I don't feel good about the things that are going on worldwide. Israel, Lebanon, Syria, Iran...they're all dangerous places with dangerous potential. The behavior of Israel & Lebanon and Hezzbollah are frightening. And now, Castro is or has undergone surgery and has turned over power to his brother; he's about 80 years old and that's a time that can be dicey. What scares me most about that is the fact the George Bush is president of the U.S. ; that asshole is apt to do something remarkably, phenomenally stupid. All we need is an invasion of Cuba.
A truly benevolent world dictator may be our best option. Oh, I do hate the way this planet is turning today.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
The Unauthorized Autobiography of a Dream Interpreter
It wasn't long ago that I awoke very early one morning, long before dawn, with an uncomfortable sense that I had been having someone else's dreams, dreams that were utterly and completely foreign to me. In the dreams, I seemed to know many of the people with whom I was interacting and I 'knew' they were family and friends. But I also knew they weren't, not really. In this dream, I had the odd sensation that I was 'listening in on' someone else's experiences. On the one hand, I knew these interactions, these memories that I was having were not mine, but on the other hand, there was a certain degree of familiarity...like all these people were cousins I met briefly as a kid, but with whom I didn't keep in touch.
This particular dream has sufficiently faded from my conscious memory that I cannot recall enough detail to really 'get it.' But I do have a feeling that maybe, just maybe, there are principles of physics that I do not understand that can, when the temperature or humidity or magnetic fields of the earth are just right, cause misfires of the synapses. Or, perhaps, the electronic impulses that map out our thoughts and our memories and our dreams might be inexplicably intercepted...or perhaps ricochet is a better analogy...by other electronic impulses that, like a spinning billiard ball, propel the original electronic impulses off in odd directions, causing them to either peter out and die or, on occasion, to merge with another impulse that is in the process of coursing through someone else's brain. Hence, a dream that seems to belong to someone else.
Am I crazy? I think not. I'm not suggesting this is a cosmic plan, only that random misfirings of your personal electrical impulses (you, the salmon farmer in Chile or the software engineer in Bellevue or the Islamic cleric in Omaha) that trigger thought, etc. might go awry and, against the odds, land in the brain of a little girl who removes the pits of olives in a tiny village in Greece. And that poor little girl might have a dream in which the distinct odors of fish is coupled with an image of Michelle Bachelet on television...or that Bill Gates' retirement party is announced right in the middle of a webinar on the topic of corporate responsibility in an age of religious fanaticism...or that plans for the first Islamic embroidery class in Omaha are announced from speakers blaring from each corner of the mosque.
I'll ask again. Am I crazy? I suppose it depends on who you're talking to. And about. And who you are. And whether you subscribe to my world view. And whether you remember to pack antiperpirant on important business trips.
This particular dream has sufficiently faded from my conscious memory that I cannot recall enough detail to really 'get it.' But I do have a feeling that maybe, just maybe, there are principles of physics that I do not understand that can, when the temperature or humidity or magnetic fields of the earth are just right, cause misfires of the synapses. Or, perhaps, the electronic impulses that map out our thoughts and our memories and our dreams might be inexplicably intercepted...or perhaps ricochet is a better analogy...by other electronic impulses that, like a spinning billiard ball, propel the original electronic impulses off in odd directions, causing them to either peter out and die or, on occasion, to merge with another impulse that is in the process of coursing through someone else's brain. Hence, a dream that seems to belong to someone else.
Am I crazy? I think not. I'm not suggesting this is a cosmic plan, only that random misfirings of your personal electrical impulses (you, the salmon farmer in Chile or the software engineer in Bellevue or the Islamic cleric in Omaha) that trigger thought, etc. might go awry and, against the odds, land in the brain of a little girl who removes the pits of olives in a tiny village in Greece. And that poor little girl might have a dream in which the distinct odors of fish is coupled with an image of Michelle Bachelet on television...or that Bill Gates' retirement party is announced right in the middle of a webinar on the topic of corporate responsibility in an age of religious fanaticism...or that plans for the first Islamic embroidery class in Omaha are announced from speakers blaring from each corner of the mosque.
I'll ask again. Am I crazy? I suppose it depends on who you're talking to. And about. And who you are. And whether you subscribe to my world view. And whether you remember to pack antiperpirant on important business trips.
Burger Joints in Dallas & Chicago
Yesterday, my wife and I went out for lunch (we do that on weekends...almost always) at a place called Kelly's Eastside in downtown Plano. It's an interesting place, with some alfresco seating in front of the place (right, not for me in 100 degree temperatures). We had read a review of the place that made us want to give it a try. Everyone on the menu looked good, but we ordered hamburgers...it was just a hamburger sort of day. My wife got their Southwestern burger (with tomatoes, a chipotle salsa, and guacamole) and I got the jalapeño burger (tomatoes and jalapeños that appeared to have been freshly grilled).
Kelly's Eastside is a narrow place with brick walls that reminded my wife of some of the places we used to go when we lived in Chicago. Her comment about Chicago, coupled with the fact that both of us had burgers that were, in a word, fantastic, made me think about a place we used to go when we lived there. I remembered it as Blackie's, but a bit of searching on the Internet updated my memory...it is called Boston Blackie's. I learned that it has now become a local chain in the Chicagoland area, with five locations. I also learned that it opened in 1984, only a year before we moved to Chicago; we thought it had been around for years and years when we frequented the place during our stint in Chicago. My favorite thing was the olive burger, a wonderfully smoky flavored piece of meat cooked exactly to order, with a huge mound of chopped green olives. It came with a slice of tomato and a piece of pickle...and mayonnaise on the bun (I normally use mustard...but not on an olive burger!).
So...if you find yourself in Dallas (Plano) or Chicago, I highly recommend both places, along with the two places that got the highest ratings in the hamburger face-off conducted by D Magazine, (Wingfield's and Angry Dog), which we tried over the past few weeks. It seems we are in a hamburger phase.
Kelly's Eastside is a narrow place with brick walls that reminded my wife of some of the places we used to go when we lived in Chicago. Her comment about Chicago, coupled with the fact that both of us had burgers that were, in a word, fantastic, made me think about a place we used to go when we lived there. I remembered it as Blackie's, but a bit of searching on the Internet updated my memory...it is called Boston Blackie's. I learned that it has now become a local chain in the Chicagoland area, with five locations. I also learned that it opened in 1984, only a year before we moved to Chicago; we thought it had been around for years and years when we frequented the place during our stint in Chicago. My favorite thing was the olive burger, a wonderfully smoky flavored piece of meat cooked exactly to order, with a huge mound of chopped green olives. It came with a slice of tomato and a piece of pickle...and mayonnaise on the bun (I normally use mustard...but not on an olive burger!).
So...if you find yourself in Dallas (Plano) or Chicago, I highly recommend both places, along with the two places that got the highest ratings in the hamburger face-off conducted by D Magazine, (Wingfield's and Angry Dog), which we tried over the past few weeks. It seems we are in a hamburger phase.
Musty Mind
Last night, my wife and I attended a small party (about 15 people) thrown in honor of a guy we know who recently married a woman from an eastern European country. After more than a year of dealing with immigration issues, etc. , she was able to immigrate to the U.S. They got married in Mexico in March or April this year. It was an interesting get-together and an opportunity not only to talk to people who rarely get to see, but to nibble on interesting party dips, etc.
We took a bottle of wine, some stuffed jalapeños (stuffed with a mixture of neufchatel cheese, canned shrimp, lemon juice, cumin powder, and chile powder) topped with a sprig of cilantro, and my wife's hummus, which is the best I've had. Among the other 'stuff' we sampled: a dip made of salmon paté drizzled with watercress-mustard sauce; an interesting dip based primarily on kernels of corn; and some interesting (but probably prepackaged) cheese spreads. Not a big meal, but satisfying nibbling.
The people who hosted the party live in a house in a neighborhood similar to ours...decent houses, all built in the 60s or 70s, but nothing fancy. But, these folks had upgraded their house in some ways that made it very special. They had taken out the wall between their kitchen and living room, opening it up and making it much more conducive to entertaining. They put in a very nice high-end countertop and a gas stove, over which they put a beautiful stainless steel hood...a very modern look to it. They had nice artwork, much of it done by their son who just entered college; the kid is an absolute genius with his art. If I could afford it, I would buy some.
Unfortunately for the hosts, their house is having serious foundation problems. Doors all over the house won't close, there are large cracks in the corners and above doors, etc. We have had such problems before and know they are horrifically expensive to fix. The godawful heat this summer has dried the ground so much that we are experiencing some doors that won't close...we have to do more to water around the foundation to avoid a repeat of the miseries we experienced a few years ago.
Later this morning, my wife and I will do our Sunday wanderings...including a visit to a strange little import joint that doubles as a restaurant and bar, a place called Obzeet. We're looking for very cheap but interesting stuff to add to our tiny collection of oddities that we hope will, eventually, turn our backyard into a funky little oasis.
My mind is musty this morning. I need to take it out for some air.
We took a bottle of wine, some stuffed jalapeños (stuffed with a mixture of neufchatel cheese, canned shrimp, lemon juice, cumin powder, and chile powder) topped with a sprig of cilantro, and my wife's hummus, which is the best I've had. Among the other 'stuff' we sampled: a dip made of salmon paté drizzled with watercress-mustard sauce; an interesting dip based primarily on kernels of corn; and some interesting (but probably prepackaged) cheese spreads. Not a big meal, but satisfying nibbling.
The people who hosted the party live in a house in a neighborhood similar to ours...decent houses, all built in the 60s or 70s, but nothing fancy. But, these folks had upgraded their house in some ways that made it very special. They had taken out the wall between their kitchen and living room, opening it up and making it much more conducive to entertaining. They put in a very nice high-end countertop and a gas stove, over which they put a beautiful stainless steel hood...a very modern look to it. They had nice artwork, much of it done by their son who just entered college; the kid is an absolute genius with his art. If I could afford it, I would buy some.
Unfortunately for the hosts, their house is having serious foundation problems. Doors all over the house won't close, there are large cracks in the corners and above doors, etc. We have had such problems before and know they are horrifically expensive to fix. The godawful heat this summer has dried the ground so much that we are experiencing some doors that won't close...we have to do more to water around the foundation to avoid a repeat of the miseries we experienced a few years ago.
Later this morning, my wife and I will do our Sunday wanderings...including a visit to a strange little import joint that doubles as a restaurant and bar, a place called Obzeet. We're looking for very cheap but interesting stuff to add to our tiny collection of oddities that we hope will, eventually, turn our backyard into a funky little oasis.
My mind is musty this morning. I need to take it out for some air.
What is "Good?"
What are the characteristics of good people? What are the characteristics of good behavior? Those questions will get wildly different answers, depending on who you ask. And there is the root of many of the world's problems today.
'The Church' (Christian, Muslim, Jew, etc., etc., etc.) tries to answer the questions, but rather than getting right to the characteristics of "goodness," it sidesteps the issues by explaining the reasons for the answer. Religion seems, in some regards, to have a very low opinion of itself...instead of just offering answers, it feels a need to accompany the responses with ample amount of justification. I don't need to hear the reasons, I just want to hear the answers.
'Government' (democracy, theocracy, dictatorship, etc., etc., etc.) gives if a shot, but the answers are so wrapped up in political posturing and nationalism that the answer (if indeed one is ever given) is hidden deep within mountains of meaningless drivel.
Who else can we ask? Ourselves? I'm all for individuality, but the credibility of the answer to my question demands a collective response...a collective response from some 'body' that representss humankind. Oh, there really isn't such a body, is there? That, that, is the root of many of the world's problems today.
Great, just what we need...a new 'church' or 'government' to set our moral standards. Well, we don't seem to be able to set them for ourselves...or maybe the problem is that we have abdicated that responsibily, handing the hard questions over to the church and the state for answers.
'The Church' (Christian, Muslim, Jew, etc., etc., etc.) tries to answer the questions, but rather than getting right to the characteristics of "goodness," it sidesteps the issues by explaining the reasons for the answer. Religion seems, in some regards, to have a very low opinion of itself...instead of just offering answers, it feels a need to accompany the responses with ample amount of justification. I don't need to hear the reasons, I just want to hear the answers.
'Government' (democracy, theocracy, dictatorship, etc., etc., etc.) gives if a shot, but the answers are so wrapped up in political posturing and nationalism that the answer (if indeed one is ever given) is hidden deep within mountains of meaningless drivel.
Who else can we ask? Ourselves? I'm all for individuality, but the credibility of the answer to my question demands a collective response...a collective response from some 'body' that representss humankind. Oh, there really isn't such a body, is there? That, that, is the root of many of the world's problems today.
Great, just what we need...a new 'church' or 'government' to set our moral standards. Well, we don't seem to be able to set them for ourselves...or maybe the problem is that we have abdicated that responsibily, handing the hard questions over to the church and the state for answers.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
An Angry Saturday Rant
I am no longer astonished at the magnitude of House & Senate Republicans' arrogance and their assault on the average American. I am mightily pissed off about it, but no longer astonished. Yesterday, the idiot bastards changed their tactics on the minimum wage. Instead of refusing to increase it after 10 years of padding their own salaries nicely (which they have done repeatedly), they decided it is time to give the appearance that they are actually trying to increase the minimum wage...but they are tying it to capital gains tax cuts for the wealthy.
Their thinking is obvious: Let's put Democrats in the uncomfortable position of either supporting the minimum wage increase while begrudgingly allowing the tax cuts to pass or fighting the increase in the minimum wage because it is tied to unacceptable tax cuts.
Republicans in Congress are the most disgusting excuses for human beings I have ever encountered. They are arrogant, heartless, uncaring waterboys for the wealthy and they are PROUD of it!
Aside from being just downright bad human beings, I believe the Republicans in Congress are not smart enough to realize that what they are doing through their complicity with the Bush administration's corrupt policies and their unabashed groveling at the feet of war-mongers and the monied elite is to seal the death sentence for the United States of America. November is too late. If we don't change their minds by getting the message through to these unethical bastards right now, this country is cooked.
There is so much to do. We need to get out of Iraq without uttlerly abandoning the population that is now facing civil war...a civil war we enabled. We need to stop the bloodshed in Lebanon before it escalates into an unmanageable firestorm of war that crosses not only borders, but oceans. We need to take care of our own citizens who are being paid wages that allow them to live only in poverty and no more. We need to change the complexion of this country to reflect its founding principles. We need to build a national personality that values humanity over wealth. We need to turn toward religious freedom and away from a religious state.
This country has fallen so far, so fast. I never dreamed, as a child or young adult...or even when I was in my mid-forties, that the United States would wither the way it has. I could not imagine that the conscience of the nation would simply fade away. We have allowed a single party, the Republicans, to utterly wreck the humanity of this country and replace it with pure, unbridled greed and disregard for human life.
Maybe the "good old days" weren't really that "good," but they were, at least, not this bad. We've never had it this bad in this country. Thanks to Bush and damn near every Republican in Congress, we're at the lowest ebb of our existence as a country. We're at the second Civil War, but this time there's no fighting, only slaughter.
Their thinking is obvious: Let's put Democrats in the uncomfortable position of either supporting the minimum wage increase while begrudgingly allowing the tax cuts to pass or fighting the increase in the minimum wage because it is tied to unacceptable tax cuts.
Republicans in Congress are the most disgusting excuses for human beings I have ever encountered. They are arrogant, heartless, uncaring waterboys for the wealthy and they are PROUD of it!
Aside from being just downright bad human beings, I believe the Republicans in Congress are not smart enough to realize that what they are doing through their complicity with the Bush administration's corrupt policies and their unabashed groveling at the feet of war-mongers and the monied elite is to seal the death sentence for the United States of America. November is too late. If we don't change their minds by getting the message through to these unethical bastards right now, this country is cooked.
There is so much to do. We need to get out of Iraq without uttlerly abandoning the population that is now facing civil war...a civil war we enabled. We need to stop the bloodshed in Lebanon before it escalates into an unmanageable firestorm of war that crosses not only borders, but oceans. We need to take care of our own citizens who are being paid wages that allow them to live only in poverty and no more. We need to change the complexion of this country to reflect its founding principles. We need to build a national personality that values humanity over wealth. We need to turn toward religious freedom and away from a religious state.
This country has fallen so far, so fast. I never dreamed, as a child or young adult...or even when I was in my mid-forties, that the United States would wither the way it has. I could not imagine that the conscience of the nation would simply fade away. We have allowed a single party, the Republicans, to utterly wreck the humanity of this country and replace it with pure, unbridled greed and disregard for human life.
Maybe the "good old days" weren't really that "good," but they were, at least, not this bad. We've never had it this bad in this country. Thanks to Bush and damn near every Republican in Congress, we're at the lowest ebb of our existence as a country. We're at the second Civil War, but this time there's no fighting, only slaughter.
