Leaving 2007

So, it's come to this. The year is ending. In Sydney, Australia, it has already ended. The year 2007 was escorted out to great celebrations, signs that people there have great hope for 2008 being a very different, and much better, year.

In England, they're reporting that Michael Bloomberg is considering a run for president in 2008. Hmmm. He's not the dark-horse I've been waiting for.

Everyone knows, of course, that the close of one year and the launch of a new one is purely artificial. One day is the same as the next. But, in keeping with the spirit of the New Year introspections in which we all engage (admittedly or not), here are my thoughts:

• 2008 will be a big improvement over 2007 because we know that Bush will be replaced when the votes of November are cast. I have a deep concern that we're probably going to be looking at four years, minimum, of nothing, but at least Bush will be gone.


• In 2008, I'm going to take steps to improve my chances at retiring in the near future. What those steps will be remain to be seen.


• While I'm known far and wide as someone who's not spiritual and am an avowed atheist, in 2008 I'm going to at least adopt a more tolerant attitude toward mass delusion. And, I'm going to explore how some things, often called spiritual, can in fact impact one's physical and mental well-being...things like meditation.


• I've let myself grow fat and lazy. In 2008, I'll take steps to regain my better health and a better lifestyle.


• Focus. Identify goals, and then focus on achieving them. Focus.

With luck, an intelligent, articulate leader who can inspire the public to sacrifice for the greater good will arise in 2008.

Dream. Dream, dream, dream. Dream.

Looking for Something

There's this thing that grates at me, makes me angry at I don't know what.

Every time I head home from a could-have-been vacation I feel it, like dull claws buried deep down inside me somewhere, trying to tear away whatever it is that won’t let them out. Every time I turn toward home, I know that, yet again, they won't get out this time.

The time away is never long enough, never strong enough to wash away what it was intended to cleanse.

I always plan to make it longer, but then wonder whether it's not another vacation I need, whether it's another vocation. Is it the time away I need, or is it a time machine?

When I see those ancient tractors and those desolate cotton gins and those weather-worn fences, I know that, somewhere among them, are the reasons I go looking. But I don’t know what I’m looking for. I just know it’s out there, hidden beneath a wind-battered sign or stuck back in the corner of a dark diner in a small town where everyone has left for something better.

I reach for a place I need, but still don’t know what I’m reaching for. I know I’ve been close sometimes, though, when I head home and get that feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’m heading in the wrong direction.

I get upset and angry, like a caged animal. I want to strike out but I don’t know what I’m striking at. It makes me angry at I don’t know what.

Photo Gallery

A few random photos from our winter vacation. I wasn't paying much attention with my camera on this trip. We used our binoculars alot, but didn't get many photos. Maybe next time.

What's the Story?

I just spent about half an hour reading and listening to Story Corps programs from the past several months and even further back. I shouldn't do that. It makes my eyes water.

I know, I know, such weakness of spirit is anathema to people with infallible emotional armor, but my armor has a few chinks in it.

The Road

Yesterday, we awoke in Bastrop and decided to forego an early breakfast. Instead, we went searching for a place I had found the night before while searching the Internet for land in the area. It was advertised as a 3 bedroom, 1 bath home on 2 acres of land on the Colorado River. The best part was the price: $148,000. I had to see the place. So, off we went, looking for the home that would be ours, our little retirement haven.

We don't yet know what, but some special event was in the making in old downtown Bastrop yesterday. Main Street downtown was closed, as were all the side streets leaving into Main Street. People were everywhere, working to get ready for the "special event" that the signs warned of. We managed to work our way around the street closures and found our way to the house in question. It was among a number of other manufacturered homes, all of which had seen better days, partially hidden by chicken coops and dilapidated old fences and steep ridges near the river's edge. Our place was far off the road, but within spitting distance of houses on either side. The two acres, it seems, were configured something like a toothpick. Ah, well, our dream home in our dream price range was not to be, not yesterday. But the search goes on, at least in my mind.

From Bastrop, we backtracked to La Grange, home of the infamous "Chicken Ranch," a brothel that operated for decades before being shut down in 1973, thanks to a reporter for a Houston television station who decided there was something immoral going on around those parts and, better yet, that he could make a name for himself. The Chicken Ranch is long gone, but LaGrange has a nice courthouse, a pretty little downtown, and a nice park along the river. It's not a bad little place, not bad at all.

We decided to have breakfast at Frank's Place, an old restaurant on the square. While it may once have been an old-time country diner, it is no longer. I'm guessing it's a draw mostly to tourists (judging from the prices for breakfast). After finishing our expensive and somewhat disappointing breakfast, we drifted north toward Giddings. Giddings is another nice little town that merits another visit.

In Giddings, we decided it might be a good idea to head to Taylor, home of Louie Mueller's barbeque restaurant. Our collective memories said to us that we had never eaten there, because we had always tried it on Sundays...and it is closed Sunday. But, when we got there, we realized we had eaten there. That realization, coupled with the fact that the line was out the door and we were not particularly hungry, convinced us to move on.

We drifted north from Taylor and travelled numerous small, country roads that had virtually no traffic. By 2:30 pm, we had reached Bartlett, a small town where we had once stopped before for a little roadside barbeque at a little stand called Perez' Barbeque. It was still there, so we stopped. All they had left was a little brisket, so I ordered a bit and asked if we could sit outside, where there were a couple of other people sitting. Even though it was obviously intended as a resting spot for the owners/workers, they readily agreed. So, we sat at the table munching on brisket and having a conversation with J.J., a 72-year-old black man who retired from General Motors in Arlington, another young black guy and his very young son, and a Hispanic guy who was just visiting (I gather his brother and father run the barbeque spot) from Arizona. Just about the time we were ready to leave, the older Hispanic guy who served us came outside and asked J.J. if he'd brought the dominoes, because he was ready for a game.

