Houston to New Mexico. As an "Easterner" I still give distances in time rather than miles. She understood this but still looked incredulous and asked about bus service to New Mexico. Finally I pulled out the map in the airline magazine and showed her that the distance from Houston to New Mexico was like the distance from Brooklyn to Chicago.

“Oh,” says she and begins to ask more questions about bus service.

Still trying to be helpful, I asked where in New Mexico did she want to go? Albuquerque? Santa Fe? Taos? Carlsbad?

“Oh, no,” said she, “I want to go to Cancun or Acapulco.”

For some reason that reminded me of BtC and our adventure during the Hurricane.

2002-07-29T18:44:00.000-05:00

Fun in New Orleans

Even though I left the office early, the adventure began as soon as we hit
the freeway. There were two accidents between me and Hobby Airport turning
a normal 20 minute drive into an hour and a half of frustration. Glenn and
Chris were a half hour ahead of us and phoned us updates on the situation.

By the time we checked-in our flight was ready to board. All the flights
were over booked and Southwest Airlines needed volunteers to take a later
flight. We gladly volunteered. Our reward was a refund of our Houston to
New Orleans leg of the trip plus $200.00 each. The 4th of July weekend was suddenly half price!

The Adventure begins

This little maneuver put us into our Hotel around 11:00 pm. It was a
profitable day but a long day and we were tired. I must mention at this point that the Essence Convention/Concerts were happening this weekend and all hotels were booked solid if not overbooked just like the airlines. When we checked in we were
offered rooms 309 and 310. Glenn chose 310 because that is Chris's
birthday. Isn't that precious? We were then ushered to two of the smallest
matchbox sized rooms I had ever seen (Think inside cabin on the lowest deck
of a ship built before 1980). Eek! We literally could not pass each other or open a
drawer without blocking the other's way.

There was a window in each room but no view. The windows faced a brick wall only five feet away. The top of our window was spray painted a
sickly yellow. You can see photos of Hotel Le Cirque on their web site. It
looks nice in a sleek Danish Modern kind of way with clean lines and muted
colors. After visiting the real thing, I can see the artfulness of the
camera angles. It is actually an updated turn-of-the-century YMCA. Imagine. The only
intrusive things that stood out were the pastel pea soup colored chair and
mirror frame. I can only describe them as Exorcist Lite.

Both rooms were tiny but we were in better shape than Chris and Glenn. The
air conditioner vent in their room leaked onto the bed leaving a cold puddle that
soaked through the bedspread, blankets, sheets AND the mattress. Totally unacceptable. Glenn called the front desk that dispatched security to check out our complaint. Chris and
Glenn were moved to room 210, the room directly below 310. It was an exact
duplicate of the room above right down to the puddle in the middle of the
mattress. They were then moved to room 214.

Room 214 was bigger. In fact, there was an actual bathtub in the bathroom
instead of just a shower. Things were looking brighter until the front desk
called. Room 214 had been specifically reserved for another guest. Chris and Glenn would have to move one
more time before settling in for the night. This time they were moved to a
"handicapped" room.

None of us slept particularly well that night and we were ready to get out of that hotel and start our
day at the crack of dawn. Dick and I had no trouble pulling ourselves
together, but Chris was having some trouble with the handicapped shower. It
seems the water pressure was extremely high and there was a shower massage
in this bathroom. When Chris got all soaped up, the shower head slipped out
of his grip, flew outside the shower curtain and flailed all over the bathroom soaking everything: ceiling,
walls, floor, towels, including Glenn who was putting the finishing touches
on her make-up. It all seems like a bad dream.

After breakfast and brief trip to the casino, we went back to the hotel
where Glenn had a little tete-a-tete with the Day Manager, Aquanetta, who provided us with normal sized rooms adjacent to each other in a newer part of the hotel that
had windows with an actual view of the statue of Robert E. Lee in the
Circular Park in front of the hotel. Things were looking up.

2002-07-25T06:35:00.000-05:00

ToC and Owk go to a Bazaar

I was in Wonderful Wilkes-Barre for my dad’s 90th last weekend. He is doing great after being hit by a car last December. He is back home, back at work and back at his old haunts dispensing nonagenarian wisdom swiftly and fearlessly.

Anne (dad’s 90+ year old sister): Why won’t you go to your cousin’s funeral with me?
Dad: He’s dead. The ballgame’s over.

Dad insisted he wanted no fuss and chastised me for flying up to mark the occasion. However, his actions belied his words. He stayed home on Saturday to visit with me. The original plan for Saturday night was for The Other Cheek and Bob the Corgi to scoop me up and carry me off to dinner somewhere and then veg out on Tina’s deck with some Southern Comfort Old Fashioneds. BtC bowed out. Some lame excuse about a career and a life.

I tried to talk ToC into taking the party to New Jersey (Yes, Susan, I am not above barging in on old friends – remember knocking Ed out of bed last Thanksgiving?) but ToC was afraid of how you might retaliate. I guess I like to live more dangerously.

We decided to go for Victory Pig Pizza and hit the Holy Rosary Bazaar in Buttonwood. Pig Pizza is a must for me on any trip back east along with potato pancakes and clams. Nirvana. An added bonus this trip was Tina’s advanced driving skills and big mouth. She rivals Cathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes.

The streets were jammed with parked cars for 5 blocks around the Bazaar. We took a chance and pulled into the overcrowded lot next to the church. We were immediately in competition with a frizzy-haired woman for any available spot. Frizzy-haired woman tipped the Teenaged “Event Staff” to run interference for her. She was having trouble pulling into a spot that was too narrow. We grabbed a recently vacated spot in the next row.

Teenager: You can’t park there.
Tina: I just did.
Teenager: Back out of there.
Tina: I don’t wanna.
Teenager: Please back out of there.
Tina: No! I don’t wanna.

This went on until another car left and the Teenager said nevermind and threw himself in front of the opened space until the frizzy haired lady could pull in.

We had fun listening to the Polka Music, eating ice cream and potato pancakes and watching people spend their money on the Wheel of Fortune games.

BtC missed it. Too bad.

2002-07-03T13:20:00.000-05:00

Adventures with Miss Dixie

I still feel like I am riding a kayak down the rapids while juggling chainsaws, but I had to stop and pay homage to Miss Dixie who has fallen out of her kayak and the chain saws are clunking her in the head as she gasps for air.

We did our bit Saturday evening by marching in the Gay Pride Parade with Bering Omega. It had poured all day Saturday, but by parade time the roadways were dry. We had fun. After the parade we were walking back to our car. Suddenly the Irascible One was not behind me anymore. I stopped to say, "Hello" to some friends and they told me Miss D. had already raced by.

When I caught up to her she was mud up to her hip on her left side. Apparently, as she was pushing her way upstream through the crowd, she didn't see the open sewer. She went down like a safe. The crowd drew her back to the surface and she blustered the rest of the way to the car where I caught up to her. Boy did she stink. Peee-U!

Today we are leaving for New Orleans at 5:30pm. Miss D was running around taking care of all the last minute little details like packing. I saw her at lunchtime. She was going to have a fried egg sandwich for lunch. Unfortunately, I forgot to tell her that I hard-boiled all the eggs the day before. She didn't figure it out until she tried breaking the egg into the frying pan with the sizzling butter. It was sad.

She decided to have an apple instead. This is the sad part folks. When she bit into the apple, she broke a front tooth off her partial and swallowed it before she realized something was wrong. This is sooooo sad. We planned on visiting many wonderful restaurants in New Orleans. This will definitely put a crimp in her dining experience. I wonder what kind of table we will get when she flashes the Maitre d' her brand new Trailer Trash smile?

Have a Happy Fourth of July.

2002-05-31T04:14:00.000-05:00

...and now some good news

We marked this week’s Hump Day Happy Hour at “Club No Minors”. This is the separate dark bar area of El Patio Mexican Restaurant on Westheimer where the ritas have been blamed for people dancing on their chairs (see 04/25/2002 review in link). What a test for the Irascible One’s mettle. She passed. Fueled with only a giant bowl of chili con queso and coca cola, Miss D was quite happy clapping along with the Mariachi’s at this decadent little club.

The food was great and the Mariachi’s were most entertaining (we had several toasts with them). Ya gotta love it when the musicians drink along with you. Plus it was Creole’s birthday. This is the first time I ever saw a restaurant provide a frozen margarita with a candle in it for the celebrant. I think you are supposed to chug the rita and eat the candle, but ever the lady, Creole blew out the candle and removed it before slopping it down. (See BtC, you weren’t here, but we were celebrating on your birthday.)

2002-05-29T04:28:00.000-05:00

First the Bad News…

Miss Dixie could have died last week. I am quite serious. She mixed up a cocktail of pills and liquor that was nothing less than an invitation for the Grim Reaper to come calling.

We headed out for Cuban food on our usual Wednesday Hump Day Happy Hour. Nothing unusual about that. The Irascible One downed a couple of Margaritas followed by a Merlot. Nothing unusual about that. When she got up after dinner, or attempted to stand I noticed something was awry. She just stood there clutching the table shaking it violently enough to knock over her wine glass sending what was left of her Merlot streaking across the table.

After she regained her composure, I helped her outside to the car. When we got home there was a repeat of the restaurant scene when she got out of the car. I turned to find her clutching the roof of the Miata but slipping backwards. I steadied her until she could stand again but when we got inside the house, BOOM she went down in the kitchen. BOOM she went down in the bedroom. BOOM she went down in the bathroom.

Quite plainly she had taken her evil blood pressure medication, Diovan, today and was on a drug and alcohol induced roller coaster ride. I had given her the lecture many times, but she never listens to me. Tina got on her case when she was here and most recently Susan gave her “What for”. Susan also included some sound information on dehydration and advice to take the Diovan before bed so the side effects would be gone by morning. This time Miss D outdid herself; she took the goddam medication just as we were leaving for Happy Hour. “I wasn’t thinking,” she explained. I was pissed. I was scared. Mostly though, I was thoroughly pissed.

After the fourth fall, I called the doctor to give him hell. The next morning, the Crazy Person was badly bruised on her legs, arms, chest and had a particularly nasty bump on her head over her right eye. I was still ranting about drug/alcohol abuse and threatening mal-practice suits. She went to the eye doctor. Aaaarrgh!

Afterwards she showed up at my office. The eye doctor told her she could have died. Several people knew what happened the night before and high tailed it to my office to give Miss Dixie hell. Lisa and Glenn can be hellcats. I left the three of them in my office with the door closed while they came down hard on a battered and humbled Miss D.

She agreed to go back to her doctor and confess the abuse, which she did the very next day. The doctor took her off several medications and backed up the advice of “Dr. Susan” on how and when to take blood pressure medication.

She is healing now, licking her wounds. The intervention has had a positive effect so far, but it has only been a week. …and guess what? Today is Wednesday.

2002-05-28T18:26:00.000-05:00

Between Scylla and Charybdis

YES! I’m back.

I wish I were still in France. In Paris, The City of Lights, where there were no demands upon me except for my credit card. People only asked what I desired and my wishes were granted. Oh, Joy! Oh, Rapture! If only my life could continue like that… yeah, right… so much for Pipe Dreams.

When I returned I was very busy at work straightening out the group health insurance debacle I mentioned earlier, but I was not overwhelmed by it. I came back with a ce qui sera sera attitude that allowed me to put the drama queens in the office at bay. I delegated, relegated, held court and otherwise encouraged people to find creative solutions to their own problems before consulting me. I hope they are honing their “people skills”.

There were also many social engagements and fund raisers to attend. I attended them all. It has been a whirlwind. Amazingly, I was relaxed even poised. I had brought back with me from France a Je ne sais pas attitude that had a dramatic effect on my superiors, peers and underlings. They were all deferring to me and I cannot tell you exactly why. I can only tell you that they got the job done at my bidding.

Now, that is how my world should always work.

Of course, my readers were not amused. A bit of trouble also brewed on the home front. Rarely are all aspects of my life in total balance.

I shall tell all in due time. Paris ran the gamut from Romance to muggings. Back in the States I found resolutions to problems at work but found a drug/alcohol problem at home. Order Chaos Order Chaos Yin Yang I am sailing between Scylla and Charybdis.

2002-05-03T04:35:00.000-05:00

I’m feeling DOOMED

First it was The Other Cheek who came to Houston and bonded with Miss Dixie during a road rage tour of the local sites while I was at work. Next it was Bob the Corgi who bonded with the Irascible One during one of her rants over dinner. For twenty odd years I have been watching that crazy person walk a tightrope littered with banana peels while juggling toasters and sabers blindfolded. I admit there is a certain appeal; a certain wide-eyed what will happen next? quality to life at casa Dah-Beed provided by the one who is Often in Error but NEVER in Doubt. But where can I go for tea and sympathy now that my two best friends have bonded with the Mouth of the South?

I often get up in the middle of the night only to run into one of Miss D’s booby traps. Tonight it was the cord to the video re-winder that was strewn across the entrance to the bathroom that got tangled in my toes. A few days ago it was a pillow blocking my path. Before that it was bubble wrap. The gunshot popping of the bubble wrap when I stepped on it really scared the shit out of me. Her deafness slept right through it.

Her latest obsession is throw rugs. We have throw rugs everywhere. There are rugs lined up outside the front and back doors, runners down the hall and in the closets. Smaller rugs make paths around the house like stepping-stones across a stream. Extra rugs are rolled up in the solarium waiting to be installed. She even got Eldon to nail a rug to the living room wall.

I think Susan was a bit amused by the excess or maybe it was a certain similarity to Mr. Sami who collects and hides treasures. Miss Dixie collects and displays. Susan and I unexpectedly returned home to find a full set of brand new pots and pans spread out on the kitchen counter. These magically appeared. We were only gone 20 minutes. Miss D. had struck a deal with her friend Peter who barters with “recyclers” all over town. I admit, I had to run this guys ass off. He drove me nuts. He is NOT allowed to come ‘round while I am home.

This needs some ‘splainin’. 99% of the time there is something wrong with the stuff Peter barters for. It is not always apparent. But there are clues. Like the shoes that Peter sold by the each instead of by the pair. Dick has a closet full of Josef Seibel sandals with straps that are too short to meet the buckle. So he walks around with the straps flapping in the breeze like someone who wandered away from the asylum. I know these pots and pans are booby-trapped.

I am taking a break from the local lunacy. Miss Dixie and I are leaving for Paris on Saturday. I am sure we will have some adventures when Her Deafness attempts to communicate how to make a Southern Comfort Old Fashioned to a French bartender.
Hopefully I will come back refreshed with many stories to tell.

addendum: I was wondering why so many people were google searching for OWK. Then I took a peak. eek! Should I change my name?