Friday, July 28, 2006
You Should Read This
I'm posting below the full post, verbatim, from a blog I found compelling. Despite my nitpicking about misplaced apostrophes, etc., in the blog, I found this post to be something everyone should read (posted 7/28/2006):
I Call Bullshit, Again
I know what it feels like to be shelled. I know the terror and helplessnes that overwhelms every other emotion when the only course of action you can find is to dig a little deeper, lie down a little flatter, and wait for it to stop. Because I know how this feels (and I also know that since the people of this administration pulled strings, bribed doctors, had daddy make a few phone calls so that they didn't have to go fight and would never know how this feels) I believe that for the folks on the ground in Lebanon cease fire, "phony" peace, all the things the President and Condi and Rummy and Darth Cheney are rejecting sound pretty good.
Let me explain further. If you have been in a bomb shelter for the last sixteen days, feeling the earth shake and brushing the mortar dust from your shoulders, phony peace sounds pretty damned good right about now. If you have seen the ambulance carrying your neighbor's children rocketed on the way to the hospital, you'll settle gladly for a cease fire. If you heard the news about a family from your village whose van was strafed and rocketed as they were fleeing to the mountains to get away from this onslaught of destruction, the only thing you want right now is for it to quit. The families and nations who have U.N. observers manning the posts that haven't been attacked only want to know that their sons and daughters are safer because the bombs and artillery have ceased.
That's how wars end. People quit shooting. That's the first thing that has to happen. That's why I haven't gotten all indignant about the proposed amnesty in Iraq for insurgents. It has to start somewhere, with somebody. If an insurgent who has killed Americans and other Iraqis is willing to stop doing that I'm willing to say "Good enough, now we can figure out how to make it last."
Looking for a "lasting peace" while still killing people is not the way. Every bomb that drops, every child that dies, every atrocity visited upon the captured will last and endure far beyond all imagination. The only thing that is being accomplished right now is more death, and more destruction, which will fuel more hatred and even more violence.
Only a few of our commanders in Viet Nam came to the realization that "search and destroy" missions were the best recruiting tool the communists had. Every time the Marines or Air Cavalry were sent out on "Zippo raids" to burn the meager possessions of the population another generation of hardened, implacable enemies was created. Instead of playing pieces or obstacles we should have been looking at the Vietnamese people as the prize, the goal of the operation. In the few areas of operation where that was understood Americans who spoke the language and understood the culture were going out into the fields and schools and hospitals to show the people that there was a better life available. Often times we ended up having to protect them against the depredations of the ARVN and local government. In most of those cases our mere presence was enough to deter those thugs.
Now, our leaders, to our everlasting shame, are posturing and once again, playing with forces they do not understand in the slightest. The only way for this to end is to simply stop shooting, bombing, rocketing. This is a hard course of action because Hizbullah will certainly continue with their assaults. I am not defending or justifying anything they have done. They are murdering bastards too. But, so far, Hizbullah has not been slowed in their attacks by the IDF. Maybe a better course of action might be found through the U.N. or the Arab League or somebody bringing aid and equipment to start clearing the rubble, not make more of it. We will never be able to find out what the solution is while the biggest problem is that people are being slaughtered for no discernable effect and no good reason.
If you are the one in the bomb shelter, phony peace is worth it. If you have been enduring rocket attacks, cease fire sounds good enough.
Of course, if you are a heartless, bloodthirsty, deluded Christopath who might just believe that you have been chosen to be the instrument of the Second Coming, or if you are just indifferent to the tears of the living as they pick up and carry the dead to yet another mass grave, or the screams of the wounded because your daddy made sure that you never had to listen to them, word games and platitudes will suffice.
The final thing I want to say is this. . .war's tend to take on a character and life of their own. If this is allowed to continue, it has a distinct probability of expanding beyond any measure of control or comprehension. The idea of having the President and his staff stand before us again to say "Nobody anticipated that this would happen" again is more than I can bear.
Looking for My Little Lost Blog
Late last night (or was it early this morning?), I stumbled across a really fascinating blog by a woman who lives in Eastern Canada with her husband and dog. She is an avid photographer and naturalist. I read lots of it and was impressed not only by her photography but by her philosophy.
Her blog and related websites had some beautiful photography of insects...really amazing stuff.
I intended to bookmark it and add it to my blogroll...but I didn't. And then this afternoon, before thinking of it, I managed to clear my history of web sites I have visited recently. Damn! Beyond that, I THOUGHT I had added another blog to my blogroll, but apparently it did not get saved. It's another one that I was impressed with, but I think I can rather easily find it, as it was simply from someone elses's blogroll...and I visit only a few sites regularly. But the one I missed...DAMN! I think I'll be able to find it...I'll just have to do some blog searches. In one post, she talked about how her blog got its name...it was a story of an old farm structure being burned by volunteer firemen...but I can't for the life of me remember it!
OK, I'm off to do some blog searching...maybe I will find it tonight. Insects, burning farm buildings, naturalist, Eastern Canada...this should be easy, right?
A few minutes later...
And yes it was! See, I have posted Burning Silo to my blogroll! Take a look sometime...it's interesting stuff!
Her blog and related websites had some beautiful photography of insects...really amazing stuff.
I intended to bookmark it and add it to my blogroll...but I didn't. And then this afternoon, before thinking of it, I managed to clear my history of web sites I have visited recently. Damn! Beyond that, I THOUGHT I had added another blog to my blogroll, but apparently it did not get saved. It's another one that I was impressed with, but I think I can rather easily find it, as it was simply from someone elses's blogroll...and I visit only a few sites regularly. But the one I missed...DAMN! I think I'll be able to find it...I'll just have to do some blog searches. In one post, she talked about how her blog got its name...it was a story of an old farm structure being burned by volunteer firemen...but I can't for the life of me remember it!
OK, I'm off to do some blog searching...maybe I will find it tonight. Insects, burning farm buildings, naturalist, Eastern Canada...this should be easy, right?
A few minutes later...
And yes it was! See, I have posted Burning Silo to my blogroll! Take a look sometime...it's interesting stuff!
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Where There's Smoke...
I had an unpleasant exchange today with one of the guys who occupies the office suite next to mine. After months of tolerating the odor of cigarette smoke coming through the vents into my office, I finally decided to ask that he kindly take his cigarettes outside. One of the reasons I reached that point was that an employee finds cigarette smoke very offensive, to the point of seeming to have allergies to it.
Anyway, initially I encountered one of the guy's colleagues and asked, "do any of you guys (3 of them, maximum, usually 2) smoke in your office?" He said, yes, CI smokes sometimes. I told him the odor was really driving me crazy and, worse, it was driving my staff crazy. He looked very uncomfortable and told me to talk to CI.
I did. After walking in the door and seeing he was on the phone, I went back to my office...the young guy at the front desk came over a few minutes later and told me to come on over to talk to CI. I went back over and waited in CI's office while he finished a conversation with a dentist about fillings.
When he got off the phone, I told him, as politely as I could, that his cigarette smoke was really driving me crazy and I asked if he would mind going outside when he wanted to smoke. His expression changed from smiling to scowling and he said he had a real problem with that, since he paid for his office space and he's not smoking in my office. I said I understood, but I explained the smoke was really bothersome and we would appreciate it if he would be considerate and smoke outside. He said he had a major problem with that because "this is the only domain where I can smoke." His attitude rather pissed me off, so I said "fine, I'll deal with it another way" and started to turn to walk out. At this point, CI got huffy and suggested I was being impolite and disrespectful. I growled something back at him and said I did not intend to do that, but it appeared to me he was not interested in discussing it. He assured me he was. After some superficial pleasantries, he agreed to look into getting a fan that "sucks up" the cigarette smoke. I thanked him and left.
Here's the issue that irks me; he is within his rights to smoke in his office. Despite the fact that I am bothered by it, he can smoke...it's in his office. In my view, a person should be able to smoke in their offices only if they invest in filtration systems that ensure no one else has to deal with it.
I smoked for god-knows-how-many-years and before I quit I had realized it was simply respectful to keep my bad habits from interfering with people who didn't. Even before cigarette smoking in offices was essentially eliminated in the Dallas area (in the mid-late 90s), I made it a policy that no one could smoke in the office...including me, a heavy smoker. If I wanted a cigarette, I went outside with everyone else.
Now, to find someone who runs a company that offers motivation training (yes, the guy is a motivational speaker and trainer) behaving like a simple-minded jerk really annoys me. I will give his solution a little time to work. If it does, fine. If it does not, I will file a formal complaint with the building's management and will also inquire of the appropriate legal scholars about whether I have any standing to insist that the guy stop on the basis of exposing me and my staff to second-hand smoke.
I always loathed ex-smokers who were so nasty to smokers. Now, I am an ex-smoker (coming up on 2 years)...but I try not to be nasty about it...but sometimes I have to. I have two brothers and a sister who still smoke (I wish they'd stop!). I'd be awfully disappointed in them if they behaved the way my office neighbor behaves.
I'll quit grousing for the moment...I may come back later and write something with a little more cheer...or maybe not!
Anyway, initially I encountered one of the guy's colleagues and asked, "do any of you guys (3 of them, maximum, usually 2) smoke in your office?" He said, yes, CI smokes sometimes. I told him the odor was really driving me crazy and, worse, it was driving my staff crazy. He looked very uncomfortable and told me to talk to CI.
I did. After walking in the door and seeing he was on the phone, I went back to my office...the young guy at the front desk came over a few minutes later and told me to come on over to talk to CI. I went back over and waited in CI's office while he finished a conversation with a dentist about fillings.
When he got off the phone, I told him, as politely as I could, that his cigarette smoke was really driving me crazy and I asked if he would mind going outside when he wanted to smoke. His expression changed from smiling to scowling and he said he had a real problem with that, since he paid for his office space and he's not smoking in my office. I said I understood, but I explained the smoke was really bothersome and we would appreciate it if he would be considerate and smoke outside. He said he had a major problem with that because "this is the only domain where I can smoke." His attitude rather pissed me off, so I said "fine, I'll deal with it another way" and started to turn to walk out. At this point, CI got huffy and suggested I was being impolite and disrespectful. I growled something back at him and said I did not intend to do that, but it appeared to me he was not interested in discussing it. He assured me he was. After some superficial pleasantries, he agreed to look into getting a fan that "sucks up" the cigarette smoke. I thanked him and left.
Here's the issue that irks me; he is within his rights to smoke in his office. Despite the fact that I am bothered by it, he can smoke...it's in his office. In my view, a person should be able to smoke in their offices only if they invest in filtration systems that ensure no one else has to deal with it.
I smoked for god-knows-how-many-years and before I quit I had realized it was simply respectful to keep my bad habits from interfering with people who didn't. Even before cigarette smoking in offices was essentially eliminated in the Dallas area (in the mid-late 90s), I made it a policy that no one could smoke in the office...including me, a heavy smoker. If I wanted a cigarette, I went outside with everyone else.
Now, to find someone who runs a company that offers motivation training (yes, the guy is a motivational speaker and trainer) behaving like a simple-minded jerk really annoys me. I will give his solution a little time to work. If it does, fine. If it does not, I will file a formal complaint with the building's management and will also inquire of the appropriate legal scholars about whether I have any standing to insist that the guy stop on the basis of exposing me and my staff to second-hand smoke.
I always loathed ex-smokers who were so nasty to smokers. Now, I am an ex-smoker (coming up on 2 years)...but I try not to be nasty about it...but sometimes I have to. I have two brothers and a sister who still smoke (I wish they'd stop!). I'd be awfully disappointed in them if they behaved the way my office neighbor behaves.
I'll quit grousing for the moment...I may come back later and write something with a little more cheer...or maybe not!
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
First Wednesday Post of this Week
I'm still considering going with my brother to Mexico, but my business world is arguing strenuously against it. We shall see. Kathyr seems to think I'm mad for considering it, but it's far cooler and more pleasant 'closer to the equator' than it is in Dallas. But as of now, it's looking less and less likely.
I would love to get into the conversations (except for my miserable, almost nonexistent Spanish) about who really won the Mexican presidential election. We won't have the answer to that, it seems, for awhile. Shades of the Bush thefts of 2000 and 2004.
I read a remarkable post by DivaJood this evening. Read it and tell me what you think!
Lou Dobbs continues to call Bush on the carpet for his dictatorial behavior. When will the rest of us join him and insist on some answers and some radical changes to stupid, war mongering policies?
I'm going to Toledo, Ohio in September. I was there once before; after an overnight in a hotel, I was taken to a hospital where I underwent emergency surgery. I stayed in the hospital a week. My return trip to the city better not replicate my inaugural visit.
There was "police activity" near my house this afternoon. Apparently the DEA went to arrest someone who then barricaded himself in his house. Dallas Police, DEA, and who knows else were keeping everyone away from the guy...and making plans to take him. I wonder if he is a drug runner, or perhaps has information about bad acts in the White House...either way, the government won't tolerate it.
Frozen lime juice can make pretty damn good margaritas, if mixed with the right high(ish)-end tequila and triple sec. I prefer freshly sqeezed lime juice, but I'm getting older in my geezerhood and am enjoying certain conveniences. Shaken, of course, and nice salt on the rim.
Blather. Blather. I shall cease.
I would love to get into the conversations (except for my miserable, almost nonexistent Spanish) about who really won the Mexican presidential election. We won't have the answer to that, it seems, for awhile. Shades of the Bush thefts of 2000 and 2004.
I read a remarkable post by DivaJood this evening. Read it and tell me what you think!
Lou Dobbs continues to call Bush on the carpet for his dictatorial behavior. When will the rest of us join him and insist on some answers and some radical changes to stupid, war mongering policies?
I'm going to Toledo, Ohio in September. I was there once before; after an overnight in a hotel, I was taken to a hospital where I underwent emergency surgery. I stayed in the hospital a week. My return trip to the city better not replicate my inaugural visit.
There was "police activity" near my house this afternoon. Apparently the DEA went to arrest someone who then barricaded himself in his house. Dallas Police, DEA, and who knows else were keeping everyone away from the guy...and making plans to take him. I wonder if he is a drug runner, or perhaps has information about bad acts in the White House...either way, the government won't tolerate it.
Frozen lime juice can make pretty damn good margaritas, if mixed with the right high(ish)-end tequila and triple sec. I prefer freshly sqeezed lime juice, but I'm getting older in my geezerhood and am enjoying certain conveniences. Shaken, of course, and nice salt on the rim.
Blather. Blather. I shall cease.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
A Drive to Mexico
I'll see if I have the cajones to just drop client projects in mid-stream to make a trip to Mexico. My Falba-based brother called tonight, suggesting that I go with him to Mexico on or about August 6-8. We'd meet at his place or in Laredo, drive my Mexico-based brother's VW cabriolet to Ajijic, and I'd come back via flight from Guadalajara the following weekend. Sounds like a plan! I have so much client work, though, that I don't know I can swing it. My wife is willing to indulge me, but not willing to go along. So, I have to look carefully at my calendar. I may be on a road trip before long! I hope...but I'm not counting my chickens just yet, because it may not work out.
Speaking of my wierd attitude...
I looked at a large sampling of my posts on this blog this evening. I'm obviously a tortured psycho. I go all over the ballpark and back again! Everything from impassioned political pleas for action to encouragements to try specific hamburger joints and sushi spots. I have to wonder WTF and I doing here? I know my personal philosophies against the Bush administration will not change attitudes. I suspect my travelogues about my trips to Croatia or Boston or Falba will be meaningless to most who stumble upon this site. What is this site all about? What does it matter?
In a nutshell, it doesn't...or it does. If you are moved or care about what I say, great. If it matters not what I say or you find my posts boring or contrary to your social or political perspective...read something else.
My post yesterday comparing Iraq to Viet Nam is blatantly political. I hate George Bush and everything he stands for. My post about Wingfield's Hamburgers is not political. This blog is a wierd little chunk of my life and my attitudes at the moment.
I am passionate about Mexican politics and Chilean politics...for no rational reason. I am passionate about Michelle Bachelet winning the presidency of Chile...again, for no rational reason. I like reading blogs of people who are very similar to me and very different...no idea why. If you read this blog and hate what I say, get over it...my mind may change...I may come around to your fascist, antiprogressive, dangerous way of thinking ;)
In a nutshell, it doesn't...or it does. If you are moved or care about what I say, great. If it matters not what I say or you find my posts boring or contrary to your social or political perspective...read something else.
My post yesterday comparing Iraq to Viet Nam is blatantly political. I hate George Bush and everything he stands for. My post about Wingfield's Hamburgers is not political. This blog is a wierd little chunk of my life and my attitudes at the moment.
