Candidate Compatibility Calculator

Someone indirectly related to me by proximity to a non-blood relative (my sister-in-law's boyfriend) made me aware of a candidate calculator that purports to measure one's compatability with the Presidential candidates based on the degree to which their positions match yours. I came up with a 96+% match with Dennis Kucinich. Too bad he won't be the next President. Here's more on the status of how people are stacking up with the candidates:

2008 Election

Who is Your
Perfect Candidate?

When I'm Sixty-Four

I'm in Berkeley, visiting my sister in advance of a meeting in San Francisco. Just part of a day in Berkeley makes me realize that this is the sort of environment I want to live in...the climate is right, both political and otherwise.

My sister and I went to a very nice event last night in Oakland, a benefit for Girls, Inc., where we met some of her friends. They're very nice people, the sort of folks one seldom encounters where I'm from. I've done a bit of reading online since attending the event (called Women of Taste). The organization is impressive and the event is nothing short of amazing, with opportunities to sample fabulous food and some great wine. The event raises money through tickets to the event, as well as through a silent auction. Here's a link to the event website and here's a link to the organization's website.



OK, maybe I've found the place I should be. How can I find the wherewithal to make it home? I've got it, I'll create a ten-year plan....so when I'm 64, I will be able to make the move. Yeah. That's it.

Not Even the Church

I don't know if something new is coming. I don't even know what I was referring to last night. I'm losing my mind.

I want to be telling other stories, stories that are informative and entertaining and surprising. I need different experiences to tell different stories. But I want my stories to be true. So I don't need stories, I need facts. Experiential facts. Entertaining, informative, experiential facts.

I think I can be someone else. The question, of course, is whether I can make that happen as an adjunct to who I am. Or does it have to replace me? I'm a little worried about that. I'd hate to leave and not be able to come back. No story, no explanation, no comfort to the ones left behind. That's not what I'm after. I'm after a new me, with a new experience, with a new definition of what's important and what's not.

Sometimes, I wonder what migratory birds are seeing and thinking and feeling as they cross the lands beneath their remarkable wings. I'm impressed with them. I want to communicate with them. I want to understand them. Not just the genetic drive, the physical directive, the encoded directions. I want to know them at the cellular level...at the level where our consciences can meet and communicate.

It could be too much gin. Or it could be too much pain. Or it might be too many questions and not enough answers.

No one has the answers to my questions. Not even the church. But they never have. Indeed, I've always felt the church was a teacher, just not the kind I wanted or needed or that I felt was good for the student. But churches aren't fundamentally bad. They're just deluded and willing to be misled by silly bullshit instead of challenged to think about realities.

OK. I'll stay out of your way tonight. But only tonight.

A Good Change All Around

I'm briefly back home, after a moderately strange time participating in an annual conference for a professional society to which I belong. I changed my mind, back and forth, to and fro, several times. I am nothing if not steadfast in my assessments of situations. I learned alot about me, accidentally, and thought I'd grown. That is, until this afternoon, at which time I lapsed into being the prick I can sometimes be. I don't understand. I am not as smart as I once thought.

In a matter of days, I'm off to the west coast, including a couple of days with a sister who lives there. Then, more west coastness...being involved in another client trade show. I'm glad I have the client. I keep telling myself that. It's better than not having a client and wishing I did.

Something will change soon. I have evidence and good data upon which to base my forecast. The goodness of the change depends on your perspective, I guess. I hope the change, as dramatic as it will be, will be a good change all around.

Roped and Wrestled

I allowed myself to be roped in to serve on the board of directors of a professional society. The organization will hold its annual conference over the next few days, so I'm off to be a part of it, including a board dinner tonight, board meeting tomorrow, and various educational programs thereafter. I've been feeling, of late, that my involvement in all of this is purely for show...not mine, theirs. The board is ineffective, not even involved. It's a showpiece for the person who really runs the show. I think I'll have some quiet conversations behind the scenes, expressing my displeasure with the way things are...and then wait to see what, if anything, changes. If nothing changes, I shall resign and direct my energies elsewhere. It's no skin off my nose. I do hate to be there just for show, particularly when all the expenses associated with my service are borne by me...travel, hotel, meals, registration fees, everything.