As we were zig-zagging north and northeast, we began discussing whether we should look for another motel for the night or drive all the way back to Dallas. The lack of anything of particular interest to look for and a desire o save a few bucks resulted in the decision to head home. And, so, here we are.

We both need to get some work done at the office before we kick off the new year, but we sure don't want to. I'm already ready to hit the road.

Decompressing Ramblings

On December 27, we woke a bit late from our night in Port Lavaca, around 8:00 am and went to breakfast at a place called Tacos. My wife had a nopalito taco and a bean and bacon taco. I had a carne guisada taco and a potato and jalapeno taco. Generally, pretty good stuff.

Then, we drove south, roaming around Indianola and Alamo Beach and places nearby. We watched the bay for a long time, eyeing a freighter bearing two flags; US and a red flag with blue square in upper left corner…something on blue field, but not sure what. We saw lots of birds; pelicans, roseate spoonbills, ducks, geese (Canada and Snow), and lots of others.

SeveThere were several places for sale on or near the beach. We finally found a for sale sign with prices: $150,000 each for 4 50x100 lots. The more affluent owners in the area, or maybe it's the municipal officials, seem designed to run off people who own the tiny plots with trailers. The plan: get taxes too high, they must go, then we can take their land.

Later, we headed on to Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, where we saw various sea birds, etc., but not as exciting as Indianola and yesterday.

We drove through Rockport and Port Aransas. Rockport is a great example of stupid, misplaced greed being used in place of intellect in urban planning. Yech! I once would have liked to have lived there. No longer.

We drove on to Corpus Christi and wandered around, saw one of my childhood homes, and generally goofed off for the afternoon. We finally decided to stay overnight in Corpus and got a room a the La Quinta on Old Brownsville Rd. in an area I wasn't familiar with.

Then, we drifted off to have dinner. We end up at steak place (Long Horn Steak and Ale, I think). 2 ribeyes and baked potatoes. My wife had a margarita, I had a vodka martini with olives. We had planned to eat seafood at a place called the Yardarm, but it was closed for several days. Service was less than great at the place.

On the way back to the hotel, we stopped to buy gas at an Exxon. The sign said it was $2.959 per gallon. It was not manned…only the electronic pumps. After a short stint toward filling the tank, I realized I was being charged $3.459 per gallon. After getting to the hotel, I sent messages to two local TV stations, encouraging them to go after the thieves. I'm confident nothing will happen.

As we were driving around an area of town called Six Points, I noticed a restaurant called Price's Chef, a restaurant I remember from my very early childhood in Corpus. I learned that it has been sold at least twice since I lived there, most recently about five or six months ago, to a couple from California who wanted a slower pace and a lower cost of living than LA.

Today, we ate breakfast at Price's chef and then went downtown to the bayfront, where we watched pelicans and shrimpboats and a surprisingly desolate tourist area.

When we finally hit the road, we drifted north through Portland, Gregory, Taft, Sinton, Woodsborough, Refugio, Victoria...and on and on. In Woodsboro, we did a quick spin around the square, where I spied an old cafe and store (sign says it's been there since hte 1940s); I think I recall visiting the little cafe with my dad when I'd travel with him as he'd make his rounds to lumber yards, selling boxcar loads of lumber to them. We'd both get apple pie ala mode at the Woodsboro diner. Our lunch was at Moya's Mexican Restaurant in Refugio. It claims to have been around since the 1930s. The strange thing we both noticed was that every patron and every staff member was Anglo...not a Hispanic in sight. Refugio is a very heavily Hispanic place. Should have been a warning. Food was edible, but only just so. We'd have been better off following our typical nose toward a taqueria where you buy tacos at a window and eat them at a wooden picnic table. But, today was chilly and very windy, so instead we ate at Moya's. Slowest service this side of a Michigan diner where we ate years ago and still talk about today (slow as in breakfast ordered at 6:00 am might make it to the table by noon).

With no particular destination in mind today, we ended up in Bastrop, where we stayed for a night sometime last summer. We're in the same hotel, a Comfort Inn. After relaxing for awhile in the room and cursing at email from the office, we went out for dinner at the Roadhouse, which was good...I had a bacon cheeseburger and my wife had a cup of green chile (pork and green chiles and tomatillos, etc.) and some buffalo wings.

No idea yet what tomorrow holds. Maybe a visit to La Grange, maybe a trip to Giddings, maybe further east or west. We'll see.

A Great Start and then Some...Lurking

The road trip began in earnest yesterday, as we sped south from Dallas to arrive in Houston around 12:30 pm, just in time to help feed the aged and impoverished and infirm that live in my sister's building. The 20 people she'd initially planned to feed had turned into 80 by the time we got there, about 20-30 of whom had decided they did not want to our could not make it downstairs for the meal. For them, a very small group of hard-wording volunteers filled "to-go" containers with turkey, ham, dressing, sweet-potatoes, assorted condiments, etc. and delivered them. The other 50 or so people stood patiently in line (with a couple of exceptions until the shut-ins were fed, then trudged through the line to be served an even more expansive list of food options, topped off with a huge array of dessert options.

When all others had been fed, the rest of us filled our plates and had a very nice dinner. The dining room emptied rather quickly, but a small group of volunteers stayed and cleaned up, wondering what to do with all the left-overs. My sister took a bunch to her apartment, where she will no doubt reinvent them into another dish for someone else who needs or wants it.