I am passionate about Mexican politics and Chilean politics...for no rational reason. I am passionate about Michelle Bachelet winning the presidency of Chile...again, for no rational reason. I like reading blogs of people who are very similar to me and very different...no idea why. If you read this blog and hate what I say, get over it...my mind may change...I may come around to your fascist, antiprogressive, dangerous way of thinking ;)
Monday, July 24, 2006
Iraq is Not Viet Nam
Iraq is not another Viet Nam. There are differences. Viet Nam was an atrocity perpetrated, and undertaken on the basis of fabricated 'intelligence' against an Asian nation, and against the American people, by a Democratic administration. Iraq is an atrocity perpetrated, and undertaken on the basis of fabricated 'intelligence' against a Middle Eastern nation, and against the American people, by a Republican administration.
There are other differences. When the American people finally 'got it' that they had been lied to and led into an illegitimate war in Viet Nam, they got angry not so much at the leaders who got us there, but at the soldiers who were simply doing what they had to do for a cause they had to believe in...and obey orders. Today, those growing numbers of Americans who 'get it' that their commander in chief has repeatedly lied to them and has attempted to justify a dangerously anti-democratic policy of preemptive attack appreciate that the soldiers fighting and dying in this war are simply doing what they have to do...obey orders. And they understand that many, many of those soldiers really believe they are doing good, because that is what they are being told by their superiors, who are instructed by their superiors. And many of them ARE doing good...but their good works are being abused by the very administration that puts them in harm's way for reasons based in greed and adoration of power.
It's important for those of us who are Baby Boomers to try to educate those who were not witness to the meltdown of American society during the Viet Nam era. It is our obligation to ensure that those who weren't watching understand how utterly dissembling the pack of fiends in Washington were at the time. And it's important to let them know that those who followed were equally miserable; Richard Nixon condoned felonious behavior and tread dangerously close to ruining the country's integrity and credibility.
It's important to help people understand that it is one of the hardest, and the highest, obligations of those who are governed to demand honesty and integrity from the governors and to tolerate no less. Patriotism is not blind parochial adoration, nor unquestionning trust; it is pride in the principles upon which one's country is built and pride in the knowledge that those principles guide every decision of that country on the global stage.
I weep at the abyss in which we find ourselves in this country. We as a nation have allowed ourselves to succumb to the irrational blathering of a very stupid, dangerous, and self-serving man whose morals compete for loathsomeness with rapists and child molesters and Enron executives.
It's time to stop complaining. It's time to tack action. Bush and his entire administration need to go. The first step in making that happen is for each and every one of us to INSIST that people we know vote in every election. The elections this November can turn the tide and rein in the criminal behaviors of Bush and his team. For my part, I'm going to do something that is probably illegal; if you work at my company, you promote democracy, and if you don't SHOW IT by voting and demonstrating an understanding of the issues, you find work elsewhere. I'll start the petition in my neighborhood, too.
Everything I've seen in the Bush administration argues persuasively for preemptive abortion. And, despite my strong belief that woman should control their own bodies, I don't like the idea of abortion. Except for Republicans and their ilk.
There are other differences. When the American people finally 'got it' that they had been lied to and led into an illegitimate war in Viet Nam, they got angry not so much at the leaders who got us there, but at the soldiers who were simply doing what they had to do for a cause they had to believe in...and obey orders. Today, those growing numbers of Americans who 'get it' that their commander in chief has repeatedly lied to them and has attempted to justify a dangerously anti-democratic policy of preemptive attack appreciate that the soldiers fighting and dying in this war are simply doing what they have to do...obey orders. And they understand that many, many of those soldiers really believe they are doing good, because that is what they are being told by their superiors, who are instructed by their superiors. And many of them ARE doing good...but their good works are being abused by the very administration that puts them in harm's way for reasons based in greed and adoration of power.
It's important for those of us who are Baby Boomers to try to educate those who were not witness to the meltdown of American society during the Viet Nam era. It is our obligation to ensure that those who weren't watching understand how utterly dissembling the pack of fiends in Washington were at the time. And it's important to let them know that those who followed were equally miserable; Richard Nixon condoned felonious behavior and tread dangerously close to ruining the country's integrity and credibility.
It's important to help people understand that it is one of the hardest, and the highest, obligations of those who are governed to demand honesty and integrity from the governors and to tolerate no less. Patriotism is not blind parochial adoration, nor unquestionning trust; it is pride in the principles upon which one's country is built and pride in the knowledge that those principles guide every decision of that country on the global stage.
I weep at the abyss in which we find ourselves in this country. We as a nation have allowed ourselves to succumb to the irrational blathering of a very stupid, dangerous, and self-serving man whose morals compete for loathsomeness with rapists and child molesters and Enron executives.
It's time to stop complaining. It's time to tack action. Bush and his entire administration need to go. The first step in making that happen is for each and every one of us to INSIST that people we know vote in every election. The elections this November can turn the tide and rein in the criminal behaviors of Bush and his team. For my part, I'm going to do something that is probably illegal; if you work at my company, you promote democracy, and if you don't SHOW IT by voting and demonstrating an understanding of the issues, you find work elsewhere. I'll start the petition in my neighborhood, too.
Everything I've seen in the Bush administration argues persuasively for preemptive abortion. And, despite my strong belief that woman should control their own bodies, I don't like the idea of abortion. Except for Republicans and their ilk.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Weather or Not
Aside from proving to myself that I have no artistic talent (by using my newly-acquired acrylic 'starter set' to create a hideous imitation of art), I spent this morning reading blogs from around and about. During the past several weeks, I've added several more blogs to my list of links (right side of this page), including
Perils of Caffeine in the Evening and Learning to Sequence (several weeks ago) and Journeys with Jood, The Gypsy's Caravan, The Refugees, The Fat Lady Sings, Everybody Knows, and, just this morning, What Do I Know?.
I don't make the time to read every one of them every day, but I enjoy wandering through them when I can. Journeys with Jood has a posting today with an incredible picture of lightening, with a narrative dealing with a lightening strike on Catalina Island last night and resulting fire. She says 1200 acres have burned.
The heat across California and, indeed, all across the west, is horrendous. Even in normally cool Seattle, temperatures have spiked well into the 90s. Temperatures in many places in California have risen to nearly 120. I'm afraid we have, indeed, gone past the tipping point with our climate. I'm afraid that, even if we turned off every combustion engine and power plant on the planet this morning, we would not be able to recover. Some climate experts have begun talking about the potential for cataclysmic weather changes within 50 to 100 years. I'm not an expert, but my gut tells me that we may well be in the throes of one right now; I'll be pleasantly surprised to see cool weather in Texas in November.
Perils of Caffeine in the Evening and Learning to Sequence (several weeks ago) and Journeys with Jood, The Gypsy's Caravan, The Refugees, The Fat Lady Sings, Everybody Knows, and, just this morning, What Do I Know?.
I don't make the time to read every one of them every day, but I enjoy wandering through them when I can. Journeys with Jood has a posting today with an incredible picture of lightening, with a narrative dealing with a lightening strike on Catalina Island last night and resulting fire. She says 1200 acres have burned.
The heat across California and, indeed, all across the west, is horrendous. Even in normally cool Seattle, temperatures have spiked well into the 90s. Temperatures in many places in California have risen to nearly 120. I'm afraid we have, indeed, gone past the tipping point with our climate. I'm afraid that, even if we turned off every combustion engine and power plant on the planet this morning, we would not be able to recover. Some climate experts have begun talking about the potential for cataclysmic weather changes within 50 to 100 years. I'm not an expert, but my gut tells me that we may well be in the throes of one right now; I'll be pleasantly surprised to see cool weather in Texas in November.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
I'm Absolutely Certain of Something....But What?
On occasion, I try to bring myself back to reality. It's easy for all of us to ascribe more importance to ourselves and our lives than is reasonable; after all, we like to think of ourselves as important. We want to matter. I hate to break the news, but we don't. At least not much.
Those of you who have children have a longer 'imprint' on the earth. You influence your kids and you tend to be deeply ingrained into their memories. So, your presence on this earth has a built-in tenure; you'll have an impact longer than you'll be around. It will take awhile for everything you believed, everything you wanted for this world, to be irrelevant. Those of us without kids, though, must realize that we are destined for a more immediate obsolescence. There are no children to ascribe to us a greater value than we actually have. No offense intended...but you have to admit your kids probably value you more highly than anyone else does.
Ultimately, whether we have kids or not, the impacts we have on this earth and the people in it are negligible. I'd like to believe that is not true, but...faced with reality...I think it is. Granted, there are those among us who have an impact far beyond our selves. Unfortunately, particularly lately, the impacts are horrific...not something we would want to be associated with us.
So, does it matter that we care for the planet, try to focus our societies in directions that serve humankind, or look out for our fellow humans? I cannot say why, but YES, it matters. We're not important. None of us matter a great deal. But collectively we do...for some reason I cannot explain, I believe we still matter. Our impacts, as individuals, may be short-lived, but our collective actions can define societies.
If you read what I write on any king of regular basis, you'll find a surprising degree of confusion and much uncertainty among my pronouncements of absolute certainties. Take it all with a grain of salt. I use this blog to try to sort it all out for myself...and it hasn't quite come together yet.
Those of you who have children have a longer 'imprint' on the earth. You influence your kids and you tend to be deeply ingrained into their memories. So, your presence on this earth has a built-in tenure; you'll have an impact longer than you'll be around. It will take awhile for everything you believed, everything you wanted for this world, to be irrelevant. Those of us without kids, though, must realize that we are destined for a more immediate obsolescence. There are no children to ascribe to us a greater value than we actually have. No offense intended...but you have to admit your kids probably value you more highly than anyone else does.
Ultimately, whether we have kids or not, the impacts we have on this earth and the people in it are negligible. I'd like to believe that is not true, but...faced with reality...I think it is. Granted, there are those among us who have an impact far beyond our selves. Unfortunately, particularly lately, the impacts are horrific...not something we would want to be associated with us.
So, does it matter that we care for the planet, try to focus our societies in directions that serve humankind, or look out for our fellow humans? I cannot say why, but YES, it matters. We're not important. None of us matter a great deal. But collectively we do...for some reason I cannot explain, I believe we still matter. Our impacts, as individuals, may be short-lived, but our collective actions can define societies.
If you read what I write on any king of regular basis, you'll find a surprising degree of confusion and much uncertainty among my pronouncements of absolute certainties. Take it all with a grain of salt. I use this blog to try to sort it all out for myself...and it hasn't quite come together yet.
Psychotic or Scum?
What does one do when one's boss is uterly off his rocker...nuts...completely out of touch with reality?
I am convinced there must be an increasing number of people who work in the White House who are asking themselves that question. This post isn't intended to be another simple Bush-bash. It's asking a serious question. Surely, there must be people, who work for Bush and his administration, who have come to the conclusion the man has a rapidly-worsening mental impairment. There is no other explanation to explain his irrationality. No sane person could possibly believe what this man professes to believe and who could implement and endorse the policies he babbles on about.
When an obviously autocratic kick-ass president who won't tolerate any dissent slips down the slope of mental incompetency, how can his staff deal with it? Any serious questioning of his logic would no doubt set him off in a rage. Does anyone on his staff have the cajones to confront him with something like this? "Mr. President, I believe you should, for the good of the country and your own well-being, see a psychiatrist right away!" How do we, as a nation, deal with it? We can't afford to let someone suffering from a severe psychosis run the country and represent us to the world! Seriously, how do we deal with it?
I think the most significant problem with dealing with Bush's insanity is getting the majority of politicians in his own party to recognize it. Typical Republican behavior is so often almost indistinguishable from psychosis, so that they may not even realize how bad the President's case is.
There is merit in the idea that the person who comes in second in the Presidential race should be made Vice President. At least there would be a political motive to call attention to Presidential psychosis. With Cheney in there now, I don't think he cares that Bush is off the deep end; Cheney likes having near-absolute control the way it is now. Cheney and Bush may well have been on the same medications...that could have caused both their psychoses.
Maybe Bush isn't the scum-sucking, lying, murderous, thieving, conniving, power-hungry, cheating, scamming, sub-human bastard I think he is...maybe he is just crazy. How can we find out which is the truth...or whether he is both. How do we know whether he's psychotic or just scum? And then what do we do?
I am convinced there must be an increasing number of people who work in the White House who are asking themselves that question. This post isn't intended to be another simple Bush-bash. It's asking a serious question. Surely, there must be people, who work for Bush and his administration, who have come to the conclusion the man has a rapidly-worsening mental impairment. There is no other explanation to explain his irrationality. No sane person could possibly believe what this man professes to believe and who could implement and endorse the policies he babbles on about.
When an obviously autocratic kick-ass president who won't tolerate any dissent slips down the slope of mental incompetency, how can his staff deal with it? Any serious questioning of his logic would no doubt set him off in a rage. Does anyone on his staff have the cajones to confront him with something like this? "Mr. President, I believe you should, for the good of the country and your own well-being, see a psychiatrist right away!" How do we, as a nation, deal with it? We can't afford to let someone suffering from a severe psychosis run the country and represent us to the world! Seriously, how do we deal with it?
I think the most significant problem with dealing with Bush's insanity is getting the majority of politicians in his own party to recognize it. Typical Republican behavior is so often almost indistinguishable from psychosis, so that they may not even realize how bad the President's case is.
There is merit in the idea that the person who comes in second in the Presidential race should be made Vice President. At least there would be a political motive to call attention to Presidential psychosis. With Cheney in there now, I don't think he cares that Bush is off the deep end; Cheney likes having near-absolute control the way it is now. Cheney and Bush may well have been on the same medications...that could have caused both their psychoses.
Maybe Bush isn't the scum-sucking, lying, murderous, thieving, conniving, power-hungry, cheating, scamming, sub-human bastard I think he is...maybe he is just crazy. How can we find out which is the truth...or whether he is both. How do we know whether he's psychotic or just scum? And then what do we do?
Things I Learned
I have learned some interesting things this morning during my freeform wanderings of the web. For example:
OK, enough of things I learned. It's off to work I go.
- The word "avocado" was selected by California farmers because the term for the fruit at the time, ahuacate, was too hard to pronounce and was also the Aztec word for testicle. Learn lots more about avocados in this interesting web special on NPR.
- George Bush is irrepressibly stupid (OK, I already knew that). If you want more evidence, take a look at his gaff in trying to coax Angela Merkel into his bedroom.
- At the Mercosur Summit, which is just starting in Cordoba, Argentina, the issues they will discuss are important, despite the fact that the U.S. will not be there to direct them. How novel, countries that don't need U.S. imperial instruction.
- Condi Rice is a heartless bitch, who's more interested in pit-bull diplomacy than treating innocent civilians humanely. Bush's bitch says a cease-fire in Lebanon would be a 'false promise.' Sure, Condi, let them kill a few hundred more on both sides of the border...we wouldn't want to make any false promises, would we?
- The counterpoint to Condi & company can be found in places like Animal Rescue, Inc., which operates two pet rescue facilities in Maryland and Pennsylvania. They're good people, I think.
OK, enough of things I learned. It's off to work I go.
Friday, July 21, 2006
More Japanese Food
As we are wont to do on Friday evenings, my wife and I went out for an early dinner. Even if the places we plan to go rarely have Friday crowds, we make it early, just to be on the safe side. We (and especially I) hate waiting in lines at restaurants. I'm just an impatient eater, I suppose.
Well, tonight we went to a little Japanese place that we've intended to visit for years. The restaurant is on the edge of a strip shopping center that has become the go-to place for all things Indian in the town of Richardson, which is just east of us. There are some wonderful Indian eateries there, mostly jammed with Indians, Pakistanis, and others from the subcontinent. Lots of high-tech folks who made the move to the U.S. to take advantage of higher salaries, a better quality of life (at least in some ways), and a place that can seem almost like home to them.
The little Japanese place (Masima) is adjacent to a dry-cleaners, which is adjacent to a Pep Boys or some such auto parts store. It is utterly unimpressive from the outside, but inside it is very different from most places in these parts. Most of the seating is in very low 'booths' with benches fitted with seat pads made of wicker. There are a few tables, as well, and a small side-room is fitted with even lower tables and soft pillows on the floor for seats. There is a sushi bar at the rear of the place. Tonight, the sushi chef and a customer were whooping it up, laughing loudly at what I assume were jokes or stories told in Japanese. The sushi looked good, but we opted for off-the-menu items. We ordered starteers. I asked for edamame; unlike the last batch we had, this was very highly spiced with what the menu called Japanese dark pepper flakes. My wife ordered potstickers. We did not realize the meals we ordered came with small salads and miso soup, so we did not need appetizers, but we got them anyway.
For the main dish, my wife ordered a salmon dish that came with shrimp tempura. I ordered barbequed freshwater eel that came in a laquer box atop a mass of white rice that had been drenched with a sauce of unknown origins. My wife encouraged me to also order the 'green mussel dynamite' because she knows how much I like mussels and she assumed it was a small dish. I ordered it.