The one pleasantry with all this is that I get to see a very few people I enjoy being around and I get to remove myself from my office for awhile. On this trip, I get to hit the open road for awhile, too, since the event is only a few hundred miles from home.

Benevolent Bloodshed

Snarl! Growl! Snap! Bark!

I'm considering changing my company name and line of business. It would be Associated Hatred & Malevolence, Inc., which will specialize in euthanizing nasty and unruly clients of professional service firms, after first doing to them what they tend to do to my company when the mood strikes. My title in the rebranded firm will be Supreme Incubus. I will employ an Executive Vice Succubus to deal with the clients for which my nature may not be appropriate.

If you'd like to apply for a position with the firm, submit your resume, along with references which will attest to your experience with gallows humor, jocular homicidal rages, and facetious torture. Must be facile with all manner of weaponry, including explosives, knives, guns, nuclear arms, and flamethrowers.

Today was yet another blockbuster. I love being self-employed, sometimes. Not today, of course, but sometimes.

Dead Politicians, Live Poets

Blinking in front of video camera is becoming old hat to me. A representative of a local television station came to my office today to ask me a few questions for another station, in another Texas city. It has become routine for me. Except for-wondering whether the broadcast version will make me look like a beached whale. Not that the cameraman can control that.

Things are going haywire with some of my clients. It won't be long, if things go as they have been going, before they are unable to pay me. Not my fault, but certainly my concern. If only I could coordinate the copier lease, the telephone system contract, the office space lease, etc., I'd just slowly prepare to ease out of this mess. But things aren't so smooth. So, I guess I'll have to pursue more business, try to fix what I have, and reconsider the contracts we enter. Excuse me, but I'm going to utter a profanity: God damn mother fucker! I wish I had more control over the world. There would be fewer live polititians and more living poets.

Thanks, isabelita and Kathy, for your comments on my attempt to capture Spanish for my own private uses. Quiero vivir en un mundo hermoso. Si los deseos fueron caballos, todos nosotros tendríamos alas.

Spanish

Tonight was the first night of my 9-week (or is it 18-week) Spanish class. It's amazing how much I've forgotten, but surprising how much I remember when given the right prompts. One thing is clear: I will not be fluent by the end of the class. I will not even be incoherent. But I will be better than I am now.

Grrr...

During our random wanderings over the weekend just passed, my wife and I stumbled upon a new-construction subdivision about 45 miles north of Dallas, in a long-dormant town called Val Alstyne. It's amazing how many little communities north of Dallas are being turned into bedroom communities. Anyway, on a whim we stopped to look at a rather nice-looking four-bedroom one-story home with dry-stacked stone facade....really, a very nice-looking place. It was 2400+ square feet with a beautiful open-style living area (kitchen with the obligatory granite counter-tops, huge island kitchen, stainless appliances, giant walk-in closets, etc.). The price: $214K, a huge discount from what we expected. Anthing like it in Dallas would go for a minimum of $295K. My wife and I immediately liked the place and thought (at least I did) we should borrow the design and start construction on a similar place on our land in Falba. I'm guessing I could get the same place built for $160K or less down there...and we could have a pool and jacuzzi and massive garden, along with a big barn and tractor and...

I'm really wishing it, but not thinking it is really reasonable to pursue.

Let's see, in the real world: next Saturday, I go to The Woodlands, TX for a meeting, followed exactly a week later by a trip to San Francisco for another client event. I'll spent the first 2-3 days in SF with my sister, who lives in Berkeley. And then a week in meetings. Grrrr...

Grrr...