2002-05-01T03:35:00.000-05:00

Darwin Award Candidates

Dontcha just love it when stupid people remove themselves from the gene pool? Some of these have succeeded. I offer a banana peel to hasten the others along.

1 - When his 38-caliber revolver failed to fire at its intended victim during a hold-up in Long Beach, California, robber James Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder: he peered down the barrel and tried the trigger again. Happily for most concerned, this time it worked.

2 - Laborer Alexander Robinson of Mobile, Alabama, redefined the limits of tactlessness when he opened his eyes after surgery to restore his sight and said agreeably to his wife: 'Boy, you sure have got fat in four years'.

3 - The chef at a hotel in Switzerland lost a finger in a meat- cutting machine and, after a little hopping around, submitted a claim to his insurance company. The company, suspecting negligence, sent out one of its men to have a look for himself. He tried the machine and lost a finger. The chef's claim was approved.

4 - Mourners at the funeral of Anna Bochinsky in Moinesti, Rumania, were naturally somewhat taken aback when she abruptly leapt from her coffin as it was being carried to the grave. Before they could react to this unexpected outburst, the woman bounded into the nearest road, where she was run over and killed by a passing car.

5 - An American tourist in South America had the misfortune to be attacked by killer bees as he stood on the bank of the Amazon. Seeking refuge, he leapt into the river - and was devoured by piranha fish.

6 - A Malaysian monkey that had been trained to gather coconuts from trees demonstrated a pressing need for a refresher course when it leapt onto the shoulders of a passer-by in Kuala Lumpur and tried to twist this head off. The man was treated at a local hospital for a sprained neck.

7 - In Fort Lauderdale, Florida, a sixteen-year-old youth was charged with beating up his fifteen-year-old wife after the latter hid the caps to his toy pistol.

8 - A man who shoveled snow for an hour to clear a space for his car during a blizzard in Chicago returned with his vehicle to find a woman had taken the space. [Understandably] He shot her dead.

9 - After stopping for drinks at an illegal bar, a Zimbabwean bus driver found that the 20 mental patients he was supposed to be transporting from Harare to Bulawayo had escaped. Not wanting to admit his incompetence, the driver went to a nearby bus-stop and offered everyone in the queue a free ride. He then delivered the passengers to the mental hospital, telling staff that the patients were very excitable and prone to bizarre fantasies. The deception wasn't discovered for 3 days.

10- In Minneapolis, USA, 28 year old Derrick L Richardson has been charged with third-degree murder of his much loved cousin, Ken E Richardson. According to local police, Derrick had suggested to Ken that they play a game of Russian Roulette, but, having no revolver, instead put a semi-automatic pistol to his cousin's head. Apparently, he did not realize that one bullet always loads into the firing chamber of a semi-automatic.

11 - Texan prisons have banned convicts on death row from having a last cigarette, on the grounds that it is bad for their health.

12 - An American teenager was in hospital yesterday recovering from serious head wounds received from an oncoming train. When asked about how he received the injuries, the lad told the police that he was simply trying to see how close he could get his head to a moving train before he was hit.

13 - Thrash-happy judges in Saudi Arabia have sentenced a Filipino man to 75 lashes for possession of alcohol - after he was caught with two chocolate liqueurs at an airport. (now Boone's Farm, I could understand! was this the bad taste police?)

14 - Following the initiatives of the Afghan Taliban government -which has banned kite-flying, TV watching and wearing white socks - Iran is also cracking down on its more decadent citizens. Ayatollah Mohammed Yadzi has decreed that dog walking is to be made illegal, saying that taking dogs out onto the streets was a public insult', as it was a blind imitation of Westerners.

15 - A mother took her daughter to the doctor and asked him to give her an examination to determine the cause of her daughters swollen abdomen. It only took the doctor about 2 seconds to say "Gimmee a break lady! Your daughter is pregnant." The mother turned red with fury and she argued with the doctor that her daughter was a good girl and would never compromise her reputation by having sex with a boy. The doctor faced the window and silently watched the horizon. The mother became enraged and screamed, "Quit looking out the window! Aren't you paying attention to me?" "Yes, of course I am paying attention ma'am. It's just that the last time this happened, a star appeared in the east, and three wise men came. I was hoping they would show up once again and help me figure out who got your daughter pregnant!

2002-04-28T13:03:00.000-05:00

BtC in Houston Days 3 & 4

Day Three
BtC called me at the office when her meeting wrapped and I collected her twenty minutes later. We get her re settled at Casa Dah-beed over a couple of Vodka and Oranges then it was off to Hickory Hollow for chicken fried steak and white gravy. BtC wanted a bit of country flavor while in town and this place is a little bit of country heaven with Formica table tops, beer in coolers and salad in a galvanized tub. A country band completes the picture. We opted to dine al fresco on the outdoor patio.

The evening was still young and we ended up at the Marq*E Center people watching and shopping around the little novelty boutiques. On a side note, we made several trips to the Wall of Water, but were always too late. We saw it blackness sans water.

Day Four
We began with Breakfast at the Bering Spring Festival. This all you can eat event was perfect for the full day of activities we had planned. Susan met several of the movers and shakers of both the Bering Memorial Methodist Church and Bering Omega Community Services including a private tour of the Adult Day Care Facility.

Afterwards we headed to the Art Car Parade where we staked out a spot on Allen Parkway right by the Sabine Street Bridge about 10 minutes before the event began. Susan was wide-eyed and open mouthed through most of it and not because of the spectacle of the artist’s creativity. NO. It was the freedom from regulation that knocked her socks off.

Folks dancing atop moving vehicles had nothing to hold onto or keep them steady as the cars stopped started and sometimes jerked forward or lunged to a stop. Cars dragging barbed wire and chain link fences through the narrow streets impressed her. The interaction of improbable vehicles zigzagging along the street and spectators scrambling to get a good view then hastening to get out of the way as the “contraption” approached is all part of the fun. The only mishap we witnessed was a Mom who dumped her 8 year old daughter out of the wagon she was pulling behind her bike. Mom turned quickly and abruptly. The Wagon tilted. Daughter went rolling across the pavement in the middle of the parade. I don’t think the kid got upset until all the adults rushed to her rescue which scared her more than the spill.

We blew off the International Festival after the parade in favor of a breather at home. That lasted 30 minutes. We were out antiquing looking for a wire sculpture of a mariachi to adorn my back yard. The vendor had vanished. I will look for him later.

We capped off the evening with a barbeque with Glenn and Chris at her home in Sugar Land. It was a perfect evening to lounge around the patio playing games and drinking margaritas.

This morning, we sadly said good-bye to BtC after breakfast at I-Hop. If I seem a bit hurried. It is because Miss D. is quacking at me to get a move on. We have tickets to the 2PM showing of Kilimanjaro at the I-Max.

We saw Katie in the parade. Looking sharp.

2002-04-25T22:33:00.000-05:00

BtC in Houston – Day Two

We slept this morning. Yesterday was a long day especially for BtC. After a Continental breakfast of Coffee and Shiner Boch Beer Bread, Susan and I headed to the Kemah Boardwalk. It was raining off and on in my neighborhood, but as soon as we got past downtown, the roads were bone dry and the sky was sunny and bright.

There were no crowds at the Boardwalk so we were able to stroll about along the water watching the gulls hovering around the shrimp boats as they came back into the harbor. Susan had her heart set on eating at Joe’s Crab Shack. No argument here. In fact we both zeroed in on the crab and artichoke salad with penne pasta. It was very good and light enough to leave room for a cup of ice cream from the Marble Slab Creamery.

We stretched out the shade enjoying eating ice cream watching some little kids in bathing suits play in the dancing fountains. We browsed the gift shops and then headed farther south to Galveston.

The historic Strand District was our destination but a few blocks before we got there, ole Eagle Eye spotted an aluminum Christmas tree in the window of an antique shop. There was no question but that we would stop and examine it closer. She passed this one by.

The day’s browsing was not completely unrewarding. While meandering through one of the more curious stores another favorite of the Corgi revealed itself: Tiki Mugs! about a dozen of them. We examined each one carefully for color clarity and cracks; much like choosing a diamond. This is serious business. When we got through examining and rating each one, we both knew without a doubt that we had found the best of the lot. So a lovely lime green Tiki god with a menacing grin, bare midriff, tattooed legs and a bare behind is now on its way to a new home in New Jersey.

With treasures in tow we zipped up the freeway to Houston where we picked up Miss Dixie and headed to La Griglia for dinner. Dinner was a leisurely affair topped off with cappuccino and decadent desserts.

Tomorrow is a work day for both the Corgi and I, so we packed up her stuff and transferred her from Casa Dah-beed to the Double Tree Post Oak. Check in was a breeze and the coffee maker in the bathroom is an acceptable distance from the toilet making for a perfect ending to a loverly day.

2002-04-25T10:21:00.000-05:00

BtC in Houston – Day one

Her plane arrived on time and I was jolly on the spot to pick her up at Hobby Airport. We got settled into Casa Dah-beed and waited for Miss Dixie to get home after delivering Miss Guatemala to his night classes.

The Hump-Day Happy Hour gang had reserved some tables at Café Adobe where file13 and Cyberrtoad joined us for margaritas and hores d’oeurves. Susan’s preference: anything with guacamole. We stayed past sundown watching the Houston sunset paint the mission style carillon of St. Anne’s School in pastel hues of pink and purple. When velvety blues and blacks cloaked the night sky, the festive colored lights trimming the rooftop patio came on creating a fiesta type atmosphere.

It was a great evening. We kept our waitress Stephanie jumping since every few minutes somebody new would arrive, hungry and thirsty. Elaine took some photos. Look to her sight for the postings. Laurence brought a loaf of Shiner Boch bread to welcome BtC to the Bayou City.

After wards we headed to Keys West where the pianist, Beverly, serenaded Susan with songs of New York. Knowing it had been a long day for BtC, we headed home to settle in for the night.

This morning we woke late. I found an old percolator while cleaning out a closet for Saturday’s rummage sale at Bering. Susan loves scalding hot percolated coffee. We enjoyed the coffee with the Shiner Boch Bread. Perfect. Now we are heading to the Kemah Boardwalk for lunch and later to the Strand on Galveston.

The only thing missing is ToC.

2002-04-22T05:40:00.000-05:00

BtC is Coming to Town

The Party continues… A week ago we were entertaining the brothers of the Irascible One.

This past weekend we were entertained by friends in Sugar Land where we learned that Sam’s Club sells margaritas by the bucket and the dog with the longest back in the whole wide world is the poodle. (No shit, ask Miss Dixie, she will tell you all about it. In a very loud voice.) We also spent a balmy Sunday on Lake Livingston. Most relaxing. Now I have a ton of things to do in the next two days because….

On Wednesday, Bob the Corgi arrives in Houston! The much-anticipated event is upon us. I shall pick her up at Hobby Airport and bring her to Café Adobe on Westheimer around 6:30 PM. Look for us on the roof top patio.

The next event definitely on the calendar is the Art Car Parade on Saturday. After breakfast at the Bering Spring Festival* we will stake out a spot near the Sabine Street Bridge to watch the parade. Several H-Town bloggers will join us. We hope you can too.

*Spring Festival: Highlights include full breakfast and rummage sale benefiting the programs at Bering Memorial United Methodist Church. 1427 Hawthorne Street, Houston, TX 77006. 7am till 2pm.

2002-04-19T03:45:00.000-05:00

Jimmy and Shorty

I just read jadedju's blog entry about Jimmy and Shorty. It brought back so many memories of when I worked directly with the homeless and near homeless HIV+ population in Houston. So many creative people with interesting stories. So much energy spent on navigating through the complex system of social services. So many people found dead behind dumpsters or slumped over at bus stops. So many names on the quilt.

I still remember them. Vividly. I still go to a support group.

2002-04-18T04:19:00.000-05:00

Stranded on the Moon

To say this has been a stressful week would be an understatement to say the least. I got a wake up call telling me I’ve got to unwind when I managed to lock myself (and Miss Dixie) out of the house, garage and car. I will be making amends later today for that error.

I was scheduled to give a presentation to our Volunteer Committee at 6PM then join the gang for Hump-Day Happy Hour. I came home to pick up the Irascible One and drop him at Mesa Grill on my way to my meeting. No problema. You know that sinking feeling you get when you set the lock on a door, pull it shut and then realize that the keys are on the other side of that door? I got that feeling as soon as I heard the door click. Damn.

I got that feeling again when I when to our hiding place to get the spare key. Nothing there. Damn! Damn! I got that feeling again when I went to the neighbor’s home who has a spare key. Nobody home. Damn! Damn! Damn! Same with the neighbor on the other side. Doesn’t anybody stay home any more? Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!

At least one of the neighbors was home and we were able to track down Eldon to come to our rescue. Needless to say I missed my meeting. I was in no mood to be charming by that time anyway. I shall be making my apologies later today.

The stress also manifested itself in a dream last night. I locked myself and two other astronauts out of the lunar landing module on the moon. Oops.

So me and the two astronauts were looking around the module trying to figure out how to break in asking questions like, What would MacGuyver do? and Shouldn’t we be wearing helmets?

It was futile. Plus we were on the bottom side of the moon looking down on the earth. It was hard not to fall off in the reduced gravity and just float away into the blackness. So we just laid there chucking rocks at the earth to watch them spark when they hit the atmosphere and become meteors.

I hope today is a better day.

2002-04-16T06:48:00.000-05:00

The In-laws Pay a Call

In anticipation of their visit, the Dickster wanted to be sure that we had plenty of everything when his brothers and sister in law came to Houston last week. There was a coupon on the Supermarket bag that stated “20% off all meat and seafood! Fill this bag…” Whether or not it was a true bargain, I have no clue. But I do know that he filled the bag as it instructed. He also raided the produce department. The fridge was stuffed to capacity.

The fridge is still stuffed to capacity. We ate out every night they were here.

New movie Review: Frailty

2002-04-12T09:35:00.000-05:00

Mana from Heaven

I have been naughty. I admit it. My world has been a bit topsy turvy lately and something had to give. Blogging got the short straw.

I am updating today out of guilt, guilt, guilt!

Whilst you were waiting, we decided to make Hump-day Happy Hour a moveable feast. Last Wednesday we invaded El Pueblito on Richmond. It's a hole-in-the-wall Guatemalan/Tex Mex joint with wonderful margaritas. The service is slow so I recommend getting the grande ritas. They are huge, like little bird baths. The pineapple salsa is a sweet contrast to the spicey pico and queso. That was good but not a rave. At the end of the evening our server brought us the wrong bill. It was for only half of what we ordered. Being honest people, we took it inside to the manager to get it straightened out.