Had we been in a typical American restaurant, the amount of food we ordered would have translated into sufficient volume to fill the bed of a pickup truck. Fortunately, the Japanese seem to have a better sense of proportion...although I did have too much.
Everything was very good. My least favorite was the freshwater eel, which was far more 'powerful' than I am used to...and there was far more volume. My favorite had to be the mussels...they were outstanding, but I could not understand the 'dynamite' reference, as they were not spicy hot.
We decided that this little place is really a neighborhood spot. Several people who came in were obviously known to the staff and the people who, I presume, are owners. They were greeted warmly and obviously were regulars. It's not a place that is apt to draw people in unless they hear about it from others. I don't think the place does much advertising, though they do get listed in the American Airlines dining program to which my wife somehow got us linked.
Tomorrow, it's back to the office. Too many days away in recent months have given rise to large piles of paper that beg to be put away or recycled, but I must figure out what is what first. This weekend will be one spent making my office a place I can bring clients and not be embarrassed. Oh what fun!
Well, tonight we went to a little Japanese place that we've intended to visit for years. The restaurant is on the edge of a strip shopping center that has become the go-to place for all things Indian in the town of Richardson, which is just east of us. There are some wonderful Indian eateries there, mostly jammed with Indians, Pakistanis, and others from the subcontinent. Lots of high-tech folks who made the move to the U.S. to take advantage of higher salaries, a better quality of life (at least in some ways), and a place that can seem almost like home to them.
The little Japanese place (Masima) is adjacent to a dry-cleaners, which is adjacent to a Pep Boys or some such auto parts store. It is utterly unimpressive from the outside, but inside it is very different from most places in these parts. Most of the seating is in very low 'booths' with benches fitted with seat pads made of wicker. There are a few tables, as well, and a small side-room is fitted with even lower tables and soft pillows on the floor for seats. There is a sushi bar at the rear of the place. Tonight, the sushi chef and a customer were whooping it up, laughing loudly at what I assume were jokes or stories told in Japanese. The sushi looked good, but we opted for off-the-menu items. We ordered starteers. I asked for edamame; unlike the last batch we had, this was very highly spiced with what the menu called Japanese dark pepper flakes. My wife ordered potstickers. We did not realize the meals we ordered came with small salads and miso soup, so we did not need appetizers, but we got them anyway.
For the main dish, my wife ordered a salmon dish that came with shrimp tempura. I ordered barbequed freshwater eel that came in a laquer box atop a mass of white rice that had been drenched with a sauce of unknown origins. My wife encouraged me to also order the 'green mussel dynamite' because she knows how much I like mussels and she assumed it was a small dish. I ordered it.
Had we been in a typical American restaurant, the amount of food we ordered would have translated into sufficient volume to fill the bed of a pickup truck. Fortunately, the Japanese seem to have a better sense of proportion...although I did have too much.
Everything was very good. My least favorite was the freshwater eel, which was far more 'powerful' than I am used to...and there was far more volume. My favorite had to be the mussels...they were outstanding, but I could not understand the 'dynamite' reference, as they were not spicy hot.
We decided that this little place is really a neighborhood spot. Several people who came in were obviously known to the staff and the people who, I presume, are owners. They were greeted warmly and obviously were regulars. It's not a place that is apt to draw people in unless they hear about it from others. I don't think the place does much advertising, though they do get listed in the American Airlines dining program to which my wife somehow got us linked.
Tomorrow, it's back to the office. Too many days away in recent months have given rise to large piles of paper that beg to be put away or recycled, but I must figure out what is what first. This weekend will be one spent making my office a place I can bring clients and not be embarrassed. Oh what fun!
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Kitchen Sisters Texas
Living is Texas has its punishments, like discovering that scalding air is enveloping one's body upon exiting a building. Texas über-Summer.
I discovered today that living here has its perquisites, as well. While listening the the local NPR station at noon today, I heard the Kitchen sisters (Davia Nelson and Nikki Silva) being interviewed by our local talk show host. They were talking about their new project, Hidden Kitchens Texas. That's wonderful! I really enjoyed Hidden Kitchens...so much so that I got the companion book for Christmas. I learned today about a fine-dining restaurant in Fort Worth that is behind a gas station...part of the same business. And I learned about a Mexican restaurant in a Fort Worth woman's home...she got her place "grandfathered" in when the laws changed to prohibit restaurants in homes. Lots of callers were on the program today, talking about unique places that got my interest up! I got inspired and sent an email, offering to do anything they need, without pay, just to be a part of the project...no response yet. (I did have to qualify it...only when I have free time.)
So, there's a reason to celebrate. I can look forward to a Texas-focused Hidden Kitchens series. Since I'm in Texas, the chances I'll get to experience some of these places is relatively high. Yippee!
I discovered today that living here has its perquisites, as well. While listening the the local NPR station at noon today, I heard the Kitchen sisters (Davia Nelson and Nikki Silva) being interviewed by our local talk show host. They were talking about their new project, Hidden Kitchens Texas. That's wonderful! I really enjoyed Hidden Kitchens...so much so that I got the companion book for Christmas. I learned today about a fine-dining restaurant in Fort Worth that is behind a gas station...part of the same business. And I learned about a Mexican restaurant in a Fort Worth woman's home...she got her place "grandfathered" in when the laws changed to prohibit restaurants in homes. Lots of callers were on the program today, talking about unique places that got my interest up! I got inspired and sent an email, offering to do anything they need, without pay, just to be a part of the project...no response yet. (I did have to qualify it...only when I have free time.)
So, there's a reason to celebrate. I can look forward to a Texas-focused Hidden Kitchens series. Since I'm in Texas, the chances I'll get to experience some of these places is relatively high. Yippee!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
A Cold Blooded Acquaintance
I had lunch today with a guy who learned about a week ago that he's being fired. His employer is keeping him on until the end of the month and then will give him 3 months severance pay. I can't vouch for all his skills, but I know he is saavy about office technology, financial management, magazine layout and design, and has experience managing all those area. He has three characteristics that, I can't help but think, contributed to the most recent firing and his history of getting the axe.
He is, I should mention, on his second go-round as chief executive of the organization that just fired him. He held the same position before and got fired from it before.
These three characteristics? First, he is an inveterate name-dropper...he knows this senator and that senator and the local mayor, etc., etc., ad infinitum. Name-dropping has never been high on my list of positive character traits. Second, he makes a point of talking almost reverently, about his own accomplishments and his own skills. That, to me, suggests someone who has deep doubts about his own worth and value. In the right circumstances, and in small doses, self-aggrandisement is a smart move; in other circumstances, it is deadly. Third, and finally, he is an avowed, deep-in-the-soul Republican. While that probably contributes to his rapport with some of the boards with which he has worked, it can't always be wise, not even in Texas.
After meeting with him today, I left with a sense of sadness about the guy. He's about 60 and will have a tough time getting situated. He just remarried (about a year after his first wife died), this time to a woman from Eastern Europe, a woman he met in an online dating service. I'm skeptical, but hope it was for all the right reasons for both of them. What makes me feel so bad, though, is that this is a guy who probably has decent skills and is capable in many ways, but his own traits make it hard to be able to, or even to want to, help him. Perhaps the most problematic for me: his political point of view. I have reached the point at which I simply can no longer forgive blind, and emphatically vocal, support for the Bush administration and its tragic destruction of this country's hopes for the future. People who are vocal Bush supporters now, after all we have seen and heard from him and his henchmen, are simply not bright enough or human enough to warrant my pity.
I have such mixed emotions. The guy is standing near the precipice and needs a hand. But I see faults that make me understand the possible reasons for his termination and I see in him a world-view that doesn't give a damn about most of the world. As much as I'm inclined to help people who are down and out, he's on his own.
He is, I should mention, on his second go-round as chief executive of the organization that just fired him. He held the same position before and got fired from it before.
These three characteristics? First, he is an inveterate name-dropper...he knows this senator and that senator and the local mayor, etc., etc., ad infinitum. Name-dropping has never been high on my list of positive character traits. Second, he makes a point of talking almost reverently, about his own accomplishments and his own skills. That, to me, suggests someone who has deep doubts about his own worth and value. In the right circumstances, and in small doses, self-aggrandisement is a smart move; in other circumstances, it is deadly. Third, and finally, he is an avowed, deep-in-the-soul Republican. While that probably contributes to his rapport with some of the boards with which he has worked, it can't always be wise, not even in Texas.
After meeting with him today, I left with a sense of sadness about the guy. He's about 60 and will have a tough time getting situated. He just remarried (about a year after his first wife died), this time to a woman from Eastern Europe, a woman he met in an online dating service. I'm skeptical, but hope it was for all the right reasons for both of them. What makes me feel so bad, though, is that this is a guy who probably has decent skills and is capable in many ways, but his own traits make it hard to be able to, or even to want to, help him. Perhaps the most problematic for me: his political point of view. I have reached the point at which I simply can no longer forgive blind, and emphatically vocal, support for the Bush administration and its tragic destruction of this country's hopes for the future. People who are vocal Bush supporters now, after all we have seen and heard from him and his henchmen, are simply not bright enough or human enough to warrant my pity.
I have such mixed emotions. The guy is standing near the precipice and needs a hand. But I see faults that make me understand the possible reasons for his termination and I see in him a world-view that doesn't give a damn about most of the world. As much as I'm inclined to help people who are down and out, he's on his own.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Mood Makes Blogging Inappropriate
Nothing to report today. My mood isn't particularly jovial, so I will leave it at that. If I blog, it will be later, when my mood changes considerably.
Monday, July 17, 2006
Mexican Votes
A protest today in Mexico City brought more than 1 million people to the Zocalo, Mexico City's central square. They were there insisting on a recount of the votes cast in the presidential race that pitted Andrés Manuel López Obrador against Felipe Calderón. While López Obrador appears to have lost by about 244,000 votes in an election in which 41 million votes were cast, the protestors want proof. They do not want Calderón sworn in as President if, indeed, López Obrador won. From what I have read, Calderón opposed a recount, while López Obrador insists on it. I cannot imagine why a recount would not be done, given the closeness of the vote. López Obrador may well come out with fewer votes than his opponent; if Calderón is devoted to democracy, he should not object.
I support a recount. Whoever is shown to be the winner should take power.
An aside: The Guadalajara Reporters seems, to me, to have a political agenda that is more in line with Calderón than with López Obrador. Normally, that would not bother me, if the agenda tainted only editorial comments. But I think I see evidence of it influencing 'news' coverage.
I support a recount. Whoever is shown to be the winner should take power.
An aside: The Guadalajara Reporters seems, to me, to have a political agenda that is more in line with Calderón than with López Obrador. Normally, that would not bother me, if the agenda tainted only editorial comments. But I think I see evidence of it influencing 'news' coverage.
There's work, and there's politics. Maybe I should turn to religion...oh...no!
I was back at work today, grumping along and failing to shake my annoyance at needing to keep working at the age of 52+ despite my keen interest in retiring early to a life of free choice and financial independence.
There were many phone calls, many mindless email messages, many things that someone considered important but that I considered interruptions and no more. The day plodded along like an arthritic tortoise, focusing attention on every excruciating detail of the actions involved in getting from the start of the workday to the distant end.
It was a Monday of immense proportions. My Mondays should involve weekend endeavors. That's my perspective, anyway. I read a bit, sometime during the epoch that began early this morning, about achieving financial independence in seven years. Some guy who has achieve financial independence by writing books about financial independence apparently needed cash to buy a real estate development in Costa Rica, so he wrote a book about it. I should do that. Find something I want desperately (a craving that others no doubt share), write a book about how to achieve it, then sell the book for lots of money...thereby achieving the means to attain my dream. Amway on steroids, I think.
Yesterday, I squandered more than $50 on something I have long "wished" for, but which I could never justify. I bought an acrylic artist's "starter kit" which includes paint, jesso, a couple of brushes, etc. and I bought some canvasses. Since I was a very young kid, I have always loved the idea of painting, sculpting, etc. When I was much younger, I tried my hand at pottery, sculpture, painting, drawing, etc., only to realize I have no skill. But I have always wanted to keep doing it. I supposed I have this idea that, someday, my hidden talent will burst forth. Anyway, I finally succumbed to this desire. I have tried to remember just how long I have been wanting to buy these things...and I go back to a time before I was married. So, it's been at least 26 years, probably considerably longer. I'm not putting it off any longer! I have paint, I have a brush, I have a canvass. Next time the mood strikes me, I will have the tools!
I try to write...putter, play at it, then decide I have inadequate skill and do it only to satisfy myself. I suppose I will do the same with painting...putter, play at it, then decide I will do it only to satisfy myself. That's an expensive self-satisfaction process!
OK, now to politics. I am a deep, deep skeptic. Bush & company desperately needed something to take the public's mind off their ineptitude and bungling. What happens? Let's look at Israel and Lebanon! I know, it's beyond comprehension that the current crisis in the Middle East could have been manufactured as a political favor to Bush. But then it's not too far-fetched, after all. The Middle Eastern issues could contribute to many gestapo-based Bush ideas. I do not trust him, anyone in his administration, and 99% of the House and Senate. We're regularly lied to and I don't doubt lies are being fed to us today. Maybe the current crisis is not an exercise in manipulation...but I think it probably is. Damn Bush, damn the people who stole and ruined ballots to get him into office and keep him there.
There were many phone calls, many mindless email messages, many things that someone considered important but that I considered interruptions and no more. The day plodded along like an arthritic tortoise, focusing attention on every excruciating detail of the actions involved in getting from the start of the workday to the distant end.
It was a Monday of immense proportions. My Mondays should involve weekend endeavors. That's my perspective, anyway. I read a bit, sometime during the epoch that began early this morning, about achieving financial independence in seven years. Some guy who has achieve financial independence by writing books about financial independence apparently needed cash to buy a real estate development in Costa Rica, so he wrote a book about it. I should do that. Find something I want desperately (a craving that others no doubt share), write a book about how to achieve it, then sell the book for lots of money...thereby achieving the means to attain my dream. Amway on steroids, I think.
Yesterday, I squandered more than $50 on something I have long "wished" for, but which I could never justify. I bought an acrylic artist's "starter kit" which includes paint, jesso, a couple of brushes, etc. and I bought some canvasses. Since I was a very young kid, I have always loved the idea of painting, sculpting, etc. When I was much younger, I tried my hand at pottery, sculpture, painting, drawing, etc., only to realize I have no skill. But I have always wanted to keep doing it. I supposed I have this idea that, someday, my hidden talent will burst forth. Anyway, I finally succumbed to this desire. I have tried to remember just how long I have been wanting to buy these things...and I go back to a time before I was married. So, it's been at least 26 years, probably considerably longer. I'm not putting it off any longer! I have paint, I have a brush, I have a canvass. Next time the mood strikes me, I will have the tools!
I try to write...putter, play at it, then decide I have inadequate skill and do it only to satisfy myself. I suppose I will do the same with painting...putter, play at it, then decide I will do it only to satisfy myself. That's an expensive self-satisfaction process!
OK, now to politics. I am a deep, deep skeptic. Bush & company desperately needed something to take the public's mind off their ineptitude and bungling. What happens? Let's look at Israel and Lebanon! I know, it's beyond comprehension that the current crisis in the Middle East could have been manufactured as a political favor to Bush. But then it's not too far-fetched, after all. The Middle Eastern issues could contribute to many gestapo-based Bush ideas. I do not trust him, anyone in his administration, and 99% of the House and Senate. We're regularly lied to and I don't doubt lies are being fed to us today. Maybe the current crisis is not an exercise in manipulation...but I think it probably is. Damn Bush, damn the people who stole and ruined ballots to get him into office and keep him there.
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Wingfield's
I have never seen a larger hamburger, nor have I ever seen more meat on a grill at one time. Wingfield's in Dallas is bizarre. It's designed to impress, annoy, astonish, or petrify. It does all of them well.
It is a place for take-out only. We did not know that. We visited because we were in the neighborhood and because D magazine said it was the best burger place in Dallas. We decided to check it out. Really, a joint in the danger zone in Dallas (that is, the area of Dallas that is predominantly black, poor, and uncool by super-white standards) that has the best burger? Bullshit! No way! But we decided to try.
After wandering through a junk yard in the general vicinity (it was wild-crazy fun, me says!), we drove through the ugly streets of Dallas and found Wingfield's. It's in an area that one can easily interpret to be an uncomfortable area. I'm a white guy. I am OK with calling it that. People in the area are, for the most part, poor. And they are black. Or hispanic. Or without specific backgrounds, but poor anyway. Anyway, Wingfields's is an interesting place! It is take-out only. We did not know. We learned. And the menu is rather limited. Basically, you order burgers. You can get fries and onion rings, but you go to the place for burgers. They have doubles and triples on the menu, but they discourage ordering them. Another white group followed us in and the college-age guy ordered a double. The black woman asked if he was sure; she suggested to him he didn't really want that much meat. He backed off, which was a smart choice, we discovered. They have a triple on the menu. It must be something akin to eating a statue of ones self, but instead of marble, it's made of beef. My god, the amount of beef they cook for a single burger is phenomenol! I believe it must be a half pound, at least!