Unlike the other Christmas meal programs, with which I have been involved, to feed the less fortunate, this was spontaneous and utterly voluntary. My sister financed the lion's share of the food and food-warming accoutriments that were necessary for the meal. She and a friend cooked the vast majority of the foods in their own ovens, then stored them for the day or two necessary until the event. My sister, whose own finances often fall between bankruptcy and bewilderment, used a small windfall the meal, but of course the size of the project grew so quickly it outstripped her meager windfall. So, a few people donated a few bucks here and a few bucks there; I only hope it was enough to cover the costs.

After the meal and the cleanup were done, we all went to my sister's apartment to talk for awhile...my sister, one of my brothers, my wife, my niece, and I. It was fun, but we couldn't stay long because we had to leave town early enough to find a place on the far fringes of town to bed down for the night.

We got as far as Rosenberg, where we stayed in a Comfort Inn, one we stayed in five years ago. After we got settled, we decided we needed a meal, though neither of us were very hungry...we knew it would catch up to us if we didn't eat. So, we drifted around the old down-town area, which has been transformed into a Hispanic area. We stopped at Tacqueria Jalisco near the downtown square, where we both had various versions of lengua (tongue) and I had a couple of Modelo beers. Then, after stopping briefly at the drugstore to pick up some forgotten drugs to help silence my worsening arthritis, we went back to the hotel and turned in early.

Both of us must have needed our sleep, as we awoke after 9:00 am. No breakfast today. We felt like we should swear off breakfast and dinner for a few months, and should only start eating lunch after a six month sabbatical. Naturally, though, we did eat lunch at a seafood restaurant (Silas' Seafood Restaurant) in Brazoria.

We wandered south passed Brazoria and stumbled onto the San Bernard National Wildlife Refuge. It was fabulous! We spent several hours wandering and then stopping to watch and listen. We saw dozens of varieties of seabirds, migratory fowl, raptors, shore birds, sandhill cranes, egrets, herons, and others. And, while we were watching bunch of grebes in a slow-moving canal, we saw an alligator. I thought it looked like an alligator and mentioned it to my wife, who said, "you mean the thing that looks like a tire?" Just about then, it started to slither way. It was quite a distance from us, but still looked very big. We only saw part of its back and tail, but judging frow what I saw, I'd say it was a good 10-15 feet long. Despite howling winds, the day was well-spent in watching wildlife.

From the refuge, we headed toward Port Lavaca, where we're staying the night in a Best Western. The room is nice, with a big king-size bed, small refrigerator, microwave, and decent TV and couch. In spite our our earlier decision to forgo food for awhile, we decided more seafood would be appropriate, so we finished the day with a meal of fried shrimp. I'm less than enthralled with the food decisions in these parts; fresh shrimp, which could make fabulous cocktails, etc., are generally fried. If I lived here, I think I'd try to educate the folks hereabouts as to the flavor and health and life benefits of eating boiled and broiled and grilled food.

Tomorrow, we're off further south, the plan being to go to the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge and, possibly, on to Corpus Christi. I'll try to take more photos (the few I took today were not of good quality. If I take any good ones, I may post them. First and foremost, though, we just want to be on or near the beaches and see the creatures I remember from childhood and young adulthood.

More as I am moved to post and have something to say. By the way, bloggers, I've been lurking, just haven't left messages.

KathyR, glad the kid (and you) enjoyed the Staples Center; Phil, the 2003 kayak trip can be repeated...I know it can; isabelita, I am glad for your socks and your contentment.

konagod, keep after Texas' executions, but take care that "they" don't come up with a reason to put you on the list; Bev (at Burning Silo), post again soon so I'll know you're OK. alex (at Where the HELL are my penguins?), glad you outsocked Randy, but they nailed you with the iPod..speaking of socks, you and isabelita are in the season on that one. The rest of you...I'm just tired. Suffice it to say I lurked at least a little.

Road Trip Prep

We've dispatched the tamales, chile con queso, and beer. Now, it's a flurry of clothes-washing as we prepare for our south-bound road-trip. If I can blog from the road, I will. Otherwise, I'll make note of anything of particular interest to report on our return.

First, the Goddamn Car, Now This!

It's about 5:30 a.m. on Christmas Eve and I have just made a pot of good, strong coffee. Except for the squirrel/rat/possum/buffalo making a racket in my attic, I might still be asleep. Whatever it is, it's back. I have never figured out how it gets in, but figure it out I must, because I have to get rid of the beast and keep it out. It's damn hard to sleep when a buffalo is prancing about just above the ceiling in the bedroom, ripping pieces of insulation into a thousand pieces and tamping them down just so, in order to make a bed for its soon-to-arrive herd of newborns.

It's too damn cold and I'm too old to go clomping around in the attic, so I think I may hire a buffalo hunter to stake out my attic. I'm going to buy a concrete block to live in. Goddamn animals.

Moby Grape!

A few days ago, I was listening to NPR and was surprised to hear a tune I haven't heard in many, many years. And then, I heard the name of the group that performed it: Moby Grape! I haven't thought of Moby Grape since I was in high school, but the moment I heard the music, it came flooding back.

As I dredged up memories from that long-lost piece of my life in the late 1960s and early 1970s, I remembered another couple of bands I'd long since forgotten, Bubble Puppy, which had a flash in the pan dance with fame (Hot Smoke and Sassafras) and the Bad Seeds, both of which were formed by people around Corpus Christi, Texas, where I lived at the time.

There's a lot about Moby Grape that reminds me of the Grateful Dead...or vice versa. Anyway, for posterity's sake, here's a YouTube video of Omaha, my all time favorite Moby Grape tune.

Christmas on Acid

If you tend to be offended by "stuff," don't read this "stuff." I decided to have some fun with Christmas and churches and all manner of other things that just made me feel like writing "poetry" this morning.