Later the Irascible One, who had been considerably mellowed by Happy Hour, and I stopped by Kenneally's Irish Pub to check on the latest H-Town bloggers meeting. We wandered about the place until we spotted them. WOW! There were about 20 people there. Several tables full of people were yakking away over near empty pizza tins when we found them. See photos here. It was definitely winding down by the time we arrived but they made room for us to join the fun.

Since I had been on hiatus, I had no idea that file13 was offering a loaf of Parmesan/Garlic bread to the last to arrive. It was a pleasant surprise and I hope we didn't piss off the penultimate last to arrive. We kind of swooped down, scooped up our prize at the last minute and disappeared into the night. The bread filled our kitchen with the aroma of garlic and cheese overnight and the next day we enjoyed wonderful sandwiches with it.

Thank you very much Laurence! For the recipe see file13.

2002-04-05T06:21:00.000-06:00

Payback Time

Before Hector the Houseboy came along, Miss Dixie was in charge of the cleaning chores around here. I dreaded those days when our home was turned into a toxic chemical dump where only headless cockroaches could survive.

Industrial Strength means “for pansies” to the Queen of Kamikaze Cleaning. Vinegar, clorox and ammonia are basic favorites. If you don’t lose a few layers of skin in the process, the bathroom is not clean is her philosophy. As a finishing touch, a pint of Clorox was poured into the toilet bowl as an aromatic signal, “Sanitized”.

Imagine being wakened on what should be a lazy Saturday morning by Ammonium Chloride fumes coming through the bedroom walls. With burning eyes and raspy throat, I would plead with her not to do that when I am home while opening windows and doors to air the place out. “Wussy,” was her callous response.

Yesterday when I came home, I decided to light some incense. Not my usual sandal or patchouli but a new flavor in my deluxe assortment called musk amber. There is a picture of a sperm whale on the package. I lit the little cone and placed it near the return air to distribute the gentle scent throughout the house and then went in the kitchen to heat up some leftovers for dinner.

Imagine my surprise when a few moments later, the Irascible One burst into the kitchen demanding to know, “What is that goddam stuff? It’s burning my eyes!”

That, my dear, is my new favorite incense.

(Shelley is so right about making bloody mary's out of shrimp flavored ice. I may start putting vodka in my cocktail sauce too.)

2002-04-01T17:31:00.000-06:00

Screwdrivers de la Mer

I swear everyday is an adventure. Today was particularly bizarre at the office and I did my best to keep stress and chaos at bay. I even managed to slip away 10 minutes early under the guise of going to the Post Office.

My plan seemed flawless: slip away before anybody realized I had flown the coop, take the long scenic route home with the top down and relax with a vodka orange in front of the computer. Well I did one and two on my list and now I am doing number three. There is a catch, however.

Houston water is not the best tasting water in the whole wide world; therefore, we purchase our ice. Nice “slow ice” with no air bubbles inside. Yum. Except today it is not so Yum. Miss Dixie did the marketing today and placed a sack of shrimp atop the slow ice. My screwdriver tastes oddly of the sea.

And I left the office early too, just especially... (sigh)

2002-03-31T07:47:00.000-06:00

Travel Plans

It looks like my family trip to Welsh Patagonia is not going to happen this year, so I’ve made alternate plans to spend a week in Paris. The first reaction from the step-daughter was You can’t go to Paris, terrorists are going to blow up the Eiffel Tower! (read with the Linda Blair Exorcist voice complete with spinning head). Two days later comes a phone call from same step daughter: Can we come with you?

So instead of the Paris of the South, we will be winging our way to the real thing in May. It will be fun to show Kelly and Rick around the City of Light. Even though I have not been there since 1985, it is easy enough to get around despite the fact that my French sucks. I mix up genders so badly that Parisians usually answer me in English. We won’t even go into Miss Dixie’s problems with language barriers compounded by deafness. As long as she can get a Southern Comfort Old Fashioned, she will be happy.

Yesterday I immersed myself in French web sites offering metro tickets, Museum tickets, tours etc. I devoted most of the day to planning our time in Paris. We are booked at the Hotel Mayfair right by the Tuileries between the musée du Louver and Place de la Concorde. I drifted off to sleep musing whether or not I allowed sufficient free time to simply drift around the city. All night I dreamt of my former adventures in Paris and was ready to for a relaxing day exploring the Marais. To my chagrin I was still in my Houston bedroom when I woke. Dang. May can’t come fast enough.

New Movie reviews: Death to Smoochy and Panic Room

2002-03-28T17:16:00.000-06:00

Still Bailing Dirt

A week later…

The day is sunny and dry; perfect for washing down the house. I should point out that this is normally accomplished with a Power Wash, but the generator or something failed when Eldon’s crew showed up putting us on a wait list. Eldon still had not returned the errant ladder so he is still on Miss Dixie’s Shit List. Mind you, a nine ft stepladder is hanging in the garage and Eldon dropped off a “that’s not my stepladder” ladder. So once again the folding chairs are in place by the garage as I slip off to the office.

Noon…

I schedule a luncheon meeting and do not drop by nor call to see how things are going at the house.

5PM…

When I arrive home, I find the outside of the house sparkling and an excited Hector exclaims, “Oh, Dah-beed, he pall op de chair tree tines.”

Quelle surprise!

As soon as my presence was known, Miss Dixie came racing into the kitchen with her own version of the days events at a decibel level that could crack granite. “Those fucking chairs kept sinking into the mulch!” (no shit Sherlock) “I fell three times because of those fucking chairs.” (you don’t say…) “I hurt my back and it’s all Eldon’s fault.” “He is going to hear about this!”

“Cheese ‘n’ Pie Crust, if he didn’t already hear you it would be a miracle.” was my initial thought but I decided to keep that to myself.

Did I mention that Miss Dixie also planted Holly bushes in front of the house? She was a mess of scratches and walking all funny. It was quite dramatic. Eldon was in trouble and there was the colorful “proof” right in front of me.

Hector was lying low during the diatribe. I was fixing a vodka and orange.

2002-03-27T02:50:00.000-06:00

Spring Cleaning

My first clue was seeing the pile of New Rags heaped in front of the back door. My second clue was Miss Dixie’s especially foul mood. I did not look for the third clue. I hopped in the Miata and high-tailed it to the office where things were merely frantic.

It’s that time of year again. Miss Dixie and Hector the Houseboy have been digging out the shovels and rakes and implements of destruction to begin the arduous task of spring-cleaning. I have been making myself scarce lest I get dragged into the drama.

Eldon borrowed the Irascible One’s favorite stepladder and didn’t return it. Miss D. cannot wash the front of the house without this ladder, (It’s like a favorite spoon for eating morning oatmeal.) hence the especially foul mood.

In its stead, two folding chairs were placed at the ready in front of the garage. OY! I think I left skid marks in the driveway as I left that day. Fortunately it rained. It rained cats and dogs. No house cleaning would take place and I ventured a few suggestions from the safety of my office.

“Why don’t I just go get the ladder?” was met with the kind of quacking that inspired Disney to create Donald Duck. Dead end there. There was a moral point to be made about returning the things you borrow and the folding chairs were merely the first link in a chain of events that would emphasize that point.

“Why don’t you use brushes instead of rags to clean the house?” was embraced like a thunderbolt of enlightenment. Miss D. who had been salivating over the chance to use her new rags never even considered the benefits of using brushes to accomplish the task at hand.

Leaving Hector to his usual chores, the Irascible One took my advice and headed to the store for proper tools to accomplish the task. When I got home for lunch I found a beaming Miss Dixie and two vegetable brushes lined up on the kitchen counter.

That’s part of why I did not blog last week. I was hiding.

2002-03-25T17:40:00.000-06:00

Where Have I Been?

No, I was not kidnapped by aliens, white slavers, or a really mixed up Catholic Priest. I've been right here all along trying to solve Tai-Pei game #1738 - Cube configuration. I don't think it can be done.

2002-03-20T03:04:00.000-06:00

Y’all Come!

Judging by Monday, Hump Day Happy Hour couldn’t get here fast enough. Actually Tuesday was much better. There were still many flies buzzing about that needed swatting, but a closed door and my phone on Take a Message allowed me to tunnel up to the light. Everything will be OK.

This weekend the Bayou City Arts Festival will be held in Memorial Park. It’s a fun event with lots of entertainment, food and of course, Art. The Irascible One and I will be roaming the grounds providing Artist’s Relief from 11AM until 4PM on Saturday. Come on out and see us!

Last year I took a shine to Aberrant Art (quelle surprise). The artist, Barry Kite, takes his exacto-knife to famous paintings and transports its characters into unlikely settings. Check out the e-card section for a closer look at his twisted sense of humor. I have several of his pieces adorning my office, like Sunday Afternoon, Looking for the Car and Goodbye, Norma Jean.

Many local charities including Bering Omega Community Services will benefit from part of the proceeds. As you can imagine, Corporate support to local non-profits has been down a bit lately and we can really use your help to maintain the quality of our services to the HIV+ community. It ain’t over folks. Hope to see you there.

(Yeah, I know it's 3AM. I said, Everything will be OK not Everything IS OK.)
Besides, I can count on Blogger being up and running at this hour.

2002-03-18T18:25:00.000-06:00

One of THOSE Days

Today started out well enough. I woke up in a great mood after a lazy weekend and decided to wear new slacks, new belt and a new pair of choos. The rest of my ensemble was nearly new, so I looked terrific and felt terrific. I drove to the office with the top down, radio blaring, feeling like the King of the World. When I got to work and it all unraveled.

This was the day to find out all the pesky little things that either went wrong or got overlooked in the past month. I found people with errors on their Insurance enrollments, deduction messages that never made it to Payroll, COBRA errors, incorrect Life Insurance coverage, missing Insurance cards, misspelled names, terminations that were reported late, an OSHA violation in the parking lot, problems with software licensing documentation (where did it go?), router problems, the copier broke down, the new copier contract has unacceptable stipulations, a new contract with an off-site record storage company had to be redone and that’s not even half of it.

Annoying things like somebody taking an especially putrid crap and smelling up the entire stairwell before 9AM did not sit well with me. Why the hell didn’t he use the fucking can of Lysol we provided? An employee who chose not to attend the Insurance meeting on Friday expected me to hold a special Q&A session just for her. (get real) Somebody took my parking spot after lunch. And my allergies finally kicked in. Pollen season is in full swing here.

On the home front, the motor went out on the Jacuzzi over the weekend. No more bubbly Calgon nights to soak my troubles away. The lights on my 75 gallon salt water aquarium totally blew out. Tonight I arrived home to find the exterminator was here. We have termites. That’s another $3,000.00 how-do-you-do. All this and my dogs are screamin’ from the new freakin choos. And how the fuck was your day?

2002-03-18T04:06:00.000-06:00

The Binky Project

So Tina of the quick good-bye is wondering where I am… The weekend zipped by in a flash. It was supposed to be a dark and stormy weekend and I was dreading my time as a volunteer at the Bayou City Arts Festival. Good News! I messed up the date. The festival is next weekend. We didn’t get the predicted deluge either.

So what did I do? I vegged. Totally. Stayed in bed until almost noon, edited some video, saw a couple of movies, wrote a letter for Binky’s kindergarten class project, dabbled in the kitchen and suddenly it is Monday morning again.

The Binky Project: I got a sketchy letter from Binky’s kindergarten teacher asking me to write a letter for his Social Studies class describing “my school experiences” and include a photo of me receiving mail. She was very vague in her letter and I am not sure what she has in mind. This put me in a grumpy mood.

So I e-mailed the kid telling him we called Social Studies History when I was in school. That is a good place to study the Post Office because if the employees don’t kill each other off in shooting rampages anthrax would. Either way the Post Office is already History as far as I’m concerned. It was quite a rant and most satisfying to write. I deleted it when I finished.

I e-mailed a modified version of my rant so he could take it to school with him this morning. I also dropped a copy of it at the Post Office. Let the kids decide if the Post Office is History or not.

Oh, the movies we saw this week: The Time Machine and Monsoon Wedding.

2002-03-15T01:26:00.000-06:00

OW II

I finished the bag. I swear there was one of those cartoon fingers coming out of the bag bidding me to come hither. I helplessly hithered while making dinner. Now my palette is burning and I can feel the outline of my gums around each tooth. I am sipping ice water.

Normally I agree with Mish Mish, barbeque potato chips have no appeal to me. Yuck. But I took that forbidden first bite out of curiosity and got hooked like a crack addict. Lays KC Masterpiece Barbeque Chips are the culprits. Thanks for the link, BtC, and clarification.

Bet you can't eat just one.

2002-03-14T02:03:00.000-06:00

OW

A friend once told me she ate a giant sized bag of barbeque flavored potato chips while waiting for her son. Her mouth not only burned but blistered from the experience.

Hector the Houseboy left a Super-sized bag of Barbeque flavored potato chips here after his cleaning marathon this week. The only reason I did not eat the whole bag is because I went to Hump Day Happy Hour. I ate half a bag. Then washed it down with too many margaritas, on the rocks with salt. Why didn’t I just drink paint thinner?

It’s 2AM and my mouth is dry and on fire. My stomach sloshes when I move from gulping too much water. Miss Dixie is fast asleep. I’m thinking of smacking her.

2002-03-13T08:01:00.000-06:00

Dang!

This morning I stepped on the bathroom scale. Looked down. Gasped. Instinctively sucked in my stomach to make the numbers go lower.

It didn't work. sigh.

2002-03-11T06:35:00.000-06:00

Singing at the Ballet

Do rude people who talk or crackle candy wrappers in theaters drive you batty. Do you glare at them? Do you snap your fingers and point at them? Do you tell them right out loud to put a sock in it? I do. (except for Miss Dixie – I have no power there.)

The odd comment here and there doesn’t bother me, but the running commentary does. One year four women purchased season tickets to the seats right behind us at the ballet. I knew they were going to be trouble when they entered yammering and oohed and aawed about every bit of scenery, every bit of glittery costume, every little bit of movement on stage. I turned and glared several times but they always started flapping their jaws again.

During the second performance of that season when they continued to talk into the overture I turned right around in my seat and stared at them until they stopped. The woman next to me audibly thanked me further embarrassing the biddies. From then on I made sure to give them a raised eyebrow and a wagging finger as soon as they entered the theater. Overkill? They renewed their season tickets but on a different day. I’d say quite effective.