Anyway, when we finally got ours, we were delighted to be able to leave the place...outside, the temperature was only 102, while I am certain it was 119 inside and it was downright humid indoors! We wandered several blocks and found a Bank of America parking lot that looked friendly to us...so we stopped and ate our megaburgers! They tasted wonderful! But we want the place to build a patio. They are probably reeling from being named best burger in Dallas. It's a tiny little join in southeast Dallas, designed to serve a tiny poor clientele. Now, well-off Dallasites are visiting. It must be tough! But I hope they're bringing in the bread!
It is a place for take-out only. We did not know that. We visited because we were in the neighborhood and because D magazine said it was the best burger place in Dallas. We decided to check it out. Really, a joint in the danger zone in Dallas (that is, the area of Dallas that is predominantly black, poor, and uncool by super-white standards) that has the best burger? Bullshit! No way! But we decided to try.
After wandering through a junk yard in the general vicinity (it was wild-crazy fun, me says!), we drove through the ugly streets of Dallas and found Wingfield's. It's in an area that one can easily interpret to be an uncomfortable area. I'm a white guy. I am OK with calling it that. People in the area are, for the most part, poor. And they are black. Or hispanic. Or without specific backgrounds, but poor anyway. Anyway, Wingfields's is an interesting place! It is take-out only. We did not know. We learned. And the menu is rather limited. Basically, you order burgers. You can get fries and onion rings, but you go to the place for burgers. They have doubles and triples on the menu, but they discourage ordering them. Another white group followed us in and the college-age guy ordered a double. The black woman asked if he was sure; she suggested to him he didn't really want that much meat. He backed off, which was a smart choice, we discovered. They have a triple on the menu. It must be something akin to eating a statue of ones self, but instead of marble, it's made of beef. My god, the amount of beef they cook for a single burger is phenomenol! I believe it must be a half pound, at least!
Anyway, when we finally got ours, we were delighted to be able to leave the place...outside, the temperature was only 102, while I am certain it was 119 inside and it was downright humid indoors! We wandered several blocks and found a Bank of America parking lot that looked friendly to us...so we stopped and ate our megaburgers! They tasted wonderful! But we want the place to build a patio. They are probably reeling from being named best burger in Dallas. It's a tiny little join in southeast Dallas, designed to serve a tiny poor clientele. Now, well-off Dallasites are visiting. It must be tough! But I hope they're bringing in the bread!
An Eye-Opening Experience
We are the proud owners of two hopelessly damaged and tired old windows, one that miraculously still has all its panes of glass, the other which is missing not only all its glass, but some of its structure. They're precisely what I had in mind. Old wooden windows that, with a bit of paint & whimsy, can be made into points of interest for what I hope will evolve into a funky & inviting backyard.
I could have spend days and enormous sums of money at the Orr-Reed Wrecking Company salvage yard, if I had time and money to spend.
Orr-Reed Wrecking Company is in the dark-side of Dallas, a part of the city that the people in city hall and the folks who foster tourism avoid talking about. It is an area gripped by horrendous poverty. People in that part of Dallas eke out a living by selling scrap metal and found items or working for people who do. In that dark-side of Dallas, homeless and almost-homeless people make do with what they can scrape from the streets. There's no doubt a fair amount of drug dealing down there, as well, but I think that it's populated primarily by people who are just deeply down on their luck or who never had a chance. They're people who have learning disabilities, alcohol dependencies, or drug addictions. Or, they're people who didn't have the chance to get an education or who decided, after looking at their options, they would rather not mold themselves around the expectations of a society that discounts large segments of its population. This part of Dallas is home to people who I can't understand because I've never experienced what they have experienced. I'd like to understand what their lives are like, but I'm not willing to voluntarily go through what they go through to experience it. Understanding is important to me, but I guess it's not important enough for me to make the kind of sacrifice I would need to make to achieve it.
Most people I know would be uncomfortable wandering through Orr-Reed Wrecking Company. I have to admit that I was uncomfortable the first time I went there...and maybe still am to some extent. The people who work there define diversity.
Aside from the black men in dirty white t-shirts who stream back and forth across the street in front of the building and the Mexican workers who scurry around like ants from building to building, the first person I see who is connected to the business is a middle-aged white guy, smoking a cigarette and smiling behind the front desk. He's there as you enter the front door of the decrepit, ranshackle old building that looks for all the world like it is about to collapse around you.
The next person is a black man, probably in his twenties or thirties, smiling widely to reveal only a few teeth, his arms bent and small, victims of a birth defect. The birth defect notwithstanding, he has an amazing prowess at thumbing through a pad of paper to find whatever it is the customer to whom he is talking wanted. He's pleasant and seems completely oblivious to the fact that his appearance might be jolting to people like me, people who don't often see the crustier side of our nice, comfortable worlds.
As we wander out back, in the open-air behind the building, we encounter several more Mexican men, Spanish speakers all, who are busily engaged in jobs like pulling nails from old boards and stacking the boards neatly into shelves that I can only describe as the sort I used to see in old lumber yards when I would travel around with my father. These are not the Home Depot metal mega-shelves; these are shelves that are made of the very lumber they are meant to hold and they are solid as a rock. Beneath the stacks of boards, on the face of the shelves, the nominal sizes of the boards are marked in dark permanent markers.
There are more black men, each of whom seems to have a job to do, scurrying all around the salvage yard. Everyone seems to have responsibilities in specific sections...a vast area of doors of every type, size, and description has its group, the windows section, full of wooden, metal, plastic, and combination windows in every size and condition has its group, and so on.
I remember from visiting the place years ago that open-toed shoes are inappropriate here. There's too much broken glass and sharp metal protuberances and too many nails and other sharp objects laying around to risk walking in open-toed shoes. Before going to the place, I advised my wife to put on something beside sandals.
We wandered through the place and found some windows I wanted, but I did not recall what to do with them...they were not priced, but I did not recall how to get them priced or who to ask. I set them aside and we wandered through the rest of the place, taking it all in. Then, I went back inside where the nice white guy was smoking and he asked if I had seen Alberto...not knowing who Alberto was, I said I did not know. He said Alberto was a Mexican guy in a white cowboy hat; the white guy led me outside, where he quickly found Alberto and told Alberto that I needed some windows priced. I led Alberto to the windows and he offered a price almost as a question...but I considered it fair and did not attempt to negotiate, I just said "that's fair, I'll buy them" and he picked them up and walked out the front gate and asked, in a very heavy accent, whether the truck he was standing in front of was mine. I explained that I only had my car, but I thought they would fit in the trunk. After some adjustments, they did, and I thanked Alberto, who walked back through the gate where I had first seen him. I then went back in the front door of the place and explained to nice white guy that Alberto gave me a price on the windows and that I was buying them, but first wanted to know the price of some bird houses we had seen while wandering the salvage yard.
Earlier, as we were wandering through the yard, after having selected our windows and setting them aside, we came across a bunch of birdhouses, all similar in shape and size but each of which had unique characteristics. They were all made of scraps of various sorts and were decorated with numbers, fasteners of various types, bits & pieces of hardware attached to them, etc. They were very interesting and attractive and my wife was very interested. I asked nice white guy the price and he said they were all sold. They are made for Wisteria magazine, he said, which buys all they can make. If there are any available, he said, they would be ones with black roofs and they would be $75 each, he said; the magazine doesn't buy the ones with black roofs. He said Wisteria magazine sells them for $229. Nice white guy showed us an article from the Dallas Morning News (I think) about the old black guy who makes these bird houses and has been doing so for years. He also showed us a copy, in a plastic protector, of Wisteria magazine, with photos of bird houses that showed the price at $229 each. We went back to where we had seen them and found a couple with black roofs. My wife selected one and said she wanted to buy it. Nice white guy was happy to accommodate us and offered us a certificate of authenticity, which reinforced what he had already told us: that Mr. N.L. Jones, the old black guy who builds them for Orr-Reed, had been making them for years and that he has worked for Orr-Reed for more than 30 years. The certificate goes on to say that custom models of the bird houses sit in from of some Razoos Restaurants (a cajun-styled restaurant, I assume a chain, with several in the D/FW area), and that Mr. Jones and his birdhouses were featured on a segment of Texas Tales on Dallas Channel 8. Nice white guy handed me an article, from the Dallas Morning News about Mr. Jones, that I found interesting. The article says the writer asked him how old he was and he replied "about 60." It goes on to say that, later, he "stopped counting at 75." Another piece says he was 85 at the time the article was written. Nice white guy said we would normally have been able to meet Mr. Jones, but his wife just died and her funeral was being held today (yesterday, Saturday). "You should come by to meet him sometime," nice white guy says, "he'd appreciate meeting someone who likes his birdhouses."
As we were paying the birdhouse and old windows and chatting with nice white guy, a woman came in behind us and nice white guy asked if he could help her. "You've got to, yes. I have some things here that I need to get rid of." I started to move aside so she could move up closer, but nice white guy said no, don't, take as much time as you like, and he moved around the counter behind us and talked to her. I wasn't paying close attention, but picked up enough to realize that this lady was in need of money and she had some odds & ends to sell. Nice white guy went behind the counter to the cash register and pulled out some bills...not sure of the demoninations or number...and gave them to her. She thanked him profusely and left. As soon as she was out of earshot, he said, "Now what am I going to do with this? I don't even know what it is." He held up a piece of very pretty, very decorated cloth, to which was attached descriptive information. A closer inspection revealed that she had brought in upholstery fabric samples from a fine custom furniture showroom in Dallas. I commentd that someone could make some pretty decorative accent pieces with the stuff and he said to my wife, "if you like any of them, take them, take as many as you like, no charge." My wife thanked him and picked up two rich burgandy samples.
It occurred to me while we were wandering around the place that, while I made a point of saying "hello" to everyone I encountered, most of them seemed to divert their eyes when they responded. The black guys, in particular, would say "how ya doing?" to me, but didn't look at me. Their demeanors were not subservient, by any means. Rather, they seemed almost like they wanted to make clear that they were not to be messed with, but were willing to acknowledge my presence. I'm not sure whether there's anything there...but it was interesting.
After we left, I commented to my wife that I imagine much of the economy in that part of Dallas is a cash economy and no small part of it must involve transactions such as that we had just seen, where someone is paid a small amount of money for something that is, for all intents and purposes, worthless. I don't know the guy's motives, but I appreciated his actions. The lady needed money, the guy gave her some. She 'sold' him the samples and left with her dignity intact. He had, of course, just made $75 on selling a birdhouse that had been made entirely with scrap, so he may have been in a jolly mood...but I suspect that he was participating in an economy that requires such acts of kindness.
As we were leaving, I spied a barbecue grill across the street. A black guy was turning meat on it as smoke billowed up around him. My first thought was to buy lunch there. There was no sign we could see, though, and my wife said it was probably lunch for the workers and it probably wasn't ready yet. That signaled to me that she was not interested. And, she was probably right. But it made me think of the PBS series, Hidden Kitchens, and I was tempted to try to learn more about who was cooking and for whom. Not then, though; it was apparent I would need to do that on my own. But it was getting to be time for lunch, albeit a somewhat early lunch, and so my wife and I talked about where to go. We were in an area of town we rarely get to; we immediately agreed it would be an opportunity lost if we failed to try a place in the neighborhood. My wife, who is always prepared, had brought along a copy of an article about the best hamburgers in Dallas. The winner of a series of head-to-head competitions was a place we had never heard of, Wingfield's, and it just so happened it is located in this part of Dallas. We decided to go for it. So that's where we went. I'll write about it later, maybe today. But for now, I need to finish my rapidly-cooling coffee and rest my fingers.
I could have spend days and enormous sums of money at the Orr-Reed Wrecking Company salvage yard, if I had time and money to spend.
Orr-Reed Wrecking Company is in the dark-side of Dallas, a part of the city that the people in city hall and the folks who foster tourism avoid talking about. It is an area gripped by horrendous poverty. People in that part of Dallas eke out a living by selling scrap metal and found items or working for people who do. In that dark-side of Dallas, homeless and almost-homeless people make do with what they can scrape from the streets. There's no doubt a fair amount of drug dealing down there, as well, but I think that it's populated primarily by people who are just deeply down on their luck or who never had a chance. They're people who have learning disabilities, alcohol dependencies, or drug addictions. Or, they're people who didn't have the chance to get an education or who decided, after looking at their options, they would rather not mold themselves around the expectations of a society that discounts large segments of its population. This part of Dallas is home to people who I can't understand because I've never experienced what they have experienced. I'd like to understand what their lives are like, but I'm not willing to voluntarily go through what they go through to experience it. Understanding is important to me, but I guess it's not important enough for me to make the kind of sacrifice I would need to make to achieve it.
Most people I know would be uncomfortable wandering through Orr-Reed Wrecking Company. I have to admit that I was uncomfortable the first time I went there...and maybe still am to some extent. The people who work there define diversity.
Aside from the black men in dirty white t-shirts who stream back and forth across the street in front of the building and the Mexican workers who scurry around like ants from building to building, the first person I see who is connected to the business is a middle-aged white guy, smoking a cigarette and smiling behind the front desk. He's there as you enter the front door of the decrepit, ranshackle old building that looks for all the world like it is about to collapse around you.
The next person is a black man, probably in his twenties or thirties, smiling widely to reveal only a few teeth, his arms bent and small, victims of a birth defect. The birth defect notwithstanding, he has an amazing prowess at thumbing through a pad of paper to find whatever it is the customer to whom he is talking wanted. He's pleasant and seems completely oblivious to the fact that his appearance might be jolting to people like me, people who don't often see the crustier side of our nice, comfortable worlds.
As we wander out back, in the open-air behind the building, we encounter several more Mexican men, Spanish speakers all, who are busily engaged in jobs like pulling nails from old boards and stacking the boards neatly into shelves that I can only describe as the sort I used to see in old lumber yards when I would travel around with my father. These are not the Home Depot metal mega-shelves; these are shelves that are made of the very lumber they are meant to hold and they are solid as a rock. Beneath the stacks of boards, on the face of the shelves, the nominal sizes of the boards are marked in dark permanent markers.
There are more black men, each of whom seems to have a job to do, scurrying all around the salvage yard. Everyone seems to have responsibilities in specific sections...a vast area of doors of every type, size, and description has its group, the windows section, full of wooden, metal, plastic, and combination windows in every size and condition has its group, and so on.
I remember from visiting the place years ago that open-toed shoes are inappropriate here. There's too much broken glass and sharp metal protuberances and too many nails and other sharp objects laying around to risk walking in open-toed shoes. Before going to the place, I advised my wife to put on something beside sandals.
We wandered through the place and found some windows I wanted, but I did not recall what to do with them...they were not priced, but I did not recall how to get them priced or who to ask. I set them aside and we wandered through the rest of the place, taking it all in. Then, I went back inside where the nice white guy was smoking and he asked if I had seen Alberto...not knowing who Alberto was, I said I did not know. He said Alberto was a Mexican guy in a white cowboy hat; the white guy led me outside, where he quickly found Alberto and told Alberto that I needed some windows priced. I led Alberto to the windows and he offered a price almost as a question...but I considered it fair and did not attempt to negotiate, I just said "that's fair, I'll buy them" and he picked them up and walked out the front gate and asked, in a very heavy accent, whether the truck he was standing in front of was mine. I explained that I only had my car, but I thought they would fit in the trunk. After some adjustments, they did, and I thanked Alberto, who walked back through the gate where I had first seen him. I then went back in the front door of the place and explained to nice white guy that Alberto gave me a price on the windows and that I was buying them, but first wanted to know the price of some bird houses we had seen while wandering the salvage yard.