During our random wanderings over the weekend just passed, my wife and I stumbled upon a new-construction subdivision about 45 miles north of Dallas, in a long-dormant town called Van Alstyne. It's amazing how many little communities north of Dallas are being turned into bedroom communities. Anyway, on a whim we stopped to look at a rather nice-looking four-bedroom one-story home with dry-stacked stone facade....really, a very nice-looking place. It was 2400+ square feet with a beautiful open-style living area (kitchen with the obligatory granite counter-tops, huge island kitchen, stainless appliances, giant walk-in closets, etc.). The price: $214K, a huge discount from what we expected. Anthing like it in Dallas would go for a minimum of $295K. My wife and I immediately liked the place and thought (at least I did) we should borrow the design and start construction on a similar place on our land in Falba. I'm guessing I could get the same place built for $160K or less down there...and we could have a pool and jacuzzi and massive garden, along with a big barn and tractor and...

I'm really wishing it, but not thinking it is really reasonable to pursue.

Let's see, in the real world: next Saturday, I go to The Woodlands, TX for a meeting, followed exactly a week later by a trip to San Francisco for another client event. I'll spent the first 2-3 days in SF with my sister, who lives in Berkeley. And then a week in meetings. Grrrr...

About Time

A cool Saturday morning can give me an entirely different perspective on life. It may be that the temperature outside is in the upper 60s, or that I can hear the chirpring of birds, or the the sky is bright and clear. It may be the squirrels darting about in the trees and racing across the street, stopping to sit upright and poke their heads into the air. It may be a combination. Whatever it is, I feel good this morning. It's about time. I'll take a sip of coffee, click my cup against a kitchen cabinet, and hope it lasts.

Waterspouts and Waterspots

The news from Lake Chapala in Mexico continues to be bad. Lots of damage in San Juan Cosala but, fortunately so far, little reported loss of life. It's surprising to me that American media has completely ignored the horrific weather-related catastrophe in a Mexican village. Next time a Katrina comes around, I think they should reciprocate, instead of gathering materials together to send to help.

OK, back to my smooth...I'll be calm.

The regular work-week is over, but there's more to come. My wife, who I hoped I'd convinced not to work weekends, plans on going to the office tomorrow. This business of ours is not worth the misery it causes and the time it robs from us. I refuse to do it anymore...work on weekends...unless absolutely required. My work is falling behind and I have all the classic symptoms of burnout, but I don't care. Let all the clients just walk off. Fuck them. We'll survive if we have to work as crossing guards. This is probably not healthy. But it's too late to be healthy.

Where did my smooth go? I intended... Oh, well. Maybe it's the fact that I woke up at 4:45 am for a 5:00 am conference call (people from Pakistan to Australia to North America...it's the only time to try). So, I'm tired. Not the time to write in the blog, but I do want to capture my moods...this is one of them.

I found some real relaxation over the past few days reading and viewing Bev's blog at Burning Silo. She and her husband, Don, have spent time recently in Nova Scotia (one of my most important "want to go" places) and she has posted lots about the Bay of Fundy. Her recent post about the tidal bore was fascinating. Through Bev's blog I came across another one, bayoffundy.blogspot.com that I found incredibly fascinating.

OK. Now I'm actually sleepy. I should dream about tidal bores in the Bay of Fundy.

Mexican Storms

I heard today, via email, from my brother and sister in law who live in Mexico, on Lake Chapala. Early this morning, a terrific storm swept through the area, bringing with it a waterspout/tornado that did considerable damage to the area. Fortunately, their home was not damaged and they are OK, but some of their friends had major damage. Mud flowed from the mountain above the lake, smashing homes and cars and filling some streets with several feet of mud and water. There are reports of injuries, though Mexican media is in many cases neither dependable nor technologically saavy, so the reports are questionable at the moment and are hard to come by on the Internet. Hardest hit, apparently, was San Juan Cosalá, a village just west, down thee carretara (highway) from their home. The latest reports I've been able to muddle through on the Spanish media on the Internet suggest that about 1000 people have been displaced by the storm. Here's a link to one of two articles I found.