The situation in the row in front of us is different. One of the lady’s appears quite old and frail. She wears perfume. Lots of it. Jean and Suzy who have had the aisle seats for years take turns sitting next to her so that neither one must endure a whole performance breathing in the vile fumes.

Jean was not particularly impressed with yesterday’s production of Cleopatra. First of all, they premiered it two years ago and were repeating it already. Second of all, she had the grandchildren all week and was feeling a bit crabby. She confessed that she almost grabbed Ben Stevenson, the Artistic Director and demand to know if this was Amateur Night at the Houston Ballet? I chalk up her bad mood to reason #2.

So yesterday with Jean already cranking up to bitch-slap the next asshole who crossed her path, she takes her turn sitting next to the perfumed Frail Lady after intermission. Well, damn if Frail Lady wasn’t having the time of her life and began to hum along with the music. Even the deaf Miss Dixie noticed it. Jean was leaning into Suzy so far that she practically pushed her into the aisle. One swift back-hander would have shut up Frail Lady. Permanently. But Jean is too refined for that.

Next month I shall announce to Suzy and Jean at the beginning that I have brought the Libretto so we can all sing along.

2002-03-09T17:13:00.000-06:00

Lots of Smiles and One Sad Tear

Last night was a fun night in the Bayou City. Our friend Joe from San Antonio came to visit. We hadn’t seen him in several years so it was bound to be a special day. I got off work a bit early; the Miata was repaired, delivered all sparkley and new looking. There really ISsuch a thing as a Mac Haik feeling like their slogan says.

We decided to go out and paint the town. We got an early start with dinner at La Griglia. From the appetizer, the most succulent little white clams in mild garlic, shallot cream sauce, to dessert, a double devil’s food diet be damned cake. We savored every bite for three hours and caught up with all the news of the past couple years we missed together.

Joe didn’t know that some mutual Friends opened a bar near downtown recently so it was only fitting to stop at Keys West for a nightcap and some piano music. Interestingly several other acquaintances we hadn’t seen in quite some time dropped by so our night cap turned into quite a night.

On the way home we decided to drive through the neighborhood to show Joe how our quaint little neighborhood is changing. Little single story homes are being moved or razed to make way for multi story town homes. We passed Tutto Bene and decided to wind down the night with a cappuccino and dessert and some Opera music.

The guard stopped us saying that the restaurant had already closed but we talked our way inside and found Camie, our very extra special Romanian waitress extraordinaire who seated us straight away.

The most wonderful part of dining at Tutto Bene was the roaming opera singers who wandered from room to room accompanied by an accordionist. Our favorite artiste was Patti Spain, a mezzo who also ventured into tenor territory on occasion. You grammatists have already discerned that I am using the past tense. They are all gone. The harpsichord in the main room is also gone. And come Monday, Camie will be gone. The fates led us to Tutto Bene for a final farewell.

Camie starts a new job at the Houston Petroleum Club. We wish her well.

The neighborhood is changing.

2002-03-08T12:14:00.000-06:00

Daleks and Borg

Wednesday our auto-attendant at the office sounded like it was underwater. This included voice mail. Everything came through scratchy, broken up and barely intelligible. The cause: too many saved messages in peoples voice mail jamming the system. Problem solved with a few keystrokes to clear the system and a re-boot.

The security system on the Maxima has been possessed by an evil spirit. It no longer locks itself as it should. The remote only works if you click it near the rear left door. The alarm sounds on a whim and the passenger windows only respond to the down command from the drivers seat.

At home, all the entertainment center controls have agreed NOT to turn any of the televisions on or off without some coaxing. The Master bedroom TV will turn on ONLY after the VCR has been activated. The solarium TV volume control only responds to LOUDER. The Guestroom TV must be manually manipulated.

The Irascible One purchased an “Atomic Clock” that magically checks in with the cosmos each hour to provide the most accurate up to the nano-second time on the planet. Unfortunately, the directions were lost and within an hour of setting, the clock now provides the most accurate up the nano-second Greenwich Mean Time on the planet. Miss D. has no concept of time anyway, so I was quite surprised to find this gadget in her shopping cart.

Blogger continues to nap at the most inopportune times keeping me at bay when my creative juices are giving birth to incredibly brilliant ideas. The world will continue to evolve at a snails pace without them.

AOL… why bother even going there?

2002-03-06T08:47:00.000-06:00

from the Small World Dept.

The H-Town Bloggers met last night at Brasil's, a Montrose Area coffee shop where I had some kind of tea that tasted like Pumpkin Pie! I had met Elaine, Cybertoad, and Hanna, MishMish, at the previous meeting. As soon as they post some photos I will either link to a gallery or swipe one to publish here.

Everyone else was new to me and I sat down next to Mike, not yet a member of the H-Town team. He told me that he writes Ones and Zeros. Lo and behold, I recognized that name from the Pepys Project. His Site is right next to mine (at least for now) in the Texas section.

Jeepers, could I fit any more links in here? Small World.

2002-03-05T08:21:00.000-06:00

War on Leaf Blowers

I don't understand why Lawn Maintenance Companies or the people they work for allow the guy with the leaf blower to blow the leaves into the middle of the street! It makes me crazy. I have visions of aiming my car right at them or carrying my own leaf blower and blowing all the debris right back at them.

2002-03-04T09:22:00.000-06:00

The Aqua Massager

I saw it right in the middle of Memorial City Mall: The Aqua-Massager. What in the world is that contraption? It looked like a cross between a tanning bed and an Iron Lung. The sign said Sign up for a free Aqua-Massage! and there was a pretty long line. We stopped to watch.

A lady laid face down on the table, her head cradled in a donut-shaped pillow. The lid was lowered over her so only her head remained outside the contraption. A loose sheet of vinyl blanketed her body and separated her from the mechanics of the machine. Then they turned on the water works.

It was kinda like George Jetson's shower except she was lying down and protected from the water by the vinyl partition. The people running the show controlled the speed and intensity of the pulsating water works. Like a robotic car wash the water bar moved up her body massaging as it went along. When the pulsating water hit her nether region, she let out a scream and a whooping laugh. Something tickled her fancy, I suppose. That set off waves of laughter among the spectators.

I've never seen anything like it. Maybe I should get out more often. Even so, I cannot imagine having a massage in the middle of a busy Mall. I much prefer dim lights, soothing music cocoa butter and incense. But that's just me.

Movie Review: The Sound of Music - Sing-Along Version

2002-03-02T17:23:00.000-06:00

My Little Green Jelly Bean

The planets are spinning all out of whack around a bloated moon. Today began as normal as any day around here. I had a massage after work yesterday and woke late pleasantly achey and still smelling of cocoa butter. Miss Dixie prepared a triple espresso for me and headed out to Starbuck’s for a fresh supply of killer-brew. I enjoyed my moment of silence still snug in bed and leafing through the morning paper.

An hour later he returned with the news that someone clunked my little Miata. Precious was stopped in line waiting to exit the parking lot when someone in an evil Lexus LS400 backed right into the front left fender. The excuse is that he could not see my little green jellybean. The reality is that he didn’t look.

Of course this only happens when the Irascible One is behind the wheel. Once he parked it on the street across from the neighbor’s driveway. This particular neighbor is British and probably not used to the steering wheel on the left etc. After backing out of his driveway and crunching my front left fender, his note said, “Disaster! I’ve pranged your car.” I learned the meaning of pranged the hard way. The other time a bicyclist actually stopped and punched the hood of the Miata when Miss D. was stopped at a traffic light. She never did provide a satisfactory answer for that incident and I thought it best not to pursue it either.

Through her many misadventures on the road, Miss Dixie has concluded one thing: When new body parts are installed on an old car, its value has been enhanced. Hence this is a good thing. Only an attorney could come up with this logic.

This afternoon we went to see Italian for Beginners and afterwards stopped at Kroger’s to purchase a cabbage.

2002-03-01T08:06:00.000-06:00

Only Three More Days 'til Monday!

And I bet the weekend goes just that fast.

2002-02-27T03:54:00.000-06:00

A Blessed Event

Three thirty a.m. My eyeballs are stuck in the WIDE OPEN position after visiting Shelagh's new design. It's a knockout.

Enter Miss Dixie, singing. Actually, singing about a blessed event. Her own.

Today is the Irascible One's Birthday!!!! We will take her to Cafe Adobe to celebrate.
(the one at I-10@Silber if you want to drop by - 6:30)

NO STRIPPERS ALLOWED!

(the new car polishing rags have been banished to the garage)

2002-02-26T06:46:00.000-06:00

From the there are choos ebree-ware department

Ann, over at Catharsis is contemplating shelving the stacks of books on her night stand. Jadedju has laundry stacking up because she’d rather research blogs. BtC is drowning in Mr Sami’s neverending quest to acquire more stuff. And we’ve all seen the dishes piling up in kd’s sink. So why should my home be any different?

Miss Guatemala cleans on Wednesdays. The place sparkles and always smells of pine-sol, cleanser and fabric softener. Thursday the luster wanes. Friday this week, the Irascible One decided to organize his sock drawer by upending it onto the bedroom floor. Saturday, her grace fell on said pile in the middle of the night. The socks cushioned the landing, but I was awakened in mid-air by the SHREIK as she went down. Sunday the pile was pushed behind the bedroom door.

Monday when I came home from work I asked, “What are all those old socks doing on the piano bench?

The response: “Those aren’t old socks; those are new rags.

Cocktail anyone?

2002-02-25T07:47:00.000-06:00

A Most Disturbing Dream

The short version is this. I was with a group of people seeking lodging for three days. The only place that would take us in was a huge, very grim and dreary looking Gothic Monastery run by some solemn but Good Brothers. We were provided pillows and blankets and allowed to sleep on the floor of the Great Hall.

There was one rule: The doors were locked at 9 p.m. and nobody was allowed to enter after that for any reason whatsoever.

Listening carefully, I ascertained that black-hooded figures like Death itself preyed upon this Monastery and its inhabitants. We would be subject to these demons during the night should we open the doors to them.

All went well for the first two nights. On the third night we were at a Party and got back just before curfew. Spirits were high and none of us were really ready for sleep. People milled all about the Great Hall. If somebody would forget the RULE tonight would be the night. I gathered my blanket and pillow and settled in on the landing of the stairs, prepared for the worst.

Sure enough the door had been opened. Strangers were in the Great Hall and soon enough they were pestering me. People asking me to bandage injuries, friends I came with asking me to help find their pillows and blankets, vendors from work wanting explanations of invoices. Some were subtle. Some were bizarre. I curled up tightly under my blanket knowing that if I opened my eyes, I was doomed to whatever fate the demons had planned.

Minutes seemed like hours. Then a strange quiet prevailed. Not a whisper of sound save my own breathing and heartbeat did I hear. Then the gentle voice of the Good Brother telling me it was morning and I could rise. Or was it?

I am sure this is a direct result of a most bleak comedy I’ve seen in years; No Man’s Land. Miss Dixie reviews: No Man's Land.

2002-02-24T19:15:00.000-06:00

Weekend addendum

If I had a lick of sense I would have headed out with my camera today. It was another picture perfect day with little puffy white clouds dotting the Houston sky. We did a bit of Sunday-driving in the Miata with the top down. Hot Damn, I love that car. There were many photo-ops on our drive and professional photographers had their tripods and fancy lenses set up all over town. But I had a command performance at my company’s Volunteer Appreciation Dinner today at Riva’s Italian Restaurant. I was presenting the Volunteer of the Year Award for the Financial Assistance Department. By the way, Riva’s is a favorite of mine for a quiet relaxing mid-week lunch. The food is excellent too.

2002-02-24T05:41:00.000-06:00

A Most Pleasant Afternoon

It was such a beautiful sunny day with nary a cloud in the sky, we decided to have lunch on the Boardwalk in Kemah. We hadn’t been down there in about two years. Wow, has it developed. Wow, did it get crowded. Wow, we saw somebody getting arrested, Mirandized and cuffed in our parking lot!

It’s about a 20 minute drive and there is always some sort of delay on the Gulf Freeway, but the gods were with us and we tootled right along with minimal hassles (read Miss D was immersed in Mozart and didn’t notice the traffic).

We got to the Boardwalk around one o’clock and decided to eat at the Aquarium Restaurant. It has a 50,000-gallon aquarium in the center of the dining area to amuse patrons while outside a steady flow of boats entering and exiting the harbor parade past the windows. We took our time savoring the views, the food and the relaxing ambience.

After lunch we strolled the length and breadth of the boardwalk, visited the shops, and watched preschoolers riding ponies squeal with glee. Kids were having a ball here dashing in and out of a dancing water fountain making feeble attempts not to get squirted. An intrepid lad was daring a Yosemite Sam type street entertainer to lasso him. The kid was actually dressed up like the caricature of Enemy of the State and I wondered for a moment if it might not be one of the Loki kids making mischief. On stage one of the worst Country & Western singers I ever heard was hopelessly “looking for the note”. Maybe she will make it in Gospel one day.

A most pleasant afternoon.

Note to self: fwd these sites to BtC and ToC to plan activities for their visit in April.

2002-02-21T08:49:00.000-06:00

Update on Dad

Dad called last night just as we were leaving for Hump-day Happy Hour at Café Adobe. He has been released from the nursing home that Tina calls evil. YAY! Dad was not amused with that place either. He no longer needs the walker and manages to get around with the aid of a cane. He can negotiate the 13 stairs to the second floor. He did it 3 times yesterday.

Dad explained his reason for not wanting a telephone at the nursing home much better than that Font of Information, my brother. It made sense. He told me that he was never in his room except to sleep. Dad’s roommate was a near vegetable who slept most of the time. In fact, the majority of patients kept at this home are extremely feeble and few have all their faculties. He likened it to that Infamous Georgia Crematory except that if you listened really really closely, these bodies scattered all about were still breathing. So Dad hung out at the Nurses Station and the Physical Therapy Rooms, anywhere he could have a stimulating conversation and keep active.

During his recovery, a representative from the other guy’s Insurance Company called him asking all kinds of questions trying to get Dad to admit partial responsibility and mitigate damages. ERROR! ERROR! Pissed Dad right off! Direct result of call: Dad made a deal with a nephew who is an attorney. The deal: Sue the RATBASTARDS for everything you can get, lost wages, pain and suffering and anything else you can think of and we will split it 50/50. Dad’s position was eliminated after the accident. He is pissed at his lost mobility. For the first time in his life he is thinking about retirement.