It was late Christmas morning and I awoke with a start
As a man dressed in red thrust a knife toward my heart

He laughed as he sliced me, and drew back for one more
But a leopard named Pansy then leapt through the door

Embroiled in a struggle, they didn't notice me leave
But I had a plan, and an ace up my sleeve

I called out to the reindeer who slept on my roof
"Help me," I said, "Can I borrow your hoof?"

He nodded and charged down, back to my bed,
But the red man and the leopard by then both lay dead

I turned to the reindeer and told him my plan
"If they hadn't been dead, we would have stomped them, see, man."

But the reindeer stood awestruck, as the red man arose,
And slashed out with his knife, at the reindeer's red nose

"Holy shit, he's alive!" the reindeer then snorted,
"It's a miracle, it's magic, holy shit," I retorted.

I then grabbed my cross and some bottled God water
And said, "Back off, heathen, or I'll murder your daughter!"

Well the red man, he laughed, and turned into a toad,
And the reindeer and I said, "Hey, man, hit the road!"

Then, the reindeer got smoky and drifted high in the air
And I smelled some bacon and some grilled grizzly bear.

I got awfully hungry and wanted something to eat
But when I tried walking I noticed rope on my feet

I said, "Hey, what's this rope here, why am I tied?"
"I just don't want to be et up," the grizzly replied.

Then the skies opened widely, what a lovely bright light!
And I heard all the mumbles, "It's just more white flight."

Then a child in a manger started speaking in tongues
And began climbing a ladder, first by steps then by rungs.

I watched as the sky turned from purple to red
Filled with steeples of churches, "Like headstones," I said.

This scene was all scary and making me worry.
I wanted out of that place, right now, in a hurry!

Then it started to wear off, and I said with a grin,
"Happy Christmas, you heathens, it was the acid again!"

I Have to Share a Post with You

One of the blogs I visit, but not often enough, is Grumpy Old Man. You just have to look at his Christmas Special! It's a wonderful tale of his 1969 Christmas in and around Denmark. And our own isabelita posted a comment there, too, as I just did. It's fascinating. And so is he. A curmudgeon after my own heart...a man who views George Bush as the vile vermin that he is.

Christmas Letter

Here is what my Christmas letter would look like, if I were to send one, but I can't send it. Oh, I could, but some people might believe it and then I would go to jail or experience something equally as unappealing.


Dear Friends and Family,

This year has been a wild one indeed for the Geezer family! Mr. Geezer took a trip to Nigeria early in the year. He was able to leave safely, despite the fact that his secret meeting with a popular Nigerian drug lord was recorded by agents of the White House. The White House took a dim view of Mr. Geezer's encouragement to the Nigerians that a surgical strike by their drug insertion team could take care of a lot of the world's problems. As it turns out, the chief druggist isn't the guy Mr. Geezer thought he was, though. So, the opportunity to solve a lot of the world’s problems passed us by. However, Mr. Geezer was able to invest heavily in a scheme to benefit from passing bogus cashiers’ checks in an operation involving Money Gram, Walmart, and the White House.

You may know that Mr. Geezer has been whining about wanting a dog. You'd think the old fart was a 10-year-old-kid, the way he was carrying on. Mrs. Geezer got thoroughly fed up with that crap and insisted that he go out and buy a fucking dog! She pointed out, though, that HE was going to be the one taking the mutt for a walk and HE was going to be the one taking the dog to the vet and HE was the one who was going to scoop up the crap off the carpet and the lawn and the bed. With this little dose of reality thrown in his face, Mr. Geezer backed off the dog idea about mid-year, thought it still surfaces from time to time.

Some of the most exciting things that happened during the year were that we got three phone calls, excluding the nightly interruptions by marketers looking to sell Viagra and timeshares. The first call was from one of Mr. Geezer's sisters in California, who apologized for dialing the wrong number and then hung up. Mrs. Geezer's sister called twice, but the connections were bad, so the calls didn't last long. Both of us have vague recollections of a call from someone else, but we can’t be sure it happened.

But THE most exciting thing that happened just occurred days ago! After almost 28 years of marriage, we decided to have children!

Initially, all the talk was about adopting Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie because they have some of the characteristics we like in children: excessive wealth and an apparent willingness to part with it to support their families. However, during our conversations, it became apparent to both of us that there could be problems with the adoptees, and none of us need to be in the headlines with questions about child-parent incest. Beyond that, they have children, themselves, so that presented its own set of problems. So, even though the first idea went down in flames, we're still pursuing kids to adopt. Our criteria include 1) excessive weath; 2) willing to share that wealth to us, the parents; and 3) willingness to contractually agree to provide for our eternal care if and when either or both of us should become incapable of looking out after ourselves. It’s important, as well, that the adoptees have no plans for children (or, rather, an aggressive plan to avoid children at all costs), since we steadfastly refuse to be grandparents. Not now. Not ever.

We expect to settle on the adoption deal shortly after the first of the New Year, after which we plan to drive to Austin to check on an acquaintance of Mr. Geezer's who just sent us a Christmas letter. She had not sent one last year, but we weren’t worried about the lack of contact. We had assumed the manhunt had been successful and she had finally been apprehended. But this year, she sent a new Christmas letter. She claims to be living in Austin with her "husband," but we've never actually seen him, nor has anyone else we know. Of course, we don't have any mutual friends...in fact, we don't have any friends...so that could be it. Anyway, she claims to be living in Austin with her husband, happily unemployed and selling nails (as in hammer and) on EBay. We're worried about her, since she tends to drink very, very heavily and, when she gets drunk, she gets naked...aggressively so. Mr. Geezer says he'll go down to see her first for a couple or three weeks before Mrs. Geezer makes the trip so he can calm her down first.