I was interrupted as I wrote the paragraph above by a Skype call from my brother and sister in law, who assure me that they are OK and that their place is well-situated to be protected from the storms. The forecast calls for more rain, more thunderstorms, and the like or the next several days, very unusual weather for their area. Weather the world over seems to be going sideways, thanks in large part I am certain to humankind's failure to deal with greenhouse gases, carbon fuel overreliance, and George W. Bush. If humankind would just deal with George W. Bush, I'm confident that the remaining time we have left on this planet before it evacuates us from its digestive system would be more comfortable and generally more pleasant all around.

Before I go, back to the media information about the weather calamities in Mexico. I found two articles, both in Spanish. The U.S. media acts, in many cases, as if the rest of the world does not exist. When the rest of the world does exist, it exists only to the extent that it can help our "cause" or cause us irrepairable harm. Why is it that the simply lives of people all over the world have no meaning to American media? I guess it's all part of what comes from leadership: when the president doesn't give a shit and doesn't want to know, then that trickles down. And there, in its glory, is a synopsis of trickledown economics.

Something.

Got some money from the ATM today. Not much, just enough.

Wandered around an area not frequented much by Anglos, ended up in a Mexican restaurant for lunch that could have been a great find, but wasn't. Below average ethnic restaurants abound in ethnic areas; too bad, but it's reality.

We spent about 3-4 hours at the office today, annoyed that we had to be there but glad that today's time will reduce late-night time later in the week.

There are far too many people who believe, truly believe, that the price of 2-3 bedroom houses or townhouses can be reasonable at $300K or more. This in bad-shit insanity, especially in Dallas. I cannot buy that. I cannot tolerate it. My house MUST be worth more than a new-construction townhouse with squeeky stairs and built-in discomfort.

I'm ready to move, or something.

Relative Productivity

This morning, I got up relatively early (before 6:00 am) and was feeling pretty good about that, thinking I'd get going on several projects, not the least of which is me. Some exercise, a boost of energy...yeah, it would be a good way to start the day.

But, before I launched into my self-repair regimen, I decided to do a bit of browsing on the internet. It's now 7:45 am and I've just finished reading Time Magazine's reviews of its 50 Worst Cars of All Time. Normally, I'm not one to throw accolades at Time's writing, but I'm impressed with this one. Here's just a sample of the writing, a review of the 1975 Trabant:

This is the car that gave Communism a bad name. Powered by a two-stroke pollution generator that maxed out at an ear-splitting 18 hp, the Trabant was a hollow lie of a car constructed of recycled worthlessness (actually, the body was made of a fiberglass-like Duroplast, reinforced with recycled fibers like cotton and wood). Or how about this description of the 1982 Camaro Iron Duke?

...the Iron Duke Camaro had 0-60 mph acceleration of around 20 seconds, which left Camaro owners to drum their fingers while school buses rocketed past in a blur of yellow.

So, I wasted my time this morning while I could have been productive. But I had a good time. And my time wasn't all wasted. I took up where my wife left off last night on the great pinto bean cooking escapade...i.e., I took the beans out of the fridge and turned on the slow cooker again. That was after I made myself some coffee. My morning hasn't been wasted, after all...I've been highly productive.

Back to Blogging But Just Barely

I've been neglecting the poor blog most of this week, a shameful thing to do at any time, but especially nasty to do the week after Labor Day. After all the work the blog puts in, I ignore it. Such is life.

Let's see, nothing of particular import has been occuring this week, except for a stubborn would-be cold that won't go away and has not had the decency to transmogrify into a full-blown cold that would require bed rest. I've been sneezy, coughing, have had a sore throat (thanks to sinus drip), and have been dog-tired and ready for naps all week. I've even bed early-to-bed, thanks to this would-be beast. I think it may be getting better, though, so I can go about my business.