The old man’s got a sense of humor, huh.

The last thing he mentioned was getting a Rail Pass and travelling all over the country. Even coming to Texas. Whaddaya know, at 90 years old, my Dad is going to run away from home and become a Hobo.

2002-02-20T18:16:00.000-06:00

I'm Hooked

I definitely agree with Oscar Wilde's philosophy that the only way to overcome temptation is to yield to it. For the moment I have surrendered myself to the sirens of cyberspace and it is sweet.

Of course it is not without pitfalls. Sleep deprivation is the current price I pay and I am not alone. I run into groggy zombies like myself, who cannot simply get up in the middle of the night to turn off a droning television, get a quick sip of water or throw a slipper at the neighbor's yowling cat without logging on to check out the scene. Tuesday morning I peaked in around 3 a.m. and foolishly checked file13 for updates. Naturally there were several new entries including a link to killfrog.com. Danger! Danger! Will Robinson.

Killfrog is the kind of site I assiduously avoided before I switched to Roadrunner because it is full of cartoon animations and the load times were unbearably slow and unreliable with my former dial-up service. I was constantly frustrated. Now, sitting alone in the soft glow of my monitor with my high speed service, I was like a kid in a candy shop deciding which treat to sample next. Delightfully twisted little cartoons like Outback Survivor and Ultimate Survivor are right up my alley and I could feel the muscles in my arms and back stiffen as my legs went numb. I was entranced.

Around 5 a.m. I was Immed by Sheila, someone I recognized as NOT one of the numerous sex peddlers that have been plaguing my screen lately. We talked about Houston, pets, movies and all sorts of things including killfrog.com. Around 5:30 a childhood friend, Karen Mae, Immed (yes, even up north there are people with two first names) and we spoke about the old neighborhood and the death of her Grandmother while I was playing Spin the Kitty on killfrog.

One conversation switched to the grim topic of pedophilia and child abuse. The other conversation dealt with the triumph of child who overcame a learning disability and now faces the challenge of selecting a College. I was also watching the Little Susie Experiment unfold on killfrog. How apropos.

Around 6:30 a.m. Tina chimed in with an IM. Fortunately the gal-pal from Pa. logged off. I cannot handle 3 IMs at the same time. It is too much stimulation, especially when I am watching cartoons. Somewhere in there Miss Dixie showed up with my morning cappuccino and Tina asked if I were taking the day off. I looked at the clock and it was almost 7 a.m. Time to log off, shower up and ship out. I had pissed the night away.

This is all file13's fault. Gotta blame somebody and he is the Candy Man of the moment.

So, last night I logged on around 1 a.m. This was not a good sign and I became determined to break what might easily become a nightly ritual. "Nip it in the Bud"as Barney Fife advised. I am proud to say that I logged off before 2 a.m. and slept right through until 7 a.m. I am gonna whip this monkey. Maybe.

2002-02-19T04:55:00.000-06:00

Me and my BIG Mouth

I work for a charitable organization. We depend upon Government Grants, Corporate Gifts and the kindness of strangers to fund our services and we do a good job of getting the most Bang for our Buck. I am about to negotiate a new contract on copiers. There are several options to explore. During my research I discovered that one of our new Board Members works for IKON. I gently suggested to our Executive Director that he mention I am seeking bids on a new contract and have her call me if she might have any influence in getting us a good deal.

I was dismissed with a curt, “She is an accountant. I doubt that she could help with anything more than a billing problem.”

I countered, “Maybe she is sleeping with the Vice-President in charge of Good Deals. Ya never know until ya axe.”

Now I’m in the doghouse for being a smart ass and disrespecting a Board Member.

Maybe I have a problem with authority figures. If I do, I don’t give a shit. Is that a problem?

Hey! my Movies section now has Comments!

I know. I'm shameless

2002-02-18T12:23:00.000-06:00

eew!

So what were these guys planning on doing with over 200 dead bodies; open an Amusement Park for necrophiliacs?

Nuts-Bury Farm

2002-02-17T08:34:00.000-06:00

An APB for a COW

It was on CNN this morning. Another Cow has jumped a six foot high fence to escape from a slaughterhouse. The beige bovine has made it through town and disappeared into the woods. A posse is on an all out COW HUNT using heat seeking devices, helicopters, sniffing dogs, and old fashioned trackers to bring Bossy back. Heifer sightings made by an increduluous public are coming into Police headquarters thick and fast, but so far no luck. After getting National attention, she will become a celebrity and no dobt be allowed to live out her life on a farm somewhere like her predecessors who made daring dashes for freedom.

With this in mind, What is life like down on the farm for a dairy cow? Check out one cow's personal story: I'm a Cow.

It may take a bit to load, but worth it. Just click PLAY when the cow moos.

2002-02-14T20:48:00.000-06:00

So Ya Wanna Know What Happened, Huh?

I learned early on that Valentine’s Day is a HORRIBLE day to go to some restaurant to celebrate my Birthday. It is second only to Mother’s Day, the other day that restaurants clean out their refrigerators of expired dated food stuffs and what ever creepy crawlies might be in there. I have learned to go out to eat two days after these holidays and you will be assured of fresh food, good service and no “Slime in the Ice Machine”.

Too many people trying to recreate that special Hallmark/FTD moment “as seen on TV” invade every restaurant in town on these two holidays. Everything must be just like on TV or in the Jewelry Ads. It is a Myth! All this means is that your restaurant will be overbooked, the Wait Staff will be overworked and grumpy because they can’t be with their own significant other having an equally disappointing time. So you will get lousy food and lousy service and pretend everything is hunky-dory and later take out your frustrations on your little Bitsy-Pookums when you should be making hot MonkeyLlove.

But you know all that. You came back to hear how my nearest and dearest put the screws to me. Well, they did and it took me from 10pm last night until 4PM this afternoon to begin to see the humor in it. I’m still not jumping for joy.

Regular readers know that we go to Hump Day Happy Hour on Wednesday evenings with a varying group of friends. My friends agreed that celebrating my birthday on the 13th rather than the 14th would be best for everybody. Fine. Hump Day Happy Hour with some funny cards and maybe a token gift or two sounded Perfect. I don’t need or want anything more.

So off I go to my nice little Birthday Dinner. We had a great time at the Mesa Grill. Dick really loved those quesadillas and Blue Margaritas at the H-Town Bloggers meeting the week before so we decided this was the perfect venue for my birthday dinner. During dessert two of our friends who recently opened a new bar in town called Key West mentioned that they created a new drink in Dick’s honor called a Dangerous Dick! Since it was a coffee beverage, they invited us back to Key West try a Dangerous Dick to top off my Birthday Celebration. Fine.

It was a set-up and I NEVER saw it coming. At Key West a special booth was reserved near the piano. I got roasted by my friends. Serenaded by the pianist/vocalist. And thoroughly humiliated by a Stripper. Yes, my friends and my Sweet Patootie did this to me. On a very Special Day to me, I was the center of attention, forced to sit in a lone chair at the mercy of a Stripper’s gyrations. I was MORTIFIED. Fer chrissakes the stripper wasn’t even cute!

Strangers giggled and pointed as I was decked out in a Silly Party Hat, Hawaiian Leis and forced to puff on a Blow Tickler. I helplessly watched my friends poke each other and revel while I squirmed on what is supposed to be MY special day. I am eternally grateful that nobody brought a camera to capture this Kodak Moment. It took me until after four o’clock p.m. today to begin to see the humor in it.

My only advice to anybody else planning such a surprise for a loved one is, “fer chrissakes, make sure the stripper is cute!"

2002-02-14T05:52:00.000-06:00

Birthday Surprises
Today is my official birthday. I'm a Sweetheart, what can I say? To throw me off, my friendsdecided to surprise me at our usual Hump Day Happy Hour yesterday. And they did. It was payback time for every naughty little thing I never did.

All I can say is that I was thoroughly Mortified. Thankyouverymuch. But my friends were also completely Horrified. Surprises can backfire. And Miss Dixie probably won’t remember a thing. I do believe I have a Guardian Angel though because mercifully, there are NO PICTURES!

Oh, and please do NOT be afraid. Do NOT be very very afraid. This is NOT a declaration of WAR! . . .honest.

2002-02-13T06:58:00.000-06:00

No Road Rage Here
Surfing around my regular reads, I find that frizzy-haired road racers annoy kd, BtC has problems with any vehicle carrying ladders or pipes and file13 votes for Light Rail to remove stupid drivers from our roadways, but not in the way you might think.

I feel very fortunate. My office is less than three miles from my home. Ten minutes in traffic for me is a heavy day. That is not to say there are not crazies out there who have been on the road for more than an hour and are racing toward downtown like a Riding Academy Horse that has caught sight of the barn. There are fools out there testing the theory that traffic lights set for 35mph also work at 70. And my personal enemies; the jerks who constantly switch lanes to get maybe one car length closer to the next red light.

So I watch these goofballs running afoul of each other in their little game of Roadway Roulette. The guy in the Lexus SUV is trying to get around the beat up pick-up truck filled with day laborers, but the lady in the Mercedes in front of him is still fiddle farding in her mirror and moving slower than the truck. He tries to drop back and swerve across three lanes to pass on the right. Success! Except before he can celebrate his victory, the green Saturn signals a right turn. There is a SWBell truck parked around the corner and the Saturn must wait to make his turn. The beat up pick-up passes the SUV. We all do. I can’t help grinning.

When it’s clear the SUV guns it to make up his lost ground. A garbage truck turns into his lane on the next block ahead. The left blinker on the SUV flashes but he is still passing people. Should I let him in? Sure. Farding lady and the pick-up have exchanged lanes. The pick up is a bit ahead of the Mercedes but SUV opts to pass her on the right. He swerves out of her lane, brakes hard and pulls right back in behind her. A bicyclist is in the right lane! How precious is that?

After passing the cyclist, the SUV again turns into the right hand lane. Farding Lady, oblivious to the drama around her, changes to that lane at the same time blocking his progress once again. I give it just a little gas to prevent him from cutting in front of me. Ain’t I a stinker? I easily slide past both of them and take my place first at the light in the right hand lane.

We all turn right. I am to Farding Lady’s left and SUV decides that I am a better bet than she to be behind. He is tail-gating me! The noive! I swear at screwy drivers in a Scottish accent. There is just something quite satisfying about growling, “You’ll get yourrrrrs, ya grrrrrreat prrrrrick ya.!” in my best basso profundo.

Revenge. When I got about half a car length ahead of Farding Lady I hold her steady right there for the next block then hit him with my blinker. Surprise. I am making a left turn and must to yield oncoming traffic. SUV is stuck behind me while traffic passes him by. He is seething as Farding Lady disappears around the bend. I sincerely hope he makes it to his office without popping a blood vessel. As for me; my world is spinning on Grrrrreased Wheels, Laddie.

2002-02-12T03:36:00.000-06:00

file13
I enjoyed meeting everyone at the H-Town Blogger’s Happy Hour last week. We all had a good time. I have been visiting their Sites via my H-Town link but I have been hitting one so many times that I am behooved to link him direct. Laurence is a true sane person in a mad mad mad mad world. That probably makes him crazy. He is also prolific. If you intend to share a particular rant or observation of his, you better write down the time as well as the date because otherwise you will be scrolling for days.

You don’t need to turn to the News of the Bizarre to read about the stupid things people do. Open up your local Daily or log on to any News Service; it’s all right there. File13 merely highlights some of these articles. The following is NOT one of them. It’s just an example of a brain fart. In this case a lethal brain fart.

Yesterday our local news reported the death of a young man who had hitched his trailer to his pick-up truck and came into town for the rodeo. The weather turned cold overnight and authorities suspect the young man died of Carbon Monoxide poisoning. The man was as red as a brand new Santa Suit when they found him and there was a gas powered generator chugging away INSIDE his camper/trailer. Ethel Mae, I think them thar authorities are on to something here! A spokesperson for the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo said, “It did not happen on the Livestock Show and Rodeo Grounds.”

Amazing. Now go read file13 to learn more about your brilliant species.

While I'm on the subject of It seemed like a good idea at the time there is a wonderful documentary called Hands on a Hardbody. It is NOT about strippers. It is about the good folks in Longview, Texas trying to win a pick-up truck. The rules are simple: you keep both feet on the ground and one hand on the Hardbody. Last one standing gets the truck. Trick is this contests lasts for DAYS.

It's a psych-out your competitors endurance contest that puts any of those Survivor shows to shame and the interviews with the contestants during breaks and their supporters are marvels.

My personal favorite was Janice. Her husband was driving down the road when he noticed a demolition crew about to knock down the local K-Mart. He asked if they weren't going to save the air-conditioner could he have it. No Problema! So he carts off this gazillion BTU airconditioner that is meant to cool 50,000 square feet home and hooks it up to his doublewide. Guess what happens next..?
They turned their home into a popsickle. Yepper. They can cool their home to 12 below Zero in less than 10 minutes.

Don't believe me? See what others have to say.

2002-02-10T20:31:00.000-06:00

New Movie Review: Storytelling

Does knowing that an hour's worth of film containing a whole other plot was left on the cutting room floor make this movie more or less interesting? Is that plotline on the floor really so controversial? Did Solondz really do it to get an R rating rather than an NC-17? Or is this just part of the Storytelling process?

And what about that Red Box?

2002-02-09T07:41:00.000-06:00

Me and Rhoda Morgenstern
I got something in common with Rhoda Morgenstern. We both ran away from home at the age of 29.

It was February 1979 when I crammed my most important possessions into my ‘73 Plymouth Duster in 17 below 0 weather. It was too cold to snow. It was the fastest pack job you’d ever seen yet everything fit perfectly. Then Mom yelled out the door, “Arent’ you taking any clothes?”

Shit. Forgot all about ‘em.

I scrunched the clothes in where ever they would fit and took off for the Lone Star State. My adventure began. As I went farther south the weather warmed up enough to where it could snow. Damn. I followed snowplows through Maryland, Virginia and part of Tennessee. By Nashville things had warmed up a bit and I was singing along with the radio. Of course, then I crossed the Mississippi and traversed the flat rice lands of Arkansas. I was screaming in the car by the time I hit the Texas border. Foolishly, I thought At last, I have arrived.

Poor lil ole Yankee boy didn’t have a clue. So I drove. And I drove. And I drove some more. I did not make Houston that night. On the advice of friends who were already in the Bayou City, I spent the night in Nacadoches to avoid Houston’s infamous rush hour traffic and came into town the next morning.

The weather was absolutely balmy and the flowering trees were in bloom. I liked this a lot. Then I discovered I had allergies. Shit.