Another big piece of news around our house during the year was the hubbub over Mr. Geezer's altercation with a neighbor. The constant howling from the neighbor's children, both pre-teens, disturbed Mr. Geezer's sleep and non-sleep, so he invited the neighbor to either silence the children or dispose of their bodies. In what was an apparent miscommunication following that interchange, the neighbor was beaten nearly to death with his own left leg, which was severed just above the knee in an accident that only Mr. Geezer actually witnessed and can explain. Needless to say, that little dust-up really caused a ruckus in the neighborhood. The childless couples came to Mr. Geezer's defense, but the people who run baby factories that produce litters of ten or twelve yelping little monsters took the side of the police and the one-legged neighbor. Thanks to the fact that the District Attorney has what has been, thus far, a relatively unknown but very expensive cocaine habit, we were able to get his support in resolving the problem and leaving it behind us for now.

After we get the adoption situation resolved, we’re going to try to purchase some area churches and turn them into religious re-education centers. Our idea is that we can use the congregants as the first clients. After that, we’ll begin encouraging the creation of militias in anticipation of the presidential election, which we expect will be subject to the same sort of ballot fraud that ruined the last two.

All the best of the season to you and yours!

We're Off to Engage in Errands

I've spent a good part of the morning so far deleting junk email from my office email account. The crap is flooding in faster than I can delete it. Aaarghh!

I have decided to give up on that for awhile and accompany my wife on a run to the bank, to deposit our last series of client payments for the year. Then, we'll wander down to a great hot dog joint we found recently, but if I'm lucky I won't have a hot dog. Instead, I'll have a Thai burger (they only do burgers on weekends), which is wonderful. Lots of fresh hot peppers, Thai dressing of some sort, cilantro, bean sprouts, slivers of carrots, and other assorted goodies. They're wonderful. We'll have to see if they're serving them.

Then, back to the house to get it ready for our upcoming trip out of town. Of course, we have to go to the office, too, but that may wait until tomorrow. Lots of year-end stuff to do, including payroll, etc.

We're off!

Friday Night Observation

It's Friday night. That's my observation for today. I'm watching Bill Moyers. Just grabbing an opportunity to blog a note during a switch in his guests.

Nibbles of Information and Ideas

Broken Break?
I've been looking forward to the upcoming holiday break for so long. But as it gets closer, a cluster of business-related issues have emerged that collectively have the capacity to draw my mind away from relaxation during our holiday. Bah! I'm not happy about this situation, but there's nothing I can do about it, short of just pitching in the towel and saying I'm closing up shop. That, though, would bring on its own set of concerns. Crap.

Wishing for Roadtrippery
I'm in the midst (off and on), tonight, of watching a special on PBS about The Mother Road, Route 66. I would soooo love to take 60-90 day road trip around the U.S., taking great care to avoid the interstates and focus exclusively on the blue highways, the back roads that protect at least parts of the country from the physical invasion of urbanity and suburbia and the homogeneity that grips us today. It's hard to find places that haven't been inculcated with modern pop culture, though, thanks in large part to some of the amenities I once thought were fabulous...satellite radio, satellite TV, cable, DSL connections, etc. I guess I still appreciate these modern marvels, but wish I had a secret place that had been innoculated against them, a place to which I could retreat and experience serenity.

Cauliflower Subzi
I made cauliflower subzi, an Indian vegetarian dish with cauliflower (really?) and potatoes, among other things (mostly spices), for dinner tonight. I liked it OK, but it was apparent from the start that I had put the recipe down wrong. It was a monster to cook. I shall have to find out, by looking at the original recipe on Indian Food Rocks, what I did to make it go so badly. I'm proud, though, that I recovered and was able to serve a much soupier, less powerfully flavored dish than I expected to produce.

Italian Club
A friend dropped by the office this afternoon to invite my wife and me to a dinner in early January at the Italian Club in Dallas. A very well-known (to him, at least) chef will be there to prepare a host of Tuscan grilled specialties. The cost per person is absurdly low, which explains to me why they're limping along, financially.

My Goddamn Car
The Bastard is back. Today, he cost me $189 to have his oil changed, air filter changed, and flushing and replenishment of his brake fluid, among other odds and ends. They told me his transmission fluid is old and desperately needs replacing, too, along with other regular maintenance items that are obscenely overpriced. I declined most of that, thinking to myself I may take a high voltage wire from a nearby power pole and connect it to his main computer one night as he sleeps. Ostensibly, he is now ready for a road trip, but his recent tantrum that resulted in a flat tire on a cold and wet day makes me think he may have other little irritants ready and waiting for me. He just went past 162K miles and I failed to ooh and aah over the milestone, which probably pissed him off. If he gives me any more shit, I may just offer him up for adoption, for a modest fee.

Random Moments in the Day

Nephew BlogI visited the blog produced by one of my nephews today and discovered that he had responded to a comment I left on it quite some time ago...he, like me, apparently does not view his old posts very often and may not have set up his blog to notify him of comments. He's an artist, though not making a living at it. I'm a writer in the same situation. I'm also an association executive, also in the same situation. It sounds tawdry to call oneself an "executive." But that's what they call them. I'm as much an executive as Barbie is first lady or George is president.

Retirement Dementia
Today, I had lunch with a retired friend who just won't kick back and relax. That might kill him, though. Maybe he just needs to pursue something completely different. But he insists on continuing to work in the same field I am in, which makes me believe he is in need of psychiatric attention, up to and including lobotomy. Hmmm.

Truly Good Television...Not on Television
My wife and I have been watching DVDs of an old television show, Homicide: Life on the Street. I think I've mentioned it here before, but it bears repeating. It's an outstanding program. It's one of the few police dramas in which I had any interest. It's so utterly different from the B.S. shows that paint a heroic and glamorous picture of police work. It may not be real, but it feels real. Watch it. At least a few episodes.