Earlier, as we were wandering through the yard, after having selected our windows and setting them aside, we came across a bunch of birdhouses, all similar in shape and size but each of which had unique characteristics. They were all made of scraps of various sorts and were decorated with numbers, fasteners of various types, bits & pieces of hardware attached to them, etc. They were very interesting and attractive and my wife was very interested. I asked nice white guy the price and he said they were all sold. They are made for Wisteria magazine, he said, which buys all they can make. If there are any available, he said, they would be ones with black roofs and they would be $75 each, he said; the magazine doesn't buy the ones with black roofs. He said Wisteria magazine sells them for $229. Nice white guy showed us an article from the Dallas Morning News (I think) about the old black guy who makes these bird houses and has been doing so for years. He also showed us a copy, in a plastic protector, of Wisteria magazine, with photos of bird houses that showed the price at $229 each. We went back to where we had seen them and found a couple with black roofs. My wife selected one and said she wanted to buy it. Nice white guy was happy to accommodate us and offered us a certificate of authenticity, which reinforced what he had already told us: that Mr. N.L. Jones, the old black guy who builds them for Orr-Reed, had been making them for years and that he has worked for Orr-Reed for more than 30 years. The certificate goes on to say that custom models of the bird houses sit in from of some Razoos Restaurants (a cajun-styled restaurant, I assume a chain, with several in the D/FW area), and that Mr. Jones and his birdhouses were featured on a segment of Texas Tales on Dallas Channel 8. Nice white guy handed me an article, from the Dallas Morning News about Mr. Jones, that I found interesting. The article says the writer asked him how old he was and he replied "about 60." It goes on to say that, later, he "stopped counting at 75." Another piece says he was 85 at the time the article was written. Nice white guy said we would normally have been able to meet Mr. Jones, but his wife just died and her funeral was being held today (yesterday, Saturday). "You should come by to meet him sometime," nice white guy says, "he'd appreciate meeting someone who likes his birdhouses."
As we were paying the birdhouse and old windows and chatting with nice white guy, a woman came in behind us and nice white guy asked if he could help her. "You've got to, yes. I have some things here that I need to get rid of." I started to move aside so she could move up closer, but nice white guy said no, don't, take as much time as you like, and he moved around the counter behind us and talked to her. I wasn't paying close attention, but picked up enough to realize that this lady was in need of money and she had some odds & ends to sell. Nice white guy went behind the counter to the cash register and pulled out some bills...not sure of the demoninations or number...and gave them to her. She thanked him profusely and left. As soon as she was out of earshot, he said, "Now what am I going to do with this? I don't even know what it is." He held up a piece of very pretty, very decorated cloth, to which was attached descriptive information. A closer inspection revealed that she had brought in upholstery fabric samples from a fine custom furniture showroom in Dallas. I commentd that someone could make some pretty decorative accent pieces with the stuff and he said to my wife, "if you like any of them, take them, take as many as you like, no charge." My wife thanked him and picked up two rich burgandy samples.
It occurred to me while we were wandering around the place that, while I made a point of saying "hello" to everyone I encountered, most of them seemed to divert their eyes when they responded. The black guys, in particular, would say "how ya doing?" to me, but didn't look at me. Their demeanors were not subservient, by any means. Rather, they seemed almost like they wanted to make clear that they were not to be messed with, but were willing to acknowledge my presence. I'm not sure whether there's anything there...but it was interesting.
After we left, I commented to my wife that I imagine much of the economy in that part of Dallas is a cash economy and no small part of it must involve transactions such as that we had just seen, where someone is paid a small amount of money for something that is, for all intents and purposes, worthless. I don't know the guy's motives, but I appreciated his actions. The lady needed money, the guy gave her some. She 'sold' him the samples and left with her dignity intact. He had, of course, just made $75 on selling a birdhouse that had been made entirely with scrap, so he may have been in a jolly mood...but I suspect that he was participating in an economy that requires such acts of kindness.
As we were leaving, I spied a barbecue grill across the street. A black guy was turning meat on it as smoke billowed up around him. My first thought was to buy lunch there. There was no sign we could see, though, and my wife said it was probably lunch for the workers and it probably wasn't ready yet. That signaled to me that she was not interested. And, she was probably right. But it made me think of the PBS series, Hidden Kitchens, and I was tempted to try to learn more about who was cooking and for whom. Not then, though; it was apparent I would need to do that on my own. But it was getting to be time for lunch, albeit a somewhat early lunch, and so my wife and I talked about where to go. We were in an area of town we rarely get to; we immediately agreed it would be an opportunity lost if we failed to try a place in the neighborhood. My wife, who is always prepared, had brought along a copy of an article about the best hamburgers in Dallas. The winner of a series of head-to-head competitions was a place we had never heard of, Wingfield's, and it just so happened it is located in this part of Dallas. We decided to go for it. So that's where we went. I'll write about it later, maybe today. But for now, I need to finish my rapidly-cooling coffee and rest my fingers.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Into the Day
According to Weather.com, it's 86 degrees in Dallas (at 8:33 am), but feels like 91 degrees. The high is expected to be 101. They lie, because they know the populace would panic if they knew that the high temperature will be more like 109. I know. And I am near panic. The idea of walking outside in such temperatures is abhorrent.
But walk out side I shall. I shall go to visit Orr-Reed Wrecking Company, Inc. today, along with my lovely wife, where we will look for old windows that might look interesting hung up on our fence. I envision a mix of rustic old wooden window frames with peeling paint and broken window panes, alongside similar windows that I will paint bright colors and to which I will attach simple window boxes for flowers. Once I find some old windows and get them attached to the fence, I might look for some old garden implements and attach them, too, to the fence. A funky old outdoor restaurant we visited not long ago had rusty old bicycles hanging from a wall outside and they looked interesting. I'm trying to create an odd ambiance that will complement an outdoor deck area that's inviting...something very casual and comfortable.
I took a quick look at the street in front of my house to find that the gushing geyser from yesterday afternoon's water main break was repaired; now, the street needs patching. A lady walking her dog saw me peering into the hole that once sprayed water through the street and said, "it looks like they got it fixed." I nodded in agreement, as it was obvious from the lack of a geyser, and wondered aloud how long it took them to repair the break. "I heard the water come back on at 2:30," she said. When I got back inside and turned on the water, it was obvious it had been off...lots of complaining from the pipes as water tried to push out the pockets of air. Taking a shower was interesting, at least the first few moments, as I was doused with sprays of hot water, interspersed with sprays of hot air.
I got sidetracked...it's well after 9:00 am now. The kitchen is better organized now and the dishwasher is awaiting its instructions. And a small cooler has been filled with bottled water and ice in preparation for our foray into the heat. It's time to head out into the day.
But walk out side I shall. I shall go to visit Orr-Reed Wrecking Company, Inc. today, along with my lovely wife, where we will look for old windows that might look interesting hung up on our fence. I envision a mix of rustic old wooden window frames with peeling paint and broken window panes, alongside similar windows that I will paint bright colors and to which I will attach simple window boxes for flowers. Once I find some old windows and get them attached to the fence, I might look for some old garden implements and attach them, too, to the fence. A funky old outdoor restaurant we visited not long ago had rusty old bicycles hanging from a wall outside and they looked interesting. I'm trying to create an odd ambiance that will complement an outdoor deck area that's inviting...something very casual and comfortable.
I took a quick look at the street in front of my house to find that the gushing geyser from yesterday afternoon's water main break was repaired; now, the street needs patching. A lady walking her dog saw me peering into the hole that once sprayed water through the street and said, "it looks like they got it fixed." I nodded in agreement, as it was obvious from the lack of a geyser, and wondered aloud how long it took them to repair the break. "I heard the water come back on at 2:30," she said. When I got back inside and turned on the water, it was obvious it had been off...lots of complaining from the pipes as water tried to push out the pockets of air. Taking a shower was interesting, at least the first few moments, as I was doused with sprays of hot water, interspersed with sprays of hot air.
I got sidetracked...it's well after 9:00 am now. The kitchen is better organized now and the dishwasher is awaiting its instructions. And a small cooler has been filled with bottled water and ice in preparation for our foray into the heat. It's time to head out into the day.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Sushi and Lockouts
Last night, we enjoyed a restaurant we had never visited, Sushi Zushi. It's a place with decidedly modern Japanese design, a place that oozes 'chic' from every corner. Its menu is phenomenol...page after page after page of traditional and Asian fusion offerings, all of which sounded wonderful. We ate there at the suggestion of our friends from out of town, who had been to the place some months ago during another business trip to Dallas. It's in a part of Dallas that prides itself on being chic and trendy...not our style, normally, but worth a try from time to time. We fell in love with the place, though its pricing assumed patrons of more means than my wife and I, or patrons on unlimited spending accounts and with a need to impress clients, friends, bosses, etc.
The waiter was aggressively energetic and opinionated about what we should eat. Since our friends were picking up the tab and seemed not to worry about cost, we readily agreed to let him, and our dining partners, pick out the meal. The meal started with arguments over which cold saki is better, a dry saki or what the waiter called a cloudy saki, which he said was a bit sweeter but was what all the Japanese guests drink. My wife and I both said we generally preferred white wine, but have rather sparse experience with, or knowledge of, saki. The guy finally brought samples, which convinced us that "sweet" was the wrong word and that it was, indeed, the more appealing. So we got a bottle of saki, which I believe I overheard was $57. My wife and I would order such a thing on the tenth anniversary of our winning a multimillion dollar jackpot...certainly not on a typical night out with friends.
We started with edamame because we wanted to be able to say we had eaten our vegetables. I love the salty flavor of soy beans that have just been broken from their hulls. From there, we had a wonderfully spicy mix of crawfish, two or three kinds of caviar, rice, ginger, wasabi, and lots of other stuff I did not recognize. The waiter brought a beautiful dish to us, then proceeded to mix the ingredients into what looked very much like pre-digested dogfood...but it tasted delicious, nonetheless. We had extremely finely-sliced razor clams in a lime based dressing, topped with a very fine slice of jalapeno. We had yellowtail, we had very, very spicy ahi tuna encrusted in pepper....we had lots more. It was fabulous.
Then, we took them back to the Melrose Hotel, where they were staying, and split a bottle of red wine with them. The Melrose bar, called the Library, is a very attractive place. The entertainment last night, a lovely singer-pianist, was good, but very, very loud for our tastes. All in all, a restaurant, a bar, an area of town worth visiting again.
Today, my world reverted to its normal self, but it wasn't too bad. I helped my Aussie assistant try to get her car unlocked, after she mistakenly shut the door with the radio blaring. Finally, a had-been repo-wrecker driver, coupled with a couple of Hispanic guys who just happened to have a very professional looking jimmy bar in their car, got the door unlocked...but just as I said, "you got it" to the tatooed has-been and I pulled up on my coat-hanger, the passenger side door that I had been working on unlocked. The thanks, though, were deserved by the blue-collar dudes who were willing to help a white-collar geezer and his beautiful, tall, blonde foreign-accented assistant.
When I got home today, a major water main under the street in front of my house was gushing water...it still is. I called the City of Dallas at 5:55 pm, finally got a human at 6:00 pm and reported it. I expect the City will send someone next Thursday. I'm not skeptical.
The waiter was aggressively energetic and opinionated about what we should eat. Since our friends were picking up the tab and seemed not to worry about cost, we readily agreed to let him, and our dining partners, pick out the meal. The meal started with arguments over which cold saki is better, a dry saki or what the waiter called a cloudy saki, which he said was a bit sweeter but was what all the Japanese guests drink. My wife and I both said we generally preferred white wine, but have rather sparse experience with, or knowledge of, saki. The guy finally brought samples, which convinced us that "sweet" was the wrong word and that it was, indeed, the more appealing. So we got a bottle of saki, which I believe I overheard was $57. My wife and I would order such a thing on the tenth anniversary of our winning a multimillion dollar jackpot...certainly not on a typical night out with friends.
We started with edamame because we wanted to be able to say we had eaten our vegetables. I love the salty flavor of soy beans that have just been broken from their hulls. From there, we had a wonderfully spicy mix of crawfish, two or three kinds of caviar, rice, ginger, wasabi, and lots of other stuff I did not recognize. The waiter brought a beautiful dish to us, then proceeded to mix the ingredients into what looked very much like pre-digested dogfood...but it tasted delicious, nonetheless. We had extremely finely-sliced razor clams in a lime based dressing, topped with a very fine slice of jalapeno. We had yellowtail, we had very, very spicy ahi tuna encrusted in pepper....we had lots more. It was fabulous.
Then, we took them back to the Melrose Hotel, where they were staying, and split a bottle of red wine with them. The Melrose bar, called the Library, is a very attractive place. The entertainment last night, a lovely singer-pianist, was good, but very, very loud for our tastes. All in all, a restaurant, a bar, an area of town worth visiting again.
Today, my world reverted to its normal self, but it wasn't too bad. I helped my Aussie assistant try to get her car unlocked, after she mistakenly shut the door with the radio blaring. Finally, a had-been repo-wrecker driver, coupled with a couple of Hispanic guys who just happened to have a very professional looking jimmy bar in their car, got the door unlocked...but just as I said, "you got it" to the tatooed has-been and I pulled up on my coat-hanger, the passenger side door that I had been working on unlocked. The thanks, though, were deserved by the blue-collar dudes who were willing to help a white-collar geezer and his beautiful, tall, blonde foreign-accented assistant.
When I got home today, a major water main under the street in front of my house was gushing water...it still is. I called the City of Dallas at 5:55 pm, finally got a human at 6:00 pm and reported it. I expect the City will send someone next Thursday. I'm not skeptical.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Hypochondriac?
Yesterday, I noticed a slight pain when I breathed in; it was right in the middle of my chest. At first, I thought nothing of it, but it seemed to get progressively more noticeable late in the day and overnight. This morning, I felt it with every breath and it seemed to be worse if I lay on my side. Having had open heart surgery a couple of years ago, my first thought was that something was going wrong again...despite the fact that I had a physical exam very recently.
I decided to sleep in, to see if it would disappear of its own accord. When I woke at 8:30 am, the second awakening, it was still there. Rather than call a doctor then, I drifted back to sleep and awoke about 9:30. I started trying to get to see my cardiologist and finally was able to make an appointment...for July 19. Then, I started working on my family medical clinic. I got an appointment at 1:00 pm.
At the appointed time, I arrived and was ushered in for a quick look and an EKG. The doctor (my regular doc wasn't there, so a very young doctor...she looked to be in her 20s saw me). She allowed as my EKG was just fine, my blood pressure was good, my heart sounds were good...but there were sounds that suggested heartburn. She had a chest X-ray done to be on the safe side and sent me home with a 10-day supply of Nexium.
As I was going through this, I began wondering whether I have become a hypochondriac. Something that would not have made me think for a minute about going to doctor a few years ago got me worried. Maybe I'm making more of it than I should. Or maybe today I needed a mental health day and the way I got it was to experience a physical symptom.
None of this has prevented me from moving forward with plans for tonight. My wife and I are goiong out with two friends who are in town on business. We'll pick them up at the Melrose Hotel and go someplace nice to eat. I hope my need for Nexium doesn't interfere.
I decided to sleep in, to see if it would disappear of its own accord. When I woke at 8:30 am, the second awakening, it was still there. Rather than call a doctor then, I drifted back to sleep and awoke about 9:30. I started trying to get to see my cardiologist and finally was able to make an appointment...for July 19. Then, I started working on my family medical clinic. I got an appointment at 1:00 pm.
At the appointed time, I arrived and was ushered in for a quick look and an EKG. The doctor (my regular doc wasn't there, so a very young doctor...she looked to be in her 20s saw me). She allowed as my EKG was just fine, my blood pressure was good, my heart sounds were good...but there were sounds that suggested heartburn. She had a chest X-ray done to be on the safe side and sent me home with a 10-day supply of Nexium.
As I was going through this, I began wondering whether I have become a hypochondriac. Something that would not have made me think for a minute about going to doctor a few years ago got me worried. Maybe I'm making more of it than I should. Or maybe today I needed a mental health day and the way I got it was to experience a physical symptom.
None of this has prevented me from moving forward with plans for tonight. My wife and I are goiong out with two friends who are in town on business. We'll pick them up at the Melrose Hotel and go someplace nice to eat. I hope my need for Nexium doesn't interfere.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
It's Mighty Warm Here in the Homestate of Our Miserable Excuse for a President
It's 8:43 pm in Dallas...and it's 97 degrees.
Once again, I invoke my right to complain bitterly about the people who decided to settle in north Texas. Those people obviously were sadists. They looked deep into their minds and said, "By settling here, we can inflict pain for generations to come. We can ensure that some people in the future will suffer, and suffer badly. We may not have the ability to create nuclear bombs, but we can bring future generations to their knees, cursing the heat as they take their final, hyper-heated breaths."
Or, something like that.
I have been reading of late about the wonderful temperatures in Seattle and Ashland, Oregon. I have seen the forecasts for Chapala, Mexico. It's 78 degrees there at 8:45 pm. Living in this sweltering hell-hole seems too much like punishment for me to believe it is coincidental that I live here. Despite my serious doubts about a devine being, I am beginning to think there is a hate-fairie in control of my comfort. I think that maybe, just maybe, I am being given instructions: "Move to friendlier climes!"
OK. I'm game. I need an immediate injection of large volumes of cash. I promise I will spend it wisely and will make the donors proud. If you need to know where to send it, let me know.