The allergies weren’t my biggest surprise. My biggest surprise was how many people were wearing cowboy hats and cowboy boots and western shirts and giant belt buckles. I was hearing names like Bubba and Skeeter instead of Stashu and Yurgi. I hated Polka Weekend in wonderful Wilkes-Barre. But I missed it now that it wasn’t there to Hate anymore. The radio dial here was filled with C&W stations. And there was no cable TV. Fer cryin’ out loud, NO CABLE TV! Weekend TV was a series of old Roy Rogers and John Wayne Movies. Where was Woody Allen! I was afraid to ask in case somebody would say, Woody Who?

This was culture shock my friends. Everybody was talking about Willie, Waylon, Dolly and Loretta performing at the Livestock Show. Livestock show? I avoided the smelly ole livestock area of the Bloomsburg fair since I was 10 years old. I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for it. John Travolta and Debra Winger were in town filming Urban Cowboy. Everybody was going to Gilley’s to ride the mechanical bull. I was numb.

Then I found out that the Cowboy drag was primarily for the two weeks the Houston Rodeo and Livestock show is in town. Trail Riders and horseshit on the City Streets were not the norm. When I learned that people led more normal lives the rest of the year, the whole idea became more palatable to me. Of course with the influx of Yankees and other foreigners over the years the “Show” part has changed: Neil Diamond, ZZ Top and Bob Dylan are headliners this year. And we got Cable TV.

2002-02-08T13:09:00.000-06:00

H-Town Blogs
Houston Bloggers met last night for Happy Hour at Mesa Grill on West Gray. This get together was thrown together at the last minute and many folks had previous committments but the seven bloggers plus the Irascible Miss Dixie had a great time. It must have been a success because we met around 6:30pm and before we knew it, it was 10PM.

This photo is from 6:30.

Laurence, Mike, Dave, Elaine, Miss Dixie, Hanna and Christopher. Robert joined us a little later.

Check out the photos from later in the evening at Hanna's site. Looks like some serious bonding happening.

Miss D. loved the Blue Margaritas and is going to suggest that we move next Wednesday's Humpday Happy Hour to Mesa Grill.

I got caught behind a Trail Ride on my way home for lunch, but for once in a great while they are having super sunny dry weather for the end of the ride. I mentioned in an earlier post that 15 Trail Rides from all over Texas will converge on Memorial Park this weekend. Tonight the air in my neighborhood will be filled with the pungent aroma of Barbeque and Chili. Tomorrow is a big Parade through Downtown and the Kick Off of the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.

Mardi Gras in Galveston also winds up this week. Decisions Decisions There is something for everyone in the Bayou City.

2002-02-07T07:41:00.000-06:00

Gangs and Thermostats
Houston, we’ve got a problem. Rival gangs are marking their territory around my office in the Montrose area. When they started the folks in this mixed neighborhood were able to power wash the graffiti and gang logos. A day later the marks reappeared in a more indelible version and only on bricks and cement. Sad part is they not only tagged the Bering Methodist Church buildings, but defaced the front of the church itself. The gang task force is on the job, but it is still disheartening to see this type activity move into the neighborhood.

On the other hand, new fangled thermostats that are programmed to adjust themselves for nights, weekends and weather changes have been the bane of our operation since they were installed two years ago. I have finally reached my breaking point with these miserable machines that switch on the air conditioning when it is 65 degrees inside or heat up the Kitchens to 90 overnight. I had one of these nasty things in my home several years ago and ripped it out after a year of putting up with its whims in favor the good ole Mercury manual model. Now Miss Dixie’s hormones control our in-house temperatures: a much better arrangement.

I’ve heard that NASA spent close to half a billion dollars to develop an ink pen that would write in Zero Gravity. The Russians used pencils.

I want a pencil!

2002-02-06T07:05:00.000-06:00

My World has the Hiccups & The Rodeo is Coming to Town

For most of yesterday I could not access blogspot. Logging on was intermittent or extremely slow loading both at home and at the office. I was not amused. This morning I found my site rolled over the 1,000 hit mark - almost as exciting as the first time I had a car odometer roll over the 100,000 mile mark. But I missed it.

I've been having problems with letters disappearing on one of my home computers. Lower case k, Upper case L and all of the numbers cloaked themselves from view as well as <. Imagine trying to write HTML without <. All the letters, numbers and symbols were there. I just couldn't see them on the screen.

My first reaction was to but a new keyboard. Wow, are they cheap these days. Then I ran a virus test and found the Badtrans virus had invaded. I downloaded and ran the "fix", but the letters and numbers are still AWOL. Weird thing is that when I view some other sites on that terminal is that entire words disappear. This morning, only the jpgs and background art showed up on TOCs new site. I logged off that machine and logged on in the bedroom where all the text is present and accounted for, but Miss Cheeks jpgs are all streaky. I think I must call in Tech Support for a complete overhaul.

The Good News Is:Redbud trees are blooming this week. Two Iris lilies popped up in the front yard. Memorial is all staked for the arrival of the 15 Trail Rides. Horse teams, mule teams, conestoga and chuck wagons will compete with motor vehicles on Houston Highways and Byways as they converge on Memorial Park for a Gigantic Bubba-Q and Chili Cook-Off and Herald the start of the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.

The Bad News Is: The weather turned cold and rainy.

I moved to Texas from the Northeast 23 years ago. Nobody told me that GO TEXAN days were a once a year event. Talk about culture shock when I arrived in what looked like a modern city but there were horses everywhere, the smell of BBQ filled the air, everybody young and old wore tight jeans with high-heeled pointy boots and John Travolta and Debra Winger were spotted at C&W Clubs all over town while filming Urban Cowboy. I'll tell y'all 'bout that tomarry.

2002-02-05T04:59:00.000-06:00

Aussie Val has Revealed Herself

Valerie revealed herself when she posted a comment on the Blorgi Awards. Here is someone we should all encourage to start a Blog of her own. Val has a wealth of stories, a wonderful sense of humor and a point of view that is decidedly Down-Under. A teacher, a molder of young impressionable minds who leads white water rafting expeditions during her Summer breaks, Valerie would be an invaluable asset to the Blog World.

Culturally sensitive, Valerie knows just the right thing to say in any situation. An awkward silence once hushed a small gathering when an unfortunate woman with no arms or legs was wheeled into the group. Valerie immediately took the situation in hand with an encouraging, “Nice tits, Mate!” How perfect is that? I’m kidding, of course. But things did squirt out my nose when Valerie told that joke. I love people who take me by surprise.

The photo is Val’s Christmas card this year. She took this shot at her brother’s home on Lake Livingston, about 80 miles north of Houston. I’ve spent many Sunday afternoons sailing on this lake and Val's photo sums up the mood very well with all the required creature comforts present. It is an idyllic spot and nothing beats the sight of a giant orange Harvest Moon rising over the opposite shore in October.

Valerie was very close to the recent fires around Sydney. Her home was spared but no one escaped respiratory problems from the many weeks of smoke inhalation. Miss Dixie and I hope everything is getting back to normal. We are very glad to see you on-line. Now if we can only convince you to start a Blog.

2002-02-04T01:37:00.000-06:00

The Sheer Thrill of it All

I've Been Blessed with a Blorgi. Now I know the giddiness of all those Celebrities when their name is called out at the Oscars, Obies, Golden Globes, Tony's, Grammies, American Music, Country Music, MTV Music, Emmys, and People's Choice Awards. None of those trophies come close to the prestige of the Blorgi and I am truly humbled by being selected for this singular honor.

I would like to thank the esteemed panel of Judge who voted for me and without whose support and encouragement this would not be possible. To all my friends and colleagues who stuck by me during the creative process when naysayers said, "It couldn't be done." Thank you for making it possible.

Thank you to Ann, kd, Eric, Shelley, Jill, Shelaghg, and the Linkmeister, for being my very first links and earliest supporters... Oh, I just know I'm going to leave somebody out, but I LOVE you all.

A Special Thank You to Tina for talking me into starting this project on a Rainy Houston Morning. Who knew that it would lead to this?

Thank you to my parents for giving me the encouragement to express myself and not give in to the pressures of conformity.

And most of all I want to thank the Irascible Miss Dixie, my life mate of 21 years, without whose continued love and support I could not be the person I am today. You are my Rock, My Touchstone, my Inspirational Muse, and an incredible wealth of bloggable material.

I could go on and on and on (without fear of being interrupted by dopey music) because,after all, these are the Blorgi's and because my heart is so full and I am so grateful to all the little people out there in the dark: the bleary-eyed insomniacs connected to the other end of my ethernet cable, the folks who look over their shoulders at work to see if the boss is looking while they blog, and all the geeks, dorks, nerds, Poindexters and anyone who ever wore a pocket protector in Junior High School.

This is for YOU!

Even if it is the most fucked-up category I ever heard of in my life.

2002-02-03T01:15:00.000-06:00

We could have used this at our Retreat

Our Retreat was a wonderful experience this year. Rather than bring in Facilitators to lead us in activities, each of us brought our own activities that would reveal something of our personalities and how to affectively promote better communication between us. In short we played games and took personality tests.

Ann made several wonderful suggestions and I will be contacting her about her prize for best ideas. However, she recently linked this simple test where you select some colored blocks and a detailed personality chart is generated in a few seconds. The accuracy is uncanny.

The short version of my results shows a frustrated genius struggling against a conformist world. Miss Dixie's says she is Nuts. It is totally amazing.

The scary part is when our two profiles are combined: Miss D's shows her to be deeply passionate about her beliefs and will act spontaneously on those passions. I often find her Tilting at Windmills with great Gusto to right some perceived wrong, or Tap-Dancing on the Ceiling over something she read in the Newspaper. That is pretty Dead On Accurate. My profile depicts someone looking for release from stress to explore my creative side. Unfortunately, my refuge from Stress is the chaotic Miss Dixie.

Stress Chaos Stress Chaos Stress Chaos Stress Chaos Stress Chaos

Come to think of it, I'll take Chaos any day.

2002-01-31T06:35:00.000-06:00

The Start of a Beautiful Day!

I Logged on this morning to find the following Private Entry in my Guestbook:

Thursday 01/31/2002 4:20:12am
Homepage Title:
Homepage URL: http://www.ed.umuc.edu
Referred By: Search Engine
Location:
Comments: UMUC-Maryland in Europe offers several field study trips. I really like your photos and wonder if it's possible to use any of them in any upcoming field study booklet? We would need high-res images (150 dpi or bigger, 10-megabyte file). Please let me know? We would happy to provide a photo credit and a copy of the final brochure. Thank you!
Rhonda Mitchell
Publications Coordinator
UMUC-Maryland in Europe

I am very flattered that my travel photos drew this kind of attention on the Web since I know there are many thousands of such pages out there. If the University only wants one or two, I'd be willing to rescan and reformat the originals to meet Rhonda's criteria and send them gratis. I am just curious to know what the Industry Standard is for providing the high resolution images she needs. Are there any stipulations I should ask for Credit they might provide?

(This offer despite BtC's aversion to the music on several of the pages.)
Go Me!

2002-01-30T03:22:00.000-06:00

Pictures of me and my Sweet Patootie

I admit it. I get a lot of mileage out of Miss Dixie stories. But hell, she is a wealth of raw material just waiting to be tapped. After 21 years (Anniversary=Feb.01) she still surprises me and makes me laugh. What’s not to love?

She is a Type A personality with an “Off/On” switch instead of a rheostat. Nothing is ever done in moderation. Coupled with her Often in Error, Never in Doubt attitude, she is off tilting at windmills every day. A simple trip to the grocery store can become an adventure in an instant as she climbs the shelves looking for the perfect package of English Muffins.

She is also a good sport. Miss D. has a touch of acrophobia with a bit of vertigo thrown in for good measure. Her Benign Paroxysimal Positional Vertigo is a thing to behold. Coupled with knee surgery the ground beneath her simply turns to jello sometimes. The first time this happened was at the Angelika Film Center downtown. We were leaving the theater when I noticed a distinct wobble in her walk. I reached out to support her but she pushed me away. A moment later she took a swan dive. Arms outstretched on either side she hit the floor chin first breaking two teeth off her partial. While she was regaining her composure, I was hunting for her teeth among the stray popcorn kernels on the floor. She was mortified.

When a simple trip to the movies can take such a dramatic turn, you may well wonder what inspired her not only to accompany me on an African Safari but to disregard her acrophobia and climb into the gondola of a Hot Air Balloon for ride over the Masai Mara. She never ceases to amaze me. Later on the night of the balloon ride, I was awakened by the sound of an animal that had broken into our tent. The whole story is on my travel pages along with some photos of me and the Irascible Miss Dixie.

2002-01-29T17:48:00.000-06:00

A Top Down Day

I was able to put the top down on the Miata and drive all around town to meetings today. What great therapy. The office was full of grim people and I managed to escape into the sunshine. Go Me!

The jonquils in the front yard are just about done blooming but white flowering trees are blooming in spots around town and azaleas are popping out along Buffalo Bayou. What a great day to be out and about. Yay, Houston!

2002-01-29T05:59:00.000-06:00

Miss Dixie shaved her head when I wasn’t looking.

She can’t sit still long enough for a tattoo or a piercing, so she shaved her head when I wasn’t looking. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I came home for lunch yesterday. There was “Precious” all aglow with her new less-than-an-eighth-of-an-inch buzz cut. Ugh.

I don’t mince words. I said straight out that it is too short and it doesn’t look good. But she wasn’t going for a look she was going for a feel. Oh Jeezus, what next?

Last month she had her mop trimmed to about a quarter inch, something like Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby. That was fine. She’s got great bone structure and can sport that look very well. But Miss D. has a fetish; she likes to have her head rubbed. This has got to be something that goes back to childhood with a mother’s tender caresses in times of stress and illness. Rub Miss Dixie’s head and she stops dead in her track shoes and purrs like a kitten. Her chaotic world stops for a moment and she is at peace.

It used to be our little secret but now she has gone public. The long and short of it is that when some people saw the “new do” last month, Glenn in particular, they not only said they liked it but actually rubbed her head! This inspired Miss D. to go the extra millimeters. She actually tilted her newly mown head in my direction when I commented on the new look. Ewwwww. I hope our friends don’t encourage this behaviour.

Thank goodness she can't sit still long enough for a tattoo or piercing. She'd be a Paisely Pin Cushion by now.

2002-01-27T06:22:00.000-06:00

Shopping at Sears

It started last week when Hector got carried away with the vacuuming. He managed to get the fringes of a throw rug caught in the vacuum’s roller brush and snap the drive belt. He was so upset, I might have thought that he tipped over the china cabinet or something.