Food-Induced Waddle

We just got back from our office holiday party, hosted at the home of one of my staffers. It was a nice affair, replete with enormous amounts of wonderful food (including several salads, dips, etc. made by my wife and a nice bunch of stuffed jalapenos made by me) and nice, inexpensive wine. I ate more than I wanted or needed, but that's the price I pay for insisting that I sample everything everyone brought and ladle out the appropriate compliments.

I think I'll stay up for awhile, trying to digest some of what I've eaten, then waddle off to bed.

You Know What I Think?

I spoke to a Washington, DC lawyer today, a guy who's a disenchanted Republican but a Republican nonetheless. He views George Bush as the incarnation of Satan, as he should, but he still sees some Republicans as more aligned to his way of thinking than any Democrat could ever be.

And maybe he's right. I'm in favor of fiscal convervatism, too, up to a point. I loathe pork barrel spending and earmarks and corporate welfare. I hate to see waste in government. I despise seeing incompetent, uncaring, idiotic civil servants flaunting their ineptitude like a badge of honor. I'm appalled and disgusted by massive spending on programs that ostensibly make our country more secure but, in fact, make our country more oppressive and fanatic and abrasive on the world stage.

But I hate to see people who desperately need and DESERVE a safety net provided by government ignored or worse. And I hate seeing otherwise intelligent people hijacked by lunatic pastors who manage to lure them into delusions of religious righteousness.

Back to my lawyer. He was expressing his distaste for Obama. He said Obama does not understand what he is doing when he tries to do things like radically modify federal Independent Contractor (I.C.) statutes. I agree. Obama doesn't understand. He is naive. Sure, there are hundreds or even thousands of companies that abuse I.C. laws. But most companies and individuals that deal in I.C. relationships do so because there are very good reasons to do so...not because of tax issues, but because of pragmatic matters like an I.C. working for 200-300 companies during the course of a year...it's nuts to consider that the individual would want to be on the payroll of every company for a day or two during the year. The paperwork burden would be absurd.

It's not just I.C., though. It's government in general. It's horrendous. Some days, I'm almost ready to turn to Ron Paul and say, "I'm yours." But I cannot because his ideas are so contrary to mine...we DO need government, but ONLY if it is FOR THE PEOPLE, BY THE PEOPLE. THAT's where things have gone horribly wrong. We have abdicated our responsibility, collectively, to vote for and elect people who truly represent our interests and the interests of the country at large. Instead, we elect grunting pigs who erupt into orgasmic delight when faced with the prospect of the stench of rotting ethical compromises.

I'd love to see a dark-horse emerge from the fog and offer us the following:
1) A commitment to justice for everyone, worldwide, and a love of truth;
2) An honesty so breathtaking that we will gladly follow his/her admonition that we all must compromise and suffer for the greater good;
3) A willingness to confront and correct our own naive and unrealistic demands that government can and will solve all of our problems;
4) An insistence that we answer, in a resounding way, the question: are we a nation that accepts lies spoon-fed to us in order to justify an atrocity as horrible as attacking a nation that has not attacked us?

There are more attributes that this dark horse would bring to the table. But, I'm afraid, the dark horse died on the track. Our best hope is that one of a handful of crooks and criminals of a lessor degree will be elected, instead of their god-fearing opponents.

Is my bitterness and skepticism and rage showing? Does anybody fucking care?! You know what I think?

Putting a Refuge on a List

We're set for Christmas Eve, assuming we're in Dallas on the 24th. I bought three dozen jalapeño and pork tamales from a reliable source today, so all I have to do before the 24th is get the ingredients for chile con queso and buy some good Mexican beer and life will be good. I will be in a position to celebratge Christmas Eve in the tradition of my family. Of course, we're not sure we will be in Dallas on Christmas Eve. We might be deep in southeast Texas by then. If so, I'll probably take an emergency ration of tamales and chile con queso. I can skip the beer.

But, odds are that we will be here on the 24th and that we will head out the next day, stopping in Houston to enjoy my sister's cooking as she feeds a large group of folks who don't have family to spend Christmas with and/or lack the means to be with family or who cannot afford a meal. She had a very small "windfall" recently, thanks to her efforts to protect an acquaintance from some thieves. As is typical of her, she's spending most of the little windfall not on herself but on other people who who need either friendship or a helping hand or a little of both. She is the sort of person you read about in the paper this time of year: someone who, despite being unable to work and living on an incredibly meager income, often spends what money she has on people less fortunate than she is. If I had just half her goodness and had the heart to do a fraction of what she does for others, I would be a very, very good human being. I suppose that's why so many of us, family and friends and strangers whose lives she has touched, love her.

Christmas, for me, is a convenient time to think about what sort of people we all should try to be, not because some magical being threatens us with damnation if we don't, but because it's simply right. I suppose we wouldn't have this convenient time if it weren't for religion, so I'll throw a bone to any religious readers of this post by saying religion has had a few positive influences on our lives. But, of course, I loathe the crass commercialism that has come to envelope it.

Anyway, it's nearing Christmas and the one time each year that we can close the office, in total, for an entire week. I am looking forward to that. And I'm looking forward to getting out to some coastal refuges and to seeing all manner of birds and other interesting creatures. Aransas National Wildlife Refuge is on our list!

Leonard Cohen Music

Here are several YouTube music videos featuring Leonard Cohen. The gravel in his voice is part of the attraction, but mostly it is the exquisite melding of music and poetry. When I listen to his music, my mind goes wandering in places I did not know existed.