Once again, I invoke my right to complain bitterly about the people who decided to settle in north Texas. Those people obviously were sadists. They looked deep into their minds and said, "By settling here, we can inflict pain for generations to come. We can ensure that some people in the future will suffer, and suffer badly. We may not have the ability to create nuclear bombs, but we can bring future generations to their knees, cursing the heat as they take their final, hyper-heated breaths."
Or, something like that.
I have been reading of late about the wonderful temperatures in Seattle and Ashland, Oregon. I have seen the forecasts for Chapala, Mexico. It's 78 degrees there at 8:45 pm. Living in this sweltering hell-hole seems too much like punishment for me to believe it is coincidental that I live here. Despite my serious doubts about a devine being, I am beginning to think there is a hate-fairie in control of my comfort. I think that maybe, just maybe, I am being given instructions: "Move to friendlier climes!"
OK. I'm game. I need an immediate injection of large volumes of cash. I promise I will spend it wisely and will make the donors proud. If you need to know where to send it, let me know.
Monday, July 10, 2006
An Incontinent Truth
I am among those Dallasites who have yet to modify their lifestyles to mirror the climate in which they live. A climate which gets miserably hot in the summer and which is, simultaneously, a rather dry place for those same summer months, should not have large, thirsty spreads of grass for lawns. But Dallas has vast lawns...and those vast lawns are, by and large, covered in grass that need daily watering when the temperatures climb into the mid 90s, at minimum. Temperatures here regularly hit that point and much higher, wilting and killing any grass that is not fastidiously watered and manicured and treated like the sensitive little thing it is. So, we Dallasites use extraordinary volumes of water to keep our lawns looking
nice.
I am not a fan of this sort of conspicuous irresponsibility, but the costs of replacing thirsty grass with attractive, but not-so-thirsty, plants is astronomical. I would like to install xeriscape gardens in my yard, along withg a highly-focused irrigation system that would be assured of keeping the soil beneath and around my house at a moisture level that will help avoid problems with my slab foundation. We have experienced foundation problems before; they are ugly, expensive experiences!
All of this consideration of my own ecological behaviors leads me to this: I am looking forward to seeing An Inconvenient Truth. The local chapter of Drinking Liberally sent an email recently, saying how wonderful it was for the group to go to the film...but the author kept referring to it as "An Incontinent Truth."
nice.
I am not a fan of this sort of conspicuous irresponsibility, but the costs of replacing thirsty grass with attractive, but not-so-thirsty, plants is astronomical. I would like to install xeriscape gardens in my yard, along withg a highly-focused irrigation system that would be assured of keeping the soil beneath and around my house at a moisture level that will help avoid problems with my slab foundation. We have experienced foundation problems before; they are ugly, expensive experiences!
All of this consideration of my own ecological behaviors leads me to this: I am looking forward to seeing An Inconvenient Truth. The local chapter of Drinking Liberally sent an email recently, saying how wonderful it was for the group to go to the film...but the author kept referring to it as "An Incontinent Truth."
Saturday, July 8, 2006
George Bush and Primary School
I like this, delivered via email from a favorite sister-in-law:
George Bush goes to a primary school to talk to the kids to get a little PR. After his talk he offers question time. One little boy puts up his hand and George asks him his name.
"Stanley," responds the little boy.
"And what is your question, Stanley?"
"I have 4 questions:
First, why did the USA invade Iraq without the support of the UN? Second, why are you President when Al Gore got more votes? Third, whatever happened to Osama Bin Laden?" Fourth, why are we so worried about gay-marriage when 1/2 of all Americans don't have health insurance?
Just then, the bell rings for recess. George Bush informs the kiddies that they will continue after recess.
When they resume George says, "OK, where were we? Oh, that's right, question time. Who has a question?"
Another little boy puts up his hand. George points him out and asks him his name.
"Steve," he responds.
"And what is your question, Steve?"
"Actually, I have 6 questions. First, why did the USA invade Iraq without the support of the UN? Second, why are you President when Al Gore got more votes? Third, whatever happened to Osama Bin Laden? Fourth, why are we so worried about gay marriage when 1/2 of all Americans don't have health insurance? Fifth, why did the recess bell go off 20 minutes early? Sixth, what the hell happened to Stanley?"
George Bush goes to a primary school to talk to the kids to get a little PR. After his talk he offers question time. One little boy puts up his hand and George asks him his name.
"Stanley," responds the little boy.
"And what is your question, Stanley?"
"I have 4 questions:
First, why did the USA invade Iraq without the support of the UN? Second, why are you President when Al Gore got more votes? Third, whatever happened to Osama Bin Laden?" Fourth, why are we so worried about gay-marriage when 1/2 of all Americans don't have health insurance?
Just then, the bell rings for recess. George Bush informs the kiddies that they will continue after recess.
When they resume George says, "OK, where were we? Oh, that's right, question time. Who has a question?"
Another little boy puts up his hand. George points him out and asks him his name.
"Steve," he responds.
"And what is your question, Steve?"
"Actually, I have 6 questions. First, why did the USA invade Iraq without the support of the UN? Second, why are you President when Al Gore got more votes? Third, whatever happened to Osama Bin Laden? Fourth, why are we so worried about gay marriage when 1/2 of all Americans don't have health insurance? Fifth, why did the recess bell go off 20 minutes early? Sixth, what the hell happened to Stanley?"
Friday, July 7, 2006
Association Lilfe (oh, and IMPEACH BUSH!)
It's Friday night. I've spent the day with board members and a large group of people who comprise the stakeholders of the members of the association I am representing today. Madness!
I read a favorite blog tonight and left the author a message...or several. I mistakenly thought my messages had not been posted, only to find I was just impatient. After removing about 4 or 5 duplicates, I had learned my lesson.
I'm alive, alert, and ready to have a conversation with someone intelligent, lively, and willing to share opinions. Instead, I'm in my hotel room, drinking a glass of red wine, and waiting for a snack to be delivered from room service. Crazy. A wild Friday night in the life of an association executive.
A nice Philly cheesesteak (I know, I'm in Naperville) is just what the doctor ordered. I'm relaxing, and WISHING FOR THE IMPEACHMENT OF GEORGE BUSH!.
I read a favorite blog tonight and left the author a message...or several. I mistakenly thought my messages had not been posted, only to find I was just impatient. After removing about 4 or 5 duplicates, I had learned my lesson.
I'm alive, alert, and ready to have a conversation with someone intelligent, lively, and willing to share opinions. Instead, I'm in my hotel room, drinking a glass of red wine, and waiting for a snack to be delivered from room service. Crazy. A wild Friday night in the life of an association executive.
A nice Philly cheesesteak (I know, I'm in Naperville) is just what the doctor ordered. I'm relaxing, and WISHING FOR THE IMPEACHMENT OF GEORGE BUSH!.
Thursday, July 6, 2006
Mexico, etc.
It's nearing midnight in Naperville and I just got back to my room. A nice dinner (about $1500+ worth), followed by a brief visit to a local bar with a few of the more adventurous types, was a great cap to the day. I enjoyed myself and wanted to finish the day with another 3-4 dozen fine oysters.
Didn't. Wish I had.
Mexican election results are in. They say Calderon won. I doubt it, but am taking back my admonition to Mexicans to take to the streets. Better an imperfect democracy than one destroyed by partisan rancor. Better live like Mexico than die a slow death like George Bush's USA.
Didn't. Wish I had.
Mexican election results are in. They say Calderon won. I doubt it, but am taking back my admonition to Mexicans to take to the streets. Better an imperfect democracy than one destroyed by partisan rancor. Better live like Mexico than die a slow death like George Bush's USA.
Wednesday, July 5, 2006
Illinois Is Cooler Than Texas
This afternoon, I spent almost three hours in an airplane sitting on the tarmac at DFW airport, followed by another couple plus hours in the same airplane flying to Chicago. After the plane left the gate, late, we were delayed due to weather in Dallas. Imagine that, Dallas having weather! It didn't look too bad to me, just rain, but I would rather the ground controllers and the cockpit crews behave in an overly-cautious manner than go the other direction. So, I sat silently and periodically jolted myself awake just as (or was it after) I started to snore.
Now, I'm in the Chicago suburb of Naperville, sitting in my suburban hotel room. My two colleagues and I had the hotel van take us to downtown Naperville, where we strolled about a bit and finally stopped at Potters, a Mexican food restaurant. It was not bad at all...and the ambiance was nice. We sat ourdoors on the patio, in comfortable temperatures, listening to a live band (for part of the dinner). I was proud to immediately recognize an old Jimi Hendrix tune, All Along the Watchtower, as the band began to play it.
After dinner, we strolled a bit more and then called the hotel to get our van back. And here I sit.
I'm here for a client event and board meeting, as well as to complete a special task of interviewing candidates for an independent contractor gig for which the client is trying to engage a good candidate. I'll be here until late Sunday. Absent another delay, I'll arrive back in Dallas at about 7:30 pm Sunday, just in time to wash clothes to begin another workweek.
I believe I've said it before. I need a vacation. But in some sense, I am having one. Illinois is cooler than Texas right now...highs of 85 will be like a wonderful vacation to me, compared to highs in the 90s and high humidity at home.
Now, I'm in the Chicago suburb of Naperville, sitting in my suburban hotel room. My two colleagues and I had the hotel van take us to downtown Naperville, where we strolled about a bit and finally stopped at Potters, a Mexican food restaurant. It was not bad at all...and the ambiance was nice. We sat ourdoors on the patio, in comfortable temperatures, listening to a live band (for part of the dinner). I was proud to immediately recognize an old Jimi Hendrix tune, All Along the Watchtower, as the band began to play it.
After dinner, we strolled a bit more and then called the hotel to get our van back. And here I sit.
I'm here for a client event and board meeting, as well as to complete a special task of interviewing candidates for an independent contractor gig for which the client is trying to engage a good candidate. I'll be here until late Sunday. Absent another delay, I'll arrive back in Dallas at about 7:30 pm Sunday, just in time to wash clothes to begin another workweek.
I believe I've said it before. I need a vacation. But in some sense, I am having one. Illinois is cooler than Texas right now...highs of 85 will be like a wonderful vacation to me, compared to highs in the 90s and high humidity at home.
Tuesday, July 4, 2006
Mexican Elections: What I Think The Results Say
Here it is, the Fourth of July holiday, and I've spent a considerable part of the morning (and then later this afternoon) poring over Mexican election figures, trying to make some sense out of a political landscape that I don't quite understand. It beats going out to the local paintball spots.
Assuming the numbers reported thus far are correct (a big assumption...), it looks like Felipe Calderón [Partido Acción Nacional (PAN)] was elected president of Mexico, although just barely. With more than 98% of the votes counted, he is reported to have received 14,027,214 votes, against 13,624,506 for his closest opponent, Andrés Manuel López Obrador [Democratic Revolution Party (PRD)]. That 402,708 vote spread makes for a very, very contentious Mexican political scene.
Here's what I've decided to be true...or plausible...about the Mexican election, based on information I've gathered from media reports (some in Spanish...I'm so proud of laboriously making my way through them like a first-grader learning to read) and the Intituto Electoral Federal (courtesy of the International Herald).
The election results revealed a distinct "Red State-Blue State" dynamic going on in Mexico. All of the northern border states (on the U.S. border) are in the right-leaning Calderón camp, at least at the presidential level. Here is a rundown:
Mexican 'Red' States
Tamaulipas, which runs along the Texas border from Brownsville to Nuevo Laredo, cast 42% of its votes for Calderón, versus 27% for López Obrador and 26% for Roberto Madrazo, the PRI (Partido Revolucionario Institucional) candidate.
Nuevo Leon (which has a tiny stretch of common border with Texas), was overwhelmingly in favor of Calderón with 50% of votes; Madrazo came in second with 28% and 16% went to López Obrador.
Coahuila favored Calderón with 44% of the votes, Madrazo captured 26%, and López Obrador got 25%.
Chihuahua, the largest Mexican state, which borders Texas and New Mexico on the north, gave Calderón 47% of votes, against 29% for Madrazo and 19% for López Obrador.
Sonora favored Calderón with a majority of 51%; 26% went for López Obrador and 19% for Madrazo.
The last U.S.-bordering state, Baja California, gave 48% to Calderón, 24% to Mexican 'Red' States, and 22% to Madrazo.
The other 'Red' states were Puebla (south central), Querétaro (central), San Luis Potosi (central), Guanajuato (central), Aguascalientes (central), Jalisco (south central), Colima (south), Sinaloa (western central), and Durango (central). A 'holdout' southern state on the Gulf of Mexico side was Yucatan, which gave 47% to
Calderón and only 17% to López Obrador.
Mexican 'Blue' States
López Obrador was the strongest candidate in most of the Yucatan penninsula, including Quintana Roo, Campeche, and Tabasco. He also captured the highest percentage of votes in Chiapas, Oaxaca, Veracruz, Morelos, Mexico (state), Hidalgo, Tlaxcala, Distrito Federal (Mexico City), Zacatecas, Guerrero, Nayarit, Michoacán and Baja California Sur.
I am better able to analzye if I can see a graphic representation of something like I have just described, but I will try without it. It appears to me that Mexico's political sensibilities are effectively divided into almost north versus south groups, with some minor discrepencies. Jalisco is a major business center, which probably explains the pro-Calderón attitudes there. I would have expected the same in Mexico, but López Obrador was mayor of Mexico City and was, from what I gather, very popular. His popularity and recognition in the city and environs may explain how the business community there did not manage to overcome.
It seems to me that Mexico is experiencing something similar to what the U.S. is experiencing and has experienced with the resurrection of the Republican party in the 1990s. While there was certainly rancor between the parties when the Democrats were in power, the Democrats did not attempt to demonize Republicans during that time. Once Republicans seized control of the Senate and the House and then, stole the presidency, they immediately began to demonize (literally) Democrats and they began to use religion as a weapon. That has turned the U.S. into a deeply divided country whose two major factions have deep distrust of one another. It has moved beyond politics in to daily life. I sense the same thing is happening, perhaps on a larger scale in Mexico. Whoever is ultimately declared the winner, both he and his primary opponent must be willing to overlook their personal distastes and deal with the other. The fractures that this election have revealed in Mexican society have the capacity to irreparably rupture the social and political fabric of the country if care is not given by all leaders, elected and unelected, to work toward healings rifts and toward making the country's institutions instruments to bring justice to everyone.
OK, I'm off the soapbox for the moment.
Assuming the numbers reported thus far are correct (a big assumption...), it looks like Felipe Calderón [Partido Acción Nacional (PAN)] was elected president of Mexico, although just barely. With more than 98% of the votes counted, he is reported to have received 14,027,214 votes, against 13,624,506 for his closest opponent, Andrés Manuel López Obrador [Democratic Revolution Party (PRD)]. That 402,708 vote spread makes for a very, very contentious Mexican political scene.
Here's what I've decided to be true...or plausible...about the Mexican election, based on information I've gathered from media reports (some in Spanish...I'm so proud of laboriously making my way through them like a first-grader learning to read) and the Intituto Electoral Federal (courtesy of the International Herald).
The election results revealed a distinct "Red State-Blue State" dynamic going on in Mexico. All of the northern border states (on the U.S. border) are in the right-leaning Calderón camp, at least at the presidential level. Here is a rundown:
Mexican 'Red' States
Tamaulipas, which runs along the Texas border from Brownsville to Nuevo Laredo, cast 42% of its votes for Calderón, versus 27% for López Obrador and 26% for Roberto Madrazo, the PRI (Partido Revolucionario Institucional) candidate.
Nuevo Leon (which has a tiny stretch of common border with Texas), was overwhelmingly in favor of Calderón with 50% of votes; Madrazo came in second with 28% and 16% went to López Obrador.
Coahuila favored Calderón with 44% of the votes, Madrazo captured 26%, and López Obrador got 25%.
Chihuahua, the largest Mexican state, which borders Texas and New Mexico on the north, gave Calderón 47% of votes, against 29% for Madrazo and 19% for López Obrador.
Sonora favored Calderón with a majority of 51%; 26% went for López Obrador and 19% for Madrazo.
The last U.S.-bordering state, Baja California, gave 48% to Calderón, 24% to Mexican 'Red' States, and 22% to Madrazo.
The other 'Red' states were Puebla (south central), Querétaro (central), San Luis Potosi (central), Guanajuato (central), Aguascalientes (central), Jalisco (south central), Colima (south), Sinaloa (western central), and Durango (central). A 'holdout' southern state on the Gulf of Mexico side was Yucatan, which gave 47% to
Calderón and only 17% to López Obrador.
Mexican 'Blue' States
López Obrador was the strongest candidate in most of the Yucatan penninsula, including Quintana Roo, Campeche, and Tabasco. He also captured the highest percentage of votes in Chiapas, Oaxaca, Veracruz, Morelos, Mexico (state), Hidalgo, Tlaxcala, Distrito Federal (Mexico City), Zacatecas, Guerrero, Nayarit, Michoacán and Baja California Sur.