Replacing the belt is no big deal, so Miss Dixie and I folded ourselves into the Miata and headed for Sears. Shopping is not a hunting gathering experience for Miss Dixie; it is a social event. Whereas she becomes irate with customers ahead of her who dawdle and fumble in the check-out line when her turn comes time literally stands still as she bonds with the clerk.

Therefore it was unsatisfying to her when I held up the broken belt, a clerk pointed, I gathered, paid and was ready to go. This was not shopping in her book. As we made our way to the exit, she blurted out, “Wait, I need something from this department.” We were in Lawnmowers. What the hell…? She lasered in on Craftsman Fuel Fixative choosing the Mama Bear sized bottle. At checkout she got into a lively discussion with Lucy, the Lawnmower Lady about the joys of Craftsman Fuel Fixative. Sears also carries three different models of old-fashioned Push Mowers. That was the next topic to marvel over. That was quickly followed by Miss D’s devotion to exercise and a nod to the exercise equipment across the aisle. Lucy said she could only sell those when Jesus wasn’t looking.

By now those two little magpies had gotten Jesus’s attention. We ended up going over to look at exercycles. Jesus got the whole story about the YMCA on Katy freeway being re-located because the freeway will be widened to 12 lanes or some such ridiculous number. Miss Dixie will have nowhere convenient to do her workout routine. Next topic: addiction to exercise, endorphins and its similarity to morphine. Jesus is a strapping lad of college age. We got the whole story of his HS football career but at 230lbs, he was too small for college ball. All the while Dixie was jumping from one machine to another peddling for all she was worth. With mouth and feet going at a hundred miles a minute, she was in shopping heaven.

When Jesus told her that the cycle she was currently riding was a discontinued model and on sale for an additional 15% off she lit up and gave me the “Please, Daddy” look. Yeah, Right. Nothing I ever said in the past stopped her from doing what she damn well pleased, so I said, “Get it.” No use arguing that there is no room for this thing in the house and the garage barely has room for the cars. I suggested Eldon build us a little spa when he paves the back yard. We shall see.

When she got free, Lucy came over from Lawnmowers and the exercise, endorphins, morphine connection was repeated for her benefit. The sale was completed. Of course we couldn’t take the contraption with us in the Miata. We must call Eldon to fetch it home for us. Meanwhile all this socializing nearly made us late for our Saturday Matinee.

This week’s Movie Reviews: Charlotte Grayand Piñero

2002-01-25T18:20:00.000-06:00

I am NETWORKED, Baby!

What a glorious ending to a horrible, terrible, no-good, very bad coupla days. CASA DAH-BEED has been networked. Yeah, baby!

I am inching my way into the 21st century and OOOOOHHHH, it feels soooo good. (Do happy dance) We switched to Road Runner High Speed Interneck Connection a while back. Eldon ran some FastCat5e cabling between the computers. We installed a router and networked our two terminals and we be smokin'. No giggles from the Internet Gods please, I may be mere pulsating slime in your eyes but I am evolving.

BEGONE dedicated dial-up phone line, you have no power here!

Now I just need some advice from you Interneck gods on how to protect my system. I'm being advised "Norton Internet Security " but just getting my feet wet so to speak. I have good people here, but there is always room for new information. If you have any advice on how I should protect my system, I am all ears!

2002-01-25T06:46:00.000-06:00

Horrible, Terrible, No-Good Very Bad Days

Wednesday was awful and Thursday wasn't much better. My “Comments” disappeared for most of Wednesday and that was probably the worst part because I couldn’t seek solace there while my day was spinning out of control. Shelley is absolutely right:Mercury in retrograde is merciless.

I will concentrate on the positive even though I have a painful paper cut on my left pinky that left smears of blood across the Health Insurance applications I filled out yesterday. And that was the best part of my workday, but I’m not angry.

Café Adobe was my oasis in the wilderness. The reviews in the link are for real. I like the bitchy ones about bad service (even though the service is really great in my book). Come to think of it, a former waitress actually smacked Eldon on the back of the head because he arrived late prolonging our Margarita Hour. That same waitress also told Miss Dixie that she looked like wrinkled ole Bottle of Pepto-Bismol one night. Stacey is now a manager at Café Adobe. ...maybe there IS something to those reviews?

It’s all cool though, Miss Dixie adores Stacey. Patty is our new waitress of choice, a 70/30 lesbian (whatever that is) who keeps Glenn off balance with winks, smiles and the classic line, “Oh, baby, You’re Steak!”

They have not found a replacement as personable and conscientious as Hector yet and probably never will. Happily, Hector is now working as a waiter at another Mexican Restaurant in town. We will move our little party there next week to see how he is doing. I hope the Margaritas are at least half as good.

Yesterday was just as stressful at the office, but by four o'clock I was starting to see some light at the end of my tunnel and it was NOT the headlight of a train speeding toward me, thank goodness. I slipped out of the office a half hour early to deliver some paperwork to a City of Houston Office, did a quick fresh up at home and headed to my Support Group.

Everyone should belong to a Support Group. I always feel so much better and in control after our monthly meeting. I'm feeling more refreshed today. Publishing my blog this morning is witness to the fact that things are looking up. My spirit is soaring and I shall tackle Friday with renewed vigor and plow headlong into the weekend! ...or maybe I will just sleep a lot.

2002-01-23T06:02:00.000-06:00

Imagine that!

I live less than three miles from my office and most days go home for lunch. Yesterday, Miss D. called around 10:30 to tell me the power was off at home and would be for about the next four hours. The reason took me by surprise.

There is a building boom “inside the loop” and nowhere is it more evident than from my neighborhood to downtown Houston. Entire blocks are being razed. A single bungalow is replaced by two town homes that each sell for more than the original house. There is NO ZONING in Houston. That’s right, folks, you can pretty much do as you please. Only a strong neighborhood association enforcing Deed Restrictions stand between your trees, lawns, gardens and a Used Hubcap Business displaying their wares on a chain link fence.

On the other hand, no zoning gives rise to Freedom of Expression. One of my neighborhood’s landmarks saved from the wrecking ball is the BEER CAN HOUSE. This place is like a giant wind chime and actually does the Hula on a windy day.

In my neighborhood, single-family bungalows like the BCH are being torn down to build massive two story homes that go from property line to property line. We are maxing-out this area but I still love it.

Which brings me to my point; Miss Dixie called to tell me the power is out. Why is the power out? The power is out because a new neighbor who is building on the next block does not want a telephone pole on the front of his property. He is having the pole removed and the lines rerouted around his lot. How pissy is that!

I wonder how this guy will react when he sees us pull the car up onto the front lawn to rinse it off (we water the lawn at the same time). We will probably be the subject of several Neighborhood Assn. Meetings come spring when he moves in. I’ll keep you posted.

With the power out, Miss D. invited me to lunch at Baba Yega’s, a favorite restaurant of ours in the heart of the Montrose near to where I work. I offer the link for the curious and to stimulate excitement for future visitors. It’s a unique little place with wonderful food, friendly service, blue and scarlet macaws on the back patio and a connecting herb shop. Hmmm, inviting me to lunch a week before our anniversary. Can my little Sweetie Pie be hinting at something? …imagine that!

2002-01-22T06:10:00.000-06:00

I Woke Up Way Too Early

I woke up way too early this morning and flipped on the TV. It was too early for my local news yet so I started surfing for anything that wasn’t an infomercial.

Pause on Jenny Jones. They were in commercial break and drumming up business for a future show. On screen were little girls in skimpy outfits prancing around to a jeering audience. The voiceover announcer blared something like, Do you have a pre-teen who is out of control? Do you suspect your 10, 11 or 12 year old is sexually active? If so and you would like to be a guest, call…

Hello? Didn’t Jenny’s show get in trouble once before when one of her guests got murdered? Now they want to feature promiscuous children? Why didn’t they just say, “Pedophiles, set your VCRs!” or “Pedophiles, get your tickets to be part of our audience, now.”

CPS where are you?

Maybe I am grumpy this morning because I woke up two hours early and can’t see the lighthearted fun of it all.

Coffee. I need coffee and one of Miss Dixie’s Movie Reviews. This week she reviewed:
Black Hawk Down

2002-01-21T11:04:00.000-06:00

Update on Dad

When I last posted Dad was about to be discharged from the John Heinz Physical Therapy Center in Wonderful Wilkes-Barre to Home. Dad was still in a below the knee cast and found it painful to walk twenty some steps with a walker. With no one at home full time, this distressed me greatly. Enter TOC (kisses, kisses, kisses, HUG) with a few "key" words for Dad to use when he describes how hard it is to walk and PRESTO he is given a list of Convalescent Homes to continue Supervised Therapy.

TOC didn't agree with Dad's first choice (which he couldn’t remember the name of and described as in Kingston near the Cross Valley Expressway, TOC knew the place with that description) because of a bad experience there, but assuaged my fears that Dad would be OK because his mind is still sharp. I tried to convince Dad to take TOC's advice but he had ideas of his own. He has two octogenarian sisters near his first choice in Kingston and that was deciding factor.

It was a snowy weekend and the exact date for the transfer had not been settled. I asked both my father and my brother to call me with contact information once he was settled in.

Did I get a call all week? NOOOOOOOOOO!

Does that make me crazy? YEEEEEEESSSS!

I called my brother. I got the answering machine. At least the sombitch was turned on. I was in wonderful Wilkes-Barre over Thanksgiving to surprise TOC and BtC AND waiting THREE DAYS for the Airline to call about my lost luggage. I couldn’t navigate the airlines auto attendant on a rotary phone either. They had no “Hold for an Operator” option.

Was the answering machine turned on? NOOOOOOOO!

Does that make me crazy? YEEEEEEESSS!

So, take a deep cleansing breath, Dah-beed, and continue....

I was ill-amused with what my brother considered news. #1. There is no phone in Dad's room.

OWK: Why is there no phone in Dad's room.
Brother: Because it cost $55.00 for the first month.
OWK: So What. Get it.
Brother: It’s not worth it.
OWK: It’s worth it to me. I’ll pay for it.
Brother: He doesn’t want it.
OWK: So get him a cell phone. (What the fuck was I thinking?) You can add it to my account. I don’t care.
Brother: He uses the phone at the nurse’s station down the hall.
OWK: But you can’t call him at the nurse’s station, can you?
Brother: No, but they are very nice.
OWK: So how do I contact him?
Brother: You don’t.
OWK: What???
Brother: He calls me every day at work.
OWK: Well that’s good. How’s he doing?
Brother: OK, I guess. The therapy is more intense here.
OWK: That seems odd. Isn’t John Heinz Center supposed to specialize in PT?
Brother: Yeah, but they kept making him do puzzles and he got mad at them.
OWK: He told me he wasn’t pleased about the puzzles. So how is his therapy coming along?
Brother: I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since Wednesday.
OWK: I thought he called you at work every day.
Brother: I think he lost the number.
OWK: So are you goint to see him today and give him the number?
Brother: Nah, maybe one day this week.

Does this make me crazy? YEEEEEEESSS!

Take a deep cleansing breath and change subject.

OWK: So how is his room? Does he have a roommate?
Brother: He has a roommate, but the guy is not all there.
OWK: Paraplegic? Amputee? (humor lost on Brother)
Brother: His mind wanders but he’s quiet most of the time, so Dad doesn’t mind him. He kept wanting to see Dad’s TV.
OWK: Doesn’t his work?
Brother: Only Dad has his little TV from home. Everything is extra here.
OWK: Well, that was nice of you to bring his TV up there.
Brother: They don’t even supply magazines or newspapers or nuthin.
OWK: Why don’t you get him subscription to one of the papers.
Brother: He doesn’t want it.
OWK: But he always had his nose buried in the newspaper.
Brother: I think his sisters bring him theirs.
OWK: Did you at least take him some magazines? He needs mental stimulation in a place like that or he could start slipping too.
Brother: I had some crossword puzzle books, but thought I better not.

OWK: So what is the name of this place, so at least I can try to call?
Brother: It’s around here somewhere.
OWK: You mean you don’t know the name of the Nursing Home!!!!
Brother: Well, it’s something like….

I can’t go on without popping a freaking blood vessel.

2002-01-20T03:49:00.000-06:00

Fun in the Snow

While the weather here was perfect for running the Houston Marathon, Binky and Muffy are having a ball frolicking in the snow in Kansas City. Muffy needed some help putting the finishing touches on her snow man. I was only too glad to help with some cyber coal.

Binky and his Buddy

Muffy and her snowmuffin

I just got off the phone with their mom. Kathy and Russ have a roaring fire in the fireplace and are making hot chocolate for the kids when they come in. The images in my head are somewhere between Currier & Ives and Norman Rockwell making me a bit nostalgic.

Of course earlier I talked with my brother and Tina in NEPA. He is shoveling and she is on call. Suddenly our plan to see Blackhawk Down and join some friends for dinner afterwards sounds like a good plan too. We have MLK Day off tomorrow so no curfew tonight.

Our Day started with the Houston Marathon. It may end with the Margarita Marathon.

2002-01-19T08:08:00.000-06:00

DAH – BEED, there are choos ebree-ware!

This was the lament of Hector the Houseboy his first day on the job. He didn’t know where to begin.

Miss D and I are clutters of the first order. I find my little stacks and teetering piles oddly comforting. I always know where things are. On the other hand, Dixie Louise can’t find the toes on the end of her foot without a frantic search that includes much blustering. We are Order and Chaos, Yin and Yang, Heckle and Jeckle. Take your pick.

One Wednesday night while discussing our piles over some Margaritas at the Café Adobe, we came to the conclusion that we desperately needed a maid. We were polling our friends on the availability of their help when Hector, our asst. waiter/busboy, piped in with a very sincere, “I can clean your house.” This was perfect!

This kid had seen us at our bickering best. Unfazed, he made sure we always had hot tortilla chips, plenty of picante and the queso was placed in front of Miss Dixie without fail. We didn’t even discuss price. We just asked when he could come.

Anticipating Hector’s first day did inspire us to sort through the stacks of papers, mail, CDs, videos, books, photos, receipts, snacks, snack wrappers, loose change, clothes, tools and car rags. Somehow we overlooked shoes. There were choos ebree-ware! We struck a deal. If he would start on the bathrooms, we would round up our shoes.