Take This Waltz



Closing Time



Dance Me to the End of Love



Suzanne (a very old piece)




Who By Fire



The Future (Live)



If It Be Your Will



First We Take Manhattan (with Jennifer Warnes)



Famous Blue Raincoat



Light as the Breeze



You Know Who I Am



A Thousand Kisses Deep

A Non-Christian Epiphany

I read a post, last night, on a blog I read frequently. For some reason that I cannot explain, it struck me that the writer's experiences are viewed by people from all over...people who do not know her except for what she writes. That fascinated me. I imagined people reading the very brief recount of her experience in an Asian market; would other readers see that market the way I did, in my mind's eye?

Then I began to wonder how people experience the ideas and experiences and diatribes and howls of anger I post here on my blog. Occasionally, someone posts a comment, but I know there are people who visit periodically and leave as quietly as they arrived. I wonder if they perceive me, the writer, as an utter buffoon, whose rants give them the opportunity to feel better about themselves. I wonder if they are curious to know what kind of mind can enable me to laugh cruelly at the misfortunes of people I label idiot conservatives, yet be filled with empathy for a family a half a world away, whose home was washed away in a flood.

And then it strikes me. How would I judge a person who writes, like I often do, as if his point of view is the only 'right' one? I would label him arrogant, close-minded, and ignorant.

When I read right-wing bloggers (or newspaper reporters or editors) who call for the abandonment of any vestige of secularism in government, I want to shake the idiocy from the minds that spew such horseshit. But there is an equally absurd set of people (much closer to my way of thinking than I'm comfortable admitting) who would remove any trace of religion or spirituality from any forum at any time. When I'm in a more rational state of mind than is normal for me, I realize that there is room for compromise.

Sure, I'd rather everyone, worldwide, would abandon what I consider to be the fantasy of religion. But, realistically, that's not going to happen. It's no more likely to happen than it is that I will be able to convince the world that I perceive the color 'blue' in the only correct way. Similarly, people who hold deep religious beliefs are deluding themselves if they expect they will convince me to embrace a belief in a supreme being.

I find it interesting when I read some of my fellow atheists who call for religious zealots to acknowledge that atheists may be right that there is no god. Yet these same people, me included, are offended when religious people ask us to acknowledge that there may be a god. Both camps are so utterly, completely certain in their beliefs (or lack thereof), that they become intractable. How does one overcome such absolutism? The only way I know is to embrace tolerance. To me, tolerance is an attribute to wish for.

Tolerance is an interesting concept. To be racially tolerant is, in some quarters, viewed with disgust (if you "tolerate" the races, do you feel superior?). To be tolerant in the religious arena, though, is viewed (again, in some quarters) as a admirable characteristic. I suppose tolerance, in the religious sphere, is counterpoint to fanaticism.

Back to the original "aha!" moment. I'm going to try to find middle ground where I can. I think it's unhealthy to be as vehement as I tend to be about all manner of issues. One reason I want to reach toward the middle is that I want to be able to engage people in conversations and, perhaps, work to change their minds. I know I tend to simply shut down when confronted with a rabid right-winger and I suspect they tend to shut down when confronted by me in my left-wing glory. If I can at least engage them in conversations, maybe I'll be able to change their minds.

Finally, my absolute certainty about some things has left little room for me to learn about some things. Even if I don't believe what I hear, I think I can learn by at least listening to other points of view.

There are plenty of things I simply won't buy. But I'm going to try to understand others' perspectives when they don't agree with mine. And then I'm going to deliberately try to bring them over to my way of thinking, just as they will try to do the same. But I'll win. I just know it.

Ophthalmologist Visit and Good Times

My wife experienced severe itching and tearing in her left eye today. I scooted down to Walgreen's to buy some Visene for her, but that didn't work. Her eye got progressively worse. Her eye appeared to have a faucet attached....water poured from it. Finally, we got a fit-in appointment to see our ophthalmologist, with a 3:00 pm appointment time. We were warned that we'd have to be fit in whenever he had a chance. She was his last patient at 4:30 pm.

As it turns out, she had a new rogue eyelash growing in wrong on her lower eyelid. Its location and orientation had done considerable damage in terms of scratching her cornea. But, the good news is that she should be just fine in a few days, provided she puts in all the drops she's supposed to...I'll see to that.

All of this hubbub caused me to miss the birthday celebration at my office for one of my staff. Fortunately, we'd bought the cake last night and got the staffer a card, so the remaining people pulled it off without us. I'm terrible at getting cards, remembering birthdays, etc. My wife is wonderful at that. Good mix.

I'm worn out just thinking about what I have to get accomplished next week before the holidays. We'll close the office for the entire following week and the first two days of the succeeding week. Hot damn, I'm going to have some time away!

I hope you enjoyed (or will enjoy) my two Leonard Cohen YouTube videos from yesterday. I'm going to load more.

Sisters of Mercy

Another Leonard Cohen song, one of my many favorites.

Everybody Knows!

If I'd seen this when it was first out, I would have managed, somehow, to get it shown on the evening news.

It's Beginning to Smell a Lot Like Christmas

I was right. Gloomy, cold, miserable, rainy...not a great day for a drive. But, it's over now, so off to fight another battle. I smell logs burning in neighbors' fireplaces. I am enjoying a roaring fireplace, vicariously.

As I emerged from my meeting in Round Rock this morning (I drove down, arriving there just before 9:00 am), I met an ugly, leaking sky. I jumped in my car and started to drive away. A godawful noise and a strange "feel" to the car made me stop just a short distance away, near the edge of the parking lot. I got out to discover a completely flat left rear tire.

In my younger days, I would have simply jumped out and replaced it with the spare, but I decided I did not want to do that today, inasmuch as it was 42 degrees, raining, and I was wearing a jacket and sports coat and had no gloves, etc. to protect my body from the elements and the dirt on the tires. So, I called AAA. "We'll have someone there within 45 minutes," I was told. About 30 minutes later, I got a call on my cell: "We're sorry, we cannot have someone there as soon as we thought. It will be another 2 hours."