This morning, as I was wandering about the Internet Tubes, I came across some interesting music by a guy named Manu Chao, a French Spaniard with Arabic and South/Central American influences, though he sometimes sings in English. Here's a link to a music video I found intriguing, a song entitled Desaparecido. After encountering this, I discovered that he has just released a new album called La Radiolina, which you can learn about at his MySpace page. His music has just been (or maybe currently is?) featured on All Songs Considered on NPR's website.

What else....? Not much else that warrants my time writing, nor your time reading, so I'll post a photo I took when my wife and I visited an arboretum in El Dorado, Arkansas last weekend. I like the photo...one of the few I've taken lately that I find pleasing. It makes me feel the coolness of the morning air, despite the fact that it was as hot as hell the morning I took the picture.

I Flipped a Rock

OK, I am ashamed of my rock-flipping capabilities. And my photographic capabilities. But I promised I'd post the results of my rock flipping, so here are a couple. Incidentally, I should have a photo of the rock before the flip, then a photo of what I uncovered. I forgot. I did see lots of tiny little while maggot-like creatures when I flipped the rocks, but they disappeared too fast for my camera. So, here is my support of International Rock Flipping Day, good in spirit if not in execution.

Arkansas Road Trip

This will be a brief travelogue...I just need a place to keep my notes.

Thursday afternoon (August 30)
Left Dallas about 2:30 pm. Drove on I-30 east. Stopped in Sulfur Springs and ate at Tradicion Mexicana, a place painted green, red, and white in obvious reverence of the Mexican flag; we wanted a snack. It was open, but not expecting customers. I ordered 1 taco de lengua and 1 taco al pastor; Janine had 1 taco de lengua. They also gave us chips and hot sauce…very good. It rained like crazy while we were eating. When I went to men’s room, the floor was awash in water from outside.

The guy at the cash register was very nice. He took our order, then went to the kitchen and told them, in Spanish, what to make for us. The cook did it and then delivered the food to us, then quickly came back with salsas, chopped cilantro and onion, and limes. The cook was a young guy with lots and lots of tattoos all over his arms. He spoke a little English, I think, but not much.

We stopped in Texarkana and stayed at the La Quinta, same place we stayed before. My wife decided we should eat at Dixie Diner #2, one of 3 local chain restaurants. She had chicken livers; I had chicken fried steak. The utensils were dirty, so we go replacements. The food was so-so, in my opinion.

Friday, August 31, 2007
I had a couple of hard-boiled eggs and a sausage roll from the continental breakfast offering at the hotel. Off we went, heading toward Little Rock and the Clinton Presidential Library. On the way, we stopped in Benton, Arkansas to view some interesting Victorian architecture. While there, we came across the Gann Building, claimed to be the only building built of bauxite in existence today. Dr. Dewell Gann, Sr. had patients who could not pay him, so they built an office for him...they cut the soft bauxite from a nearby farm and allowed it to harden for six weeks before building the structure for him.

When we got to Little Rock, just about lunchtime, we ate at Loca Luna, a place my wife had read about about on Food Network...Rachel Ray had or will have a focus on the place on one of her shows. It was an exceptionally good place. We had chile con queso, a different version than I’m used to…white melted cheese with green peppers (hottish, but not blazing) and various spices…very good. Then, I had a salad with a tomato dressing (fabulous) and a margherita pizza with goat cheese on top (the cheese was my requested addition). My wife had a wonderful cream of roasted red pepper soup. The menu looked fabulous…definitely a place to go back to.

Then, we went to the library. It's a tremendous place and a stark reminder of how far we’ve fallen since he left office. Despite his failings, on his worst day he was a 100 times better than Bush on Bush’s best day. I have a few pictures…including this picture of the Bridge to the 21st Century, an old bridge that crosses the Arkansas River and deadends at the Presidential Library.