I am better able to analzye if I can see a graphic representation of something like I have just described, but I will try without it. It appears to me that Mexico's political sensibilities are effectively divided into almost north versus south groups, with some minor discrepencies. Jalisco is a major business center, which probably explains the pro-Calderón attitudes there. I would have expected the same in Mexico, but López Obrador was mayor of Mexico City and was, from what I gather, very popular. His popularity and recognition in the city and environs may explain how the business community there did not manage to overcome.
It seems to me that Mexico is experiencing something similar to what the U.S. is experiencing and has experienced with the resurrection of the Republican party in the 1990s. While there was certainly rancor between the parties when the Democrats were in power, the Democrats did not attempt to demonize Republicans during that time. Once Republicans seized control of the Senate and the House and then, stole the presidency, they immediately began to demonize (literally) Democrats and they began to use religion as a weapon. That has turned the U.S. into a deeply divided country whose two major factions have deep distrust of one another. It has moved beyond politics in to daily life. I sense the same thing is happening, perhaps on a larger scale in Mexico. Whoever is ultimately declared the winner, both he and his primary opponent must be willing to overlook their personal distastes and deal with the other. The fractures that this election have revealed in Mexican society have the capacity to irreparably rupture the social and political fabric of the country if care is not given by all leaders, elected and unelected, to work toward healings rifts and toward making the country's institutions instruments to bring justice to everyone.
OK, I'm off the soapbox for the moment.
Monday, July 3, 2006
Fireworks
It's getting near sundown, so I expect to start hearing fireworks before long. On the way home from the office today, I passed a number of parking lots that had been roped off to prevent unauthorized cars from parking...these are lots with great views of one of the most spectacular fireworks displays around here, Kaboomtown, the City of Addison's gala July 3 extravaganza. We're sticking around the house...my wife will read or watch television, I will browse the Internet and wander around outdoors, trying to get a glimse of some of the more remarkable explosions.
It will be loud...always is. If it weren't for the crowds, I'd get a bit closer and watch the fireworks. I enjoy sitting around with a group of people, grilling hotdogs and drinking beer, waiting for the celebration. One of the radio stations always syncs its music to the fireworks. That's always fun.
But tonight, we're sitting at home. Fuddy duddies.
Since I wrote that, my wife proved me wrong. She agreed to go out with me. We drove to Addison (about 4 miles away) in a light drizzle, only to find massive traffic snarls. Everyone else wanted to prove they aren't fuddy duddies, either. We finally found a decent spot and watched fireworks for a while...pretty stuff. We didn't staff for the finale, which is always amazing, because we wanted to miss the horrible traffic snarls immediately following. On the way home, we noticed people sitting by the roadside in several places, anywhere there was a decent view toward the west, where the fireworks were visible. There were people parked along a raised portion of Preston Road, a six-eight lane north-south artery nearby. Insanity.
But the fireworks were pretty.
It will be loud...always is. If it weren't for the crowds, I'd get a bit closer and watch the fireworks. I enjoy sitting around with a group of people, grilling hotdogs and drinking beer, waiting for the celebration. One of the radio stations always syncs its music to the fireworks. That's always fun.
But tonight, we're sitting at home. Fuddy duddies.
Since I wrote that, my wife proved me wrong. She agreed to go out with me. We drove to Addison (about 4 miles away) in a light drizzle, only to find massive traffic snarls. Everyone else wanted to prove they aren't fuddy duddies, either. We finally found a decent spot and watched fireworks for a while...pretty stuff. We didn't staff for the finale, which is always amazing, because we wanted to miss the horrible traffic snarls immediately following. On the way home, we noticed people sitting by the roadside in several places, anywhere there was a decent view toward the west, where the fireworks were visible. There were people parked along a raised portion of Preston Road, a six-eight lane north-south artery nearby. Insanity.
But the fireworks were pretty.
Sunday, July 2, 2006
Fight it.
The polls are closed, but the Mexican media is calling the presidential race in Mexico too close to call. I am hoping the winner will be López Obrador, but I really should not feel like I have a stake in it; ultimately it is only the Mexican people who should decide.
Anyway, I hope the Mexican election does not mimic the 2000 U.S. election...the one in which the idiot loser was ultimately chosen by the Supreme Court to lead our country. If Mexicans find themselves in the same boat, here is my advice: DON'T LET THEM DO IT! REVOLT! TAKE TO THS STREETS! Failure to insist on a fair election and a fair ballot count can be catastrophic. Just look at the U.S.; we have a dim-wit leprechan who things he speaks to god in charge of our country...and he likes to start wars. Fight it!
Anyway, I hope the Mexican election does not mimic the 2000 U.S. election...the one in which the idiot loser was ultimately chosen by the Supreme Court to lead our country. If Mexicans find themselves in the same boat, here is my advice: DON'T LET THEM DO IT! REVOLT! TAKE TO THS STREETS! Failure to insist on a fair election and a fair ballot count can be catastrophic. Just look at the U.S.; we have a dim-wit leprechan who things he speaks to god in charge of our country...and he likes to start wars. Fight it!
Talked into a Stroll
It's 7:00 am and I just got up a short while ago...I'm not sure why I slept in this weekend morning. I waited impatiently for my first cup of coffee, which I hoped would compare favorably to yesterday's dark brew from Starbucks; it did not. I need to buy some more beans. The last time I bought beans was quite some time ago; I bought a 2 pound bag at Costco. They provided good coffee for awhile, but I think they do not stay fresh for long.
My intent this morning was to enjoy the coolness that surely would have accompanied last night's torrential downpour. Surely the rain and wind would have brought with them cooler temperatures. Not so. While it's not hot outside, it's still a rather assertive 74 degrees...comfortable, but I was expecting the high 60s. I may do a walk after my coffee, but I may indulge my laziness this morning, waiting until this evening to get my exercise and break a sweat.
CNN acknowledged that today is election day in Mexico. I visited the CNN website this morning and was astounded to see five short paragraphs devoted to the election. There is something frightening and horrifically arrogant about U.S. media essentially ignoring an event as important as a neighboring country's presidential election. It's one thing if the media reports on it and the public ignores it...but simply finding something about the election in the maintstream U.S. media has been a very tough effort...I have depended almost exclusively on foreign media.
I hear mockingbirds making a racket outside this morning. They are loud, loud, loud! But I like hearing them, making their pronouncements about the day and the roles they will play in it. Maybe I will take a brief walk, just so I can hear them a bit better. If so, it will be a leisurely stroll, rather than a fast-paced effort to get my heart rate up. I need that pace sometimes...and now is one of them. I've convinced myself...this blog can wait.
My intent this morning was to enjoy the coolness that surely would have accompanied last night's torrential downpour. Surely the rain and wind would have brought with them cooler temperatures. Not so. While it's not hot outside, it's still a rather assertive 74 degrees...comfortable, but I was expecting the high 60s. I may do a walk after my coffee, but I may indulge my laziness this morning, waiting until this evening to get my exercise and break a sweat.
CNN acknowledged that today is election day in Mexico. I visited the CNN website this morning and was astounded to see five short paragraphs devoted to the election. There is something frightening and horrifically arrogant about U.S. media essentially ignoring an event as important as a neighboring country's presidential election. It's one thing if the media reports on it and the public ignores it...but simply finding something about the election in the maintstream U.S. media has been a very tough effort...I have depended almost exclusively on foreign media.
I hear mockingbirds making a racket outside this morning. They are loud, loud, loud! But I like hearing them, making their pronouncements about the day and the roles they will play in it. Maybe I will take a brief walk, just so I can hear them a bit better. If so, it will be a leisurely stroll, rather than a fast-paced effort to get my heart rate up. I need that pace sometimes...and now is one of them. I've convinced myself...this blog can wait.
Saturday, July 1, 2006
Get my Drift
A hyperactive thunderstorm visited us late this afternoon, bringing gale winds, torrential rains, brilliant lightening, and horrific peals of thunder that shook the foundations of mankind. It lasted just a short while, probably less than 20 minutes, but it was a welcome respite from day after day after day of drought conditions and temperatures that cook a person who tries to take a morning walk. I wish I could see what the outside world looks like now, after the deluge, but it's too dark. I hope the hanging baskets in the back yard survived. If so, they should drain quickly. There have been times, though, that our rain did not let up for day upon day upon day, drowning the poor plants, which crave well-drained soil.
I have a deep and abiding fascination with lightening, thunder, black storm clouds, high winds, and other signs of nature's furious power. If I could do it safely, I would stand in the middle of violent thunderstorms, watching the manifestations of every massive burst of energy. At heart, I'm one of those crazy people who tracks storms, videotapes them, and glories in their power; I've never done it, but I want to.
This morning, after a shorter-than-intended walk (I only did the loop around my subdivision...I haven't walked hard in several days), I drove to one of the dozen-or-so neighborhood Starbucks and got a mid-sized black coffee. It was still early when I got home, but my wife was already up making her first cup of tea. We jointly planned a morning run to the grocery store...after some slow and leisurely preparation...and zipped over to Albertson's, a store we have both decided is well on its way to oblivion. For now, though, we will continue to shop there as they continue their pointless attempts to stay in business by cutting their prices to below their cost.
After loading up on "stuff" that they are willing to sell below cost, we packed the pantry and the refrigerator and conferred on lunch. The options my wife suggested were: La Calle Doce (our favorite Mexican seafood spot, in the heart of Oak Cliff); Big Shucks (a big, old-fashioned seafood place [mostly fried, but with good seafood coctails]); or Fish Bone Grill, a place that serves cocteles similar to La Calle Doce. I opted for La Calle Doce on the basis that it is in an area I like to visit, while the other places are closer and, consequently, lacking in character and neighborhood "feel."
We wandered through the Bishop Arts District after a nice lunch (coctele de camarones (shrimp coctail) for my wife, coctele de siete mares (shrimp, raw oyster, octopus, scallops, etc.) for me). I succumbed to an iced coffee at the Nodding Dog coffee shop, but we managed to keep our money from leaving our hands otherwise, despite a brush with some nice leaded glass windows that I thought would look good hung on our fence. I decided against spending $175 for something that I believed should be worth no more than $25.
Most of the rest of our day was spent shopping, stopping at a bookstore (we thought about buying Bats at the Beach, which I wrote about recently, but opted not to spend $16 on a book we would glance at once), and generally being unproductive but serving our mental health well. My wife had been saving a coupon for Blockbuster Video that offered any movie for $0.99; we use Netflix now, but the coupon was too appealing to pass up, so we wandered in to a Blockbuster and ultimately selected a movie called Milwaukee, Minnesota. It's worth watching, but the critics' positive reviews seemed to overlook some significant flaws...but we enjoyed the movie, despite being ticked at some rather exceptional screw-ups in logic and editing.
During the course of the day, after the leaded glass experience I believe, we decided we really wanted to visit an architectural salvage place we visited years ago when we lived in Arlington. At the time, I bought 3 commercial fixed windows for $90 total to use as clerestory windows in a storage shed I built. It was a great place...anything and everything from old homes. But we cannot remember the name, nor the location...and cannot find it in the telephone directory nor online. We have found similar places, but not the same place...we will keep trying.
Now, we're home. I'm waiting to get more news from around the world. My wife is sleeping. I picked up an Al Dia fin de Semana newspaper (Spanish language weekend newspaper) during our forays into Oak Cliff and will try to read something about the Mexican elections being held tomorrow. The English language media in this country are almost ignoring the Mexican elections; short-sighted assholes! I'll try to improve my language skills while getting another perspective on Mexican politics. I am afraid I won't learn much, because I won't be able to read much. But I will try.
I have a deep and abiding fascination with lightening, thunder, black storm clouds, high winds, and other signs of nature's furious power. If I could do it safely, I would stand in the middle of violent thunderstorms, watching the manifestations of every massive burst of energy. At heart, I'm one of those crazy people who tracks storms, videotapes them, and glories in their power; I've never done it, but I want to.
This morning, after a shorter-than-intended walk (I only did the loop around my subdivision...I haven't walked hard in several days), I drove to one of the dozen-or-so neighborhood Starbucks and got a mid-sized black coffee. It was still early when I got home, but my wife was already up making her first cup of tea. We jointly planned a morning run to the grocery store...after some slow and leisurely preparation...and zipped over to Albertson's, a store we have both decided is well on its way to oblivion. For now, though, we will continue to shop there as they continue their pointless attempts to stay in business by cutting their prices to below their cost.
After loading up on "stuff" that they are willing to sell below cost, we packed the pantry and the refrigerator and conferred on lunch. The options my wife suggested were: La Calle Doce (our favorite Mexican seafood spot, in the heart of Oak Cliff); Big Shucks (a big, old-fashioned seafood place [mostly fried, but with good seafood coctails]); or Fish Bone Grill, a place that serves cocteles similar to La Calle Doce. I opted for La Calle Doce on the basis that it is in an area I like to visit, while the other places are closer and, consequently, lacking in character and neighborhood "feel."
We wandered through the Bishop Arts District after a nice lunch (coctele de camarones (shrimp coctail) for my wife, coctele de siete mares (shrimp, raw oyster, octopus, scallops, etc.) for me). I succumbed to an iced coffee at the Nodding Dog coffee shop, but we managed to keep our money from leaving our hands otherwise, despite a brush with some nice leaded glass windows that I thought would look good hung on our fence. I decided against spending $175 for something that I believed should be worth no more than $25.
Most of the rest of our day was spent shopping, stopping at a bookstore (we thought about buying Bats at the Beach, which I wrote about recently, but opted not to spend $16 on a book we would glance at once), and generally being unproductive but serving our mental health well. My wife had been saving a coupon for Blockbuster Video that offered any movie for $0.99; we use Netflix now, but the coupon was too appealing to pass up, so we wandered in to a Blockbuster and ultimately selected a movie called Milwaukee, Minnesota. It's worth watching, but the critics' positive reviews seemed to overlook some significant flaws...but we enjoyed the movie, despite being ticked at some rather exceptional screw-ups in logic and editing.
During the course of the day, after the leaded glass experience I believe, we decided we really wanted to visit an architectural salvage place we visited years ago when we lived in Arlington. At the time, I bought 3 commercial fixed windows for $90 total to use as clerestory windows in a storage shed I built. It was a great place...anything and everything from old homes. But we cannot remember the name, nor the location...and cannot find it in the telephone directory nor online. We have found similar places, but not the same place...we will keep trying.
Now, we're home. I'm waiting to get more news from around the world. My wife is sleeping. I picked up an Al Dia fin de Semana newspaper (Spanish language weekend newspaper) during our forays into Oak Cliff and will try to read something about the Mexican elections being held tomorrow. The English language media in this country are almost ignoring the Mexican elections; short-sighted assholes! I'll try to improve my language skills while getting another perspective on Mexican politics. I am afraid I won't learn much, because I won't be able to read much. But I will try.
Mexican Elections
Tomorrow is election day in Mexico. Mexican voters will elect a new president, along with the entire 500-seat Camara de Diputados (like the U.S. House of Representatives) and half of the 128-seat Senate. Nine Mexican states and many municipalities, including the State of Jalisco and the municipality of Chapala, also hold elections July 2. In Jalisco, Mexican political analysts expect the gubernatorial race between Arturo Zamora of the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) and Emilio Gonzalez of the National Action Party (PAN) to be extremely close...too close to call. The PRI, which lost power in the last presidential election after 71 years, is still relatively powerful in the Senate and Camara de Diputados.
The two (of five) presidential candidates who are running neck-and-neck are left-leaning Andrés Manuel López Obrador (referred to as AMLO, I read somewhere) of the Democratic Revolution Party (PRD) and right-leaning, Felipe Calderón of the National Action Party (PAN). The race has been a see-saw between AMLO and Calderón, with Calderón recently rising in the polls. However, recent violence against teachers on strike in Oaxaca may increase support there for AMLO, who is viewed by the Bush administration as a bad actor...and who, therefore, must have some positive attributes. One website I read said: "For the first real time in decades, a pronounced left-right polarization in Mexican politics is resurfacing and rekindling long-standing divisions that were submerged somewhat during previous elections by a common focus on ousting the PRI from power. Ultra-conservative groups are reviving and updating old, anti-communist messages, casting Lopez Obrador in the same mold as Fidel Castro, Hugo Chavez and Evo Morales."
In Chapala, the race for mayor is between Gerardo Degollado, Roberto Gutierrez, Jaime Mexia, Nicolas Padilla, and Patricia Rodriguez, who is the first woman to run for mayor of Chapala (and who is affiliated with the Partido Nueva Alianza, an offshoot of the PRI). I've not read anything predicting the outcome of the mayoral election in Chapala.