Bastards! I decided to change the flat myself. I discovered that it's not easy, trying to change a flat tire while wearing "work" clothes. But, ultimately, I got the thing changed, only to find that the spare was damn near flat, too. I drove around to the front of the hotel to ask where I could find the nearest tire repair spot. The bellman, who was elderly when I graduated from college, offered a general idea of where I might go to look for a tire dealer, so off I went, my nearly-flat spare barely keeping me moving as my flashers warned everyone to steer clear.

Fortuntely, the tire place was very close by. They aired up the spare, repaired the flat, and sent me on my way, only $23 poorer. While waiting for my tire to be repaired, I got a call from the AAA service truck, who was looking for me. Seems that AAA, who I called to cancel the request for assistance after I decided to change the flat myself, failed to tell the repair service. And I pay for this "roadside assistance" service from AAA?

After getting my car ready to head back to Dallas, I hit the road and spent well over four and a half hours driving back...it took me an hour less to drive down. The slower trip back was due to heavy rain, more traffic, darker clouds, bad drivers, and a horrendous slowdown as I approached downtown Dallas at about 4:00 pm. I was in traffic for an hour from that point until I got home.

But now, here I am! Dry, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, sipping a stiff drink, and feeling like retiring. I always seem to feel like retiring...not retiring as in retiring for the night, but retiring as in becoming permanently and pleasantly unemployed.

Oh, well, maybe next year. Tomorrow night we're off to a Christmas party (or, rather, a party using Christmas as an excuse for being given). I have yet to buy any gifts, at all. I may not buy any. Probably won't. My wife suggested we blow off the gift exchange thing this year and, instead, spend money and time having fun during our time-off from December 24 to January 2. OK, I said. OK. I'll buy that.

Answers on the Internet

Tomorrow (Wednesday) promises to be cold and rainy, a gray day that will be the less appealing sibling to today's gray and warm and rainy experience. And, tomorrow morning I have to get up early so I can begin my drive toward Austin by 5:30 am to arrive in time for a 9:00 am meeting. A meeting that will last until noon. And then I will drive back. My inclination is to cancel the Austin trip, but that would entail backing down from a promise that I would make the meeting, which I would find awfully unappealing.

Crap. I hate driving on dark, wet, rainy roads. I loathe windows that fog up and attempt to hide the pedestrians and automobiles in front of me.

Oh, well, it's not going to change, so I'll just buck up and do it. And then I'll pretend that I'm off for the rest of the day. Maybe I'll discover the answers on the Internet. I know I had the answers once, but I misplaced them. Maybe I left them on the Internet.

I heard yesterday about a guy in Australia, a mid-60s businessman and conservationist, who made it his mission recently to unseat John Howard as Prime Minister. Maybe I'll take up his cause late tomorrow afternoon, adapting it to the U.S. marketplace. Getting Bush out of office even a month early would be a wonderful thing.

Jack Frost Roasting Over an Open Fire...

It's December 9. That leaves only a short time until Christmas eve, a time of various Christian traditions. My family's tradition, which I still try to follow despite being utterly and completely devoid of Christian beliefs, is to have pork & jalapeño tamales and chile con queso on Christmas eve. An accompaniment of good cold Mexican beer is not required, but highly recommended.

I know of a place I can buy the requisite tamales, though tamales are better if purchased from a wizened old Mexican lady who has been making them for sixty years and has perfected the recipe beyond anything a mass-market producer can ever accomplish. I'll have to be satisfied with the mass-produced variety this year.

Speaking of tradition, several years ago my wife got a Christmas card from a co-worker. If memory serves me well, the front of the card had a cartoon figure of a guy tied up above a roaring fire. He had a look of alarm on his face. Musical notes were printed all over the cover, along with the words, "Jack Frost roasting over an open fire..." Inside, more musical notes and the words, "Chestnuts nipping at your nose..." I don't recall the image inside, but assume it was another cartoon image of someone whose nose was being nipped at by...chestnuts. I'd like to find that card and use it every year as my signature greetings of the season. I just liked it.

Leaves

I'm back in town after a disappointing experience attending a workshop dealing with crisis response preparedness. The facilitator did not facilitate. Instead, he acted as if he were a presenter. Consequently, the way in which I envisioned the issue being addressed was not to be.

I did learn something. Mostly, I learned that, in a crisis (a business-related crisis), I'd be poorly prepared. I did not have appropriate answers for questions like "exactly what is the procedure for using backup tapes to resurrect server files?" and "do you have telephone numbers for your attorney, CPA, technology support team, etc. so that you could reach them on a weekend in an emergency?" Lots and lots more. It was a wakeup call, but a poor excuse for a facilitated workshop.

After attending the session, I should have decided to spend my weekend creating an emergency response checklist, complete with all appropriate phone numbers, instructions on how to use alternative (to my corporate computers) means to send emergency notices to my clients, my bankers, etc. I have not and will not. Instead, I am taking the weekend off and away from the office to the extent I can.

Something there is that doesn't love a fallen leaf,
That wants it bagged.

This morning I took time off to learn that my failure to do any yard work during the past many, many months has left me a physical wreck. The leaves in my front yard could easily have been concealing several dead bodies, so I decided I must rake the leaves before the forecast cold, wet, miserable front comes thundering through. Raking leaves...even using a leafblower...is hard work. My neck aches, my arms are sore and tired, and my legs are tight and sore from flexing as I bent down to fill up bags with leaves. I need to fire the guy who's been doing my yard; I blame him for my physical condition.

The electric leafblower was not up to the job, so I finally resorted to a rake. Just as I'd finished getting the leaves into two big piles (one entirely from the huge oak tree in my neighbor's yard, next door), my neighbor drove up. He suggested I was