This kid is like the “white tornado, scrubbing bubbles and the quicker picker upper” all rolled into one. The ironic thing is that he can’t clean while wearing shoes. Or socks for that matter. Think “La Cage au Folles”. Their maid worked barefoot. Their maid and Za Za also shrieked when they startled each other. Same here. Art and Real Life have become one. Plus he irons!

I have been sending my laundry out since I discovered Miss Dixie does not believe in sorting the wash and her favorite color is red. Her gym socks are all different shades of pink and her shorts and T-shirts ultimately get little white splotches where Clorox was added too soon. That’s fine for gym clothes. Plus it reinforces the ole gal’s sense of personal style. But I must dress a bit more formally for work and I would rather pass a kidney stone than iron. I think I inherited that from my mother: just mention the word iron to me and I get irritable. Now after years of broken buttons and shiny seams courtesy of the aptly named mangle, I can put on a freshly laundered shirt that is crisp but not stiff. And those little piles of staples and color-coded tags on my closet shelf are gone.

I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship. Plus I like the way he calls me "Dah-beed".

* * * * * * * * * * * *

2002-01-18T07:00:00.000-06:00

A Day without Blogging

Only 13 days into my blogging career and my Social Life and Workaday Life has already intruded into my progress. I find it disturbing to find a break in the chain, a hole in the fabric, an entire day missing from my on-line life. Where was I? What was I thinking? What was I doing?

Wednesday’s are my Café Adobe nights. A simple mid-week gathering of friends providing a respite to refresh and gather strength… Who am I kidding? They make terrific Margaritas, the food is good and they have a great wait staff. Their only negative is they fired the best busboy in the whole wide world but neverfear, Miss Dixie and I hired him as our Houseboy. More about Miss Guatemala later.

This Wednesday only “Eldon” joined the irascible Miss D. and me for our weekly rendezvous. Chris is a Construction Contractor who built an addition to our home some dozen years ago. He has been working on the house ever since. Hence he has earned the moniker “Eldon” after the painter who showed up to paint Murphy Brown’s foyer and was still there some ten years later painting murals and babysitting. In his time with us, Eldon has remodeled the kitchen, tore out entire rooms, redesigned baths (I actually had him move Miss Dixie’s bathroom about three feet farther from the bedroom), added walk in closets and designed built-in entertainment centers and workstations. His next project is to “pave” the backyard and install an electric gate. We have not decided on the design yet. It will probably be in progress while BtC and TOC are here.

It was a subdued night (except for Miss D. who was alternating Margaritas and Merlot) and we were home early. I put a tape in the VCR and promptly fell asleep. The next morning I had another big project at the office preventing me from even peaking at my favorite sites. OK, I peaked, but I couldn’t comment. I'll probably make up for it today leapfrogging from site to site.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

2002-01-16T04:40:00.000-06:00

Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

I wonder who was the first person to look a Garden Slug and think, "Gee, that's not slimey enough, but with a little garlic butter it would be just right."

A fascinating (if not disturbing) look at 18th Century eating disorders in the Fortean Times. They weren't just dog lovers, they were The Cat Eaters

* * * * * * * * * * * *

2002-01-15T06:09:00.000-06:00

Telling Tales out of School

Did you know that BobtheCorgi and TheOtherCheek grew up with an Elephant named Judy in their neighborhood?

Judy went for walks up and down First Avenue twice a day.

We werent so lucky in Lee Park. We only had a moo-cow.

...and no, none of us lived in Africa, India or out in the sticks.

Just lots of eccentrics populating our youth.

2002-01-14T05:35:00.000-06:00

An open Letter to Hoopty...

I really like the Shave Hoopty’s Head idea for Blogcon2002. I hope it raises a ton of money for the kids. Since I’m new here this may already have been discussed, but why stop with your head?

At the event itself, don’t you think that the crowd could be whipped into a bidding frenzy at the chance to shave a Hoopty Pit

Lathering up your chest must be worth a few more hundred and I’m sure shaving those Hoopty Gams would buy several more wigs for the kids.

If the GLBT community is there, the bidding could go through the roof!

Imagine what people would pay for the chance to give you a Bikini Wax!!!

Of course applying oil to all those newly shaved areas is a must, but I think you should get to personally select those winners.

Hoopty, are you game?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

They are Messin' with Dad again

The powers that be want to throw my dad out of the Physical Therapy Facility in Wonderful Wilkes-Barre.

He is 89 and was hit by a car the week before Christmas. He has a pin in his ankle, a below the knee cast and says it is very painful to walk the 25 paces he is up to at the moment. We are talking about a man who before the accident was

on NO medications,
rode his bicycle between 5 and 10 miles everyday,
still held a part-time job doing some light maintenance,
mowed lawns and shoveled snow FREE for little old widows on pensions who had no family to help them.

There is nobody at home to look after dad on a full time basis. There are 13 steps to the second floor where the bedrooms and bath are. He attempted stairs once at the PT unit. He said the “hopping” up the stairs with the aid of a cane method they recommend is extremely painful.

TheOtherCheek to the rescue. Once again I called on TOC to see what could be done about this situation. Her insider information on the Hospital System in NEPA kept Dad in Hospital two days after the accident when they tried to give him the BOOT the first time. They ran a second set of X-Rays and found a fracture in his ankle.

I hope her advice works this time because he really needs to be right were he is. ..and like I said in an earlier post, “You can’t thank her. You can only Thank God for her.”

Dad is taking it in good stride though. He now answers his phone: “ManofLeisure”. Sounds like a good blog name.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

2002-01-13T05:40:00.000-06:00

I am one week old

Yumpin Yiminey! I just turned a week old and already I am being bombarded with requests to add side bar images, Banners, join the Z-listers, Blog.con, create multiple blogs and discuss Travel, Binky & Muffy, and my big …. I won’t even go there for now. Only BtC is afraid of what might appear on these pages and admonishes, “No stupid music and No dancing Turkeys either!” I can just see the wagging finger.

I am taking baby steps for the moment. There will be no dancing turkeys. I have relegated such things to the Ghastly Site where BtC has posted a Warning, “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here”.

That said, I will start a small side bar of Miss Dixie’s Movie Reviews. She is quite deaf, you know, and sometimes gets her facts a little skewered but that does not stop her from voicing opinions. Right there in the Theater! We started going to movies on a regular basis more than 10 years ago. Cable was costing a small fortune and all of the Premium Channels were recycling the same flicks on a monthly basis. Therefore, we dumped all but basic cable and headed out to the theaters with wide screens, big sound and stadium seating.

We are not Hollywood Blockbuster people. We are more Miramax, Independent and Foreign film fans. The little films without explosions, car chases or formula plots are more to our liking. But a flick must get Miss D’s attention within the first 10 minutes or she will be taking a $4.00 nap.

I previously mentioned her reaction to The Royal Tenenbaums and A Beautiful Mind. This week we endured Gosford Park. Oops, I don’t want to give anything away. You must go to the side bar for Miss Dixie’s Reviews.

2002-01-12T06:19:00.000-06:00

What a Great First Week

A rainy day, a weak moment and a link to Blogger from TheOtherCheek turned out to be quite an interesting week. During setup I had the typical problems installing Comments and Site Meters. Out of frustration the Ghastly Site was born. Then came kd, TOC and BobTheCorgi to the rescue. Like a team of Super Heroes, they swooped down and rescued me from darkness.

My Epiphany came on the same day gOdOfMiScHiEf proclaimed National {{{HUGZ}}} Day. Coincidence? Or is gOdOfMiScHiEf living up to his name? I couldn’t resist checking my site and returning HUGZ to all the visitors. Work stacked up. I’m talking about getting W2s out. Getting a new Group Health Insurance Policy for our employees because our Premium increased by 41%. And calculating the 4th Quarter Employer Match on our 401-K. This is Houston. Think ENRON. Think this IDIOT is doodling on a Blog Site while people’s health and well-being are hanging in the balance. Aw, fuckem if they can’t take a joke.

Like those zany gardeners on Ground Force, there was a mad scramble at the 11th hour to get the job done. I tell ya it was a miracle the way things fell into place. It may all fall like a house of cards on Monday, but for now my world is spinning on Greased Wheels.

Go Me! (I always wanted to say that.)

2002-01-11T04:18:00.000-06:00

Epiphany!

The porch light has been turned back on. The elevator has reached the top floor. And my Happy Meal once again has all its fries.
Those of you who have Site Meters and Comments can nod knowingly. The boy got his first pair of long pants.

Now, what to do with the Site BtC calls Ghastly? Put the music back ON and celebrate, of course. Sue need never go there again.

2002-01-10T08:14:00.000-06:00

Ruminations

I am getting some pretty good ideas for my retreat later this month. I will be spending my lunch time at the toy stores thanks to astone to see what strikes my fancy. I only had one rejected idea:

TWISTER

That idea came from Miss Dixie. That twisted-assed woman has spent too much time hanging from the ceiling fan. Keep those ideas coming.

Thanks,

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Hmmmm...
I had to come home to pick up some papers during lunch. I found one of my shoes in the driveway and my socks were in the guest bedroom. Wednesday is our usual mid-week night out at Cafe Adobe. Viva Margaritaville. But we were really well behaved last night. Either we had a much better time than I thought or we bought ourselves a puppy.

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TheOtherCheek is offering freshly baked cookies to her 10,000th visitor. Do you know what she does when not baking cookies???

The week before Christmas my 89 year old dad was hit by a car. He lives in Wonderful Wilkes-Barre. I got a call from my brother around 5PM who told me about the accident but he was too choked up to give me any real details about dad's condition. (My dad was actually hit around 7PM the day before, but he talked my brother into not telling me for fear I would be on the next plane to PA.) What to do? Call Tina.

Tina was baking Christmas cookies when I called. She dropped everything to drive the twenty some miles to the hospital to check on my dad. She gave him a quick physical right there in his bed and called me with her findings. There were lacerations and bruises, but he was lucid and nothing major was broken, dad does not wear a helmut. He still had ice packs on his legs. The disturbing news was that his doctor was going to release him the following day.

Dad lives in a two story home with the beds and bath upstairs. He would be in bad shape at home. Tina gave me the inside scoop on who to call and what key words to use to prevent that from happening. After one phone call that same evening using the Cheek advice, not only was Dad kept in hospital, but they re ran some X-Rays, found a fracture in his left ankle. He underwent surgery and transferred to an In Patient Physical Therapy Facility for six weeks.

He is safe and in the best place possible considering Wonderful Wilkesk-Barre got a foot of snow over the weekend. You can't thank her either. You can only thank GOD for her.

Bless you sweetie.

Still working on this site. Go to Ghastly site for comments and links.

2002-01-09T05:44:00.000-06:00

The Irascible Miss Dixie goes to the Movies

Last Sunday, the irascible Miss Dixie and I went to see A Beautiful Mind. It was a risk since she walked out on the Royal Tenenbaums on Saturday. Nothing suited her on Saturday. Maybe it was the crowded theater. Maybe it was the fact that she did not have an aisle seat. Gawd forbid when she has to sit in the middle with nowhere to put her stuff. So she harrumphed and God-Blessed everytime somebody shifted in their seat or munched too loudly on popcorn. Twenty minutes into the flick she stopped fussing and simply walked out to spend the next hour or so in the lobby.

But back to A Beautiful Mind...

I found this film fascinating in every respect and wouldn't mind seeing it again. The Art Direction is incredible and that is why any fan of the 1950s should put it on their list of Movies to see.

The bulk of the story takes place between 1953 and 1958. The 1950's kitchen in the Nash household has hints of the "kitchen of tomorrow" with its bullet shaped thermos-sized orange juice squeezer mounted on the wall next to the Frigidaire with metal shelves and flip-down lid freezer compartment inside.

Details shine through in every scene like ill-fitting double breasted suits, awful hand painted neckties, cars with velour upholstered ceilings and little handkerchiefs with floral embroidery. It's a visual feast that knocked my socks off.

Miss Dixie behaved herself on Sunday. Except she did get so wrapped up in the story that she started talking back to the movie screen. I used to be mortified when she did this. Of course the first time was watching the movie, "Priest". That flick really pricked her sensibilities. I remember like it was yesterday: three GODDAMNs, two LOUSY SONS OF BITCHES and one NO GOOD COCKSUCKERS right out loud in the movie theater! Now I know she is just having a good time and I give her a poke once in a while to remind her that she is not alone.

Still working on this site. Go to Ghastly site for comments and links.

2002-01-08T21:20:00.000-06:00

I need a winning idea

I need some help with a project at work and I am offering a prize for a winning idea. Click on the link to enter.

2002-01-08T20:46:00.000-06:00

I am Born

Tina, aka TheOtherCheek, and Sue, aka BobtheCorgi, have persuaded me to give up my last shred of a personal life and start blogging with them. I have no resistance on rainy days. I am such a weakling.

My name is Dave. I live in Houston, Texas. I originally chose the name OneWhoKnows to keep the gals honest in their posts. I have known them since the 8th grade. They are actually pretty conservative with what they reveal about themselves. I could flesh out their stories and easily provide some color commentary, but they are coming to Houston in April and are quite capable of performing a castration.

I now officially have no life. (sigh)

A Whole Lotta Nuttin'

Mana from Heaven

(Shelley is so right about making bloody mary's out of shrimp flavored ice. I may start putting vodka in my cocktail sauce too.)

(Yeah, I know it's 3AM. I said, *Everything will be OK* not Everything IS OK.) Besides, I can count on Blogger being up and running at this hour.

(the new car polishing rags have been banished to the garage)

I know. I'm shameless

It may take a bit to load, but worth it. Just click PLAY when the cow moos.

My World has the Hiccups & The Rodeo is Coming to Town

Aussie Val has Revealed Herself

The Sheer Thrill of it All

We could have used this at our Retreat

The Start of a Beautiful Day!

Pictures of me and my Sweet Patootie

A Top Down Day

Miss Dixie shaved her head when I wasn’t looking.

Shopping at Sears

I am NETWORKED, Baby!

Horrible, Terrible, No-Good Very Bad Days

Imagine that!

I Woke Up Way Too Early

Update on Dad

Fun in the Snow

Binky and his Buddy

Muffy and her snowmuffin

DAH – BEED, there are choos ebree-ware!

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A Day without Blogging

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Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

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Telling Tales out of School

An open Letter to Hoopty...

Hoopty, are you game?

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They are Messin' with Dad again

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I am one week old

What a Great First Week

Epiphany!

Ruminations

TWISTER

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The Irascible Miss Dixie goes to the Movies

I need a winning idea

I am Born

(Yeah, I know it's 3AM. I said, Everything will be OK not Everything IS OK.)
Besides, I can count on Blogger being up and running at this hour.