While we were on the way to Little Rock, we listened to an interesting radio program by Bruce Cochran, who talked about wine. It was worth listening to and worth finding again. So, here's a link to his website, which has a link to enable live streaming of his program or later download.

Afterward, we wandered around near the library, went to the library gift store, and I bought a t-shirt. I’ll try to get a picture of my shirt, one day, and post it here. Incidentally, my photos of the library are pretty lousy. You can see better photos by clicking here.


Then, we headed east, not knowing just how far we’d go…maybe it would be to North Little Rock, maybe further. During the drive, we witnessed what I'll call a "numeric automotive palindrome." As you can see from the photo, I took this picture of my odometer while I was driving at just under seventy miles per hour. Do not do this. I find it reprehensible for other people to drive as recklessly as I have been known to do.

We went further. We got to Memphis and decided to stay at a Hampton Inn in West Memphis, AR. We had dinner at Neely’s Interstate BBQ, which has recently been featured on Alton Brown’s Feasting on Asphalt. We got the sampler, which included beef and pork ribs, pulled pork, beef brisket, slaw, potato salad (an add-on), baked beans, tea…it was good, but a bit disappointing compared to my expectations. My wife got a to-go piece of sweet-potato pie, which turned out to be a miniature pie in its own tiny tin.


Saturday, September 1
My favorite wife decided we should avoid spending a day in Memphis on Saturday, so she pulled out her maps and got us on the Great River Road. We wandered down the Great River Road through vast fields of cotton, corn, and long-forgotten buildings that reflect how powerful neglect and the lack of money can be. Here are a few shots:

The first one is a shot of a tractor in a field against a backdrop of a huge automated irrigation system. The irrigation systems we saw were impressive, though probably horrifically wasteful. The monster John Deere tractors we saw paled in comparison to other pieces of equipment (unfortunately, I didn't get pictures of the really big stuff...I was too awestruck by its size to think of pictures).

The second and third photos are examples of the dozens of huge old buildings...barns, homes, silos, etc...that have decayed almost into oblivion. If I were an artist or a professional photographer, I would call some of these pieces "Legacy of the George Bush Presidencies," if for no other reason than to underscore the fact that a family has broken a country, not the other way around. Note in the second photo the new structures behind the dilapidated building. Preservation...nahh.


The old red monster looks like it could have been an impressive building it ins day. I wish I had some idea of when these buildings were built and what they were once used for. Sometime, I wonder how quickly we plan obsolescence, or why we fail to take it into account when we build something big and expensive.

My wife had found yet another Alton Brown Feasting on Asphalt joint and we headed that way. This one was Ray's Dairy Maid, a tiny little diner with a take-out window where we saw quite a few people drop in to get food to go. It also has just a few tables inside, which is where we opted to have our lunch. The place looks like it needs a serious cleaning, but the people are exceptionally nice and the food was much better than I had expected (Alton and friends had pie there, not lunch). I ordered the special of the day, which was a ham and turkey melt on grilled sourdough bread, with a side of fries. I expected shaved turkey and ham...instead, they cut large, thick slices of ham and very thick slices of turkey, then grilled them and put them on top of the grilled bread, with a white cheese (I also got jalapeños on mine). It was astonishingly good! My wife had a small hamburger with tater tots. Hers was OK, but mine...I'm a believer in that food now. My wife also got a piece of one of their pies, which they make onsite...she got the pecan coconut...very tasty.

As we wandered down the Great River Road, we discovered that, at one point, it became a very narrow and completely unpaved and untraveled road through a thick woods. That stretch lasted about fourteen miles. Here is a shot of the road...very peaceful place. However, after quite a few miles on a very rough, very remote road with no traffic in either direction, I began to wonder if we had made a wrong turn somewhere along the way. No, there was no wrong turn, just a long, long empty stretch of a rough road through a dense forest.

We stayed overnight that night at a Comfort Suites in El Dorado, Arkansas. We had dinner that night at a pretty lousy Mexican restaurant called Old Mexico. Don't waste your money. The service was abysmal, the food was tasteless, and it was generally a place to avoid. The next morning, we had breakfast at Johnny B's Grill at 211 S. West Avenue. I'd recommend it...both of us had a fairly big but fairly common and hard to make wonderful breakfast (eggs, bacon [me], sausage [she], biscuits, etc.). But my "scattered" hashbrowns had peppers, jalapeños, onions, etc., etc. on them and they were especially good.

From El Dorado, we headed toward Texarkana, using backroads and lightly-traveled highways. It was a pleasant drive. We were not hungry by the time we reached Texarkana, so we kept going. We got as far as New Boston and decided we should eat because we planned to wander back roads from there on and might not find anything open or worth eating at. So we ate at a place not worth eating at in New Boston, the Pitt Grill, a place abuzz with swarms of flies. Most of the waitstaff looked like they were non-recovering meth addicts and acted the same. I had a Texas Philly cheesesteak, which wasn't too bad but I did wonder about the flies and whether they had spent time in the kitchen with the beef. I figured that the 3 whole jalapeños I ate with the meal probably killed the larvae. My wife had a BLT that looked rather flimsy and unsubstantial. Stay away from New Boston...it looks and acts like a hillbilly redneck drug den.

From there, we headed north toward Paris, Texas. We did notice, while we were passing through DeKalb, Texas, that there is a decent-looking eatery (we didn't get the name...but we thought it was FSJ steakhouse, but could only find Front Street Junction on the internet as a possibility) on Highway 82...it was open about 2pm on Sunday, September 2. De Kalb, incidentally, is the birthplace of Dan Blocker, the actor who played Hoss Cartwright on the old television show, Bonanza. We wandered back roads and finally made our way to Paris, where we noticed (for a future trip) Old Town Seafood on the square. We went to the chamber of commerce building and found, of course, that it was closed. We had hoped to find a replica of the Eifel Tower, which I vaguely remember reading about not long ago...to not avail. Maybe next trip.

We didn't have any particular timeframe or destination in mind, so we just drove, stopping occasionally to stretch or get water or what have you. We did go through Bonham, at which point my wife remembered that, years ago, we had stopped at a hamburger joint near the Sam Rayburn Library and had eaten wonderfully flavorful Ortega chile burgers. Alas, the place is gone.

Heading west, we found ourselves in Denison, where we had an early dinner at the Jalapeño Tree Restaurant. The hostesses were useless...two moronic teenage girls who didn't understand that their idiotic conversations between one another should stop when guests walk in the front door and stand before them for a good 30 seconds. The food was dull and unimaginative. The place was decorated to the gills in all sorts of things that cried "artificial Mexicana." It looked to me like a very, very nasty chain restaurant. We soon discovered that it is, although it's only a regional chain. With the food and service, it will never make it nationally. Please. It should not be a national chain. It shouldn't even be a local chain.

We were tired of driving by the time we finished eating, but we had another 70 miles to go, so we hopped on the Interstate and headed south. Just as we got to the gas station where we stopped to buy a Sunday paper, it started raining. We decided it was time to sleep in our own bed for a change.

September 2--International Rock Flipping Day

We're back home, after a whirlwind day, beginning with breakfast at a diner in El Dorado, Arkansas. Then, a walk through the local arboretum...and then the roadtrip. We took the back roads most of the trip, but I'm not looking at a map and I was not the navigator, so I don't know how we got back. I know we went throught Texarkana, had lunch at a sleezy joint in New Boston, then wandered north to Paris, stopped at the Chamber of Commerce (closed, of course), wandered through some other small towns, drifted west, stopped for an early dinner in Denison, then headed south to Dallas. I'm ready to hit the road again, but work will call soon.

We kept some notes. We'll describe some of our escapades in more details, soon. And, since today was International Rock Flipping Day, we'll post (later) a photo or two I took to commemerate the occasion...and I'll include links to people who are more serious photographers and observers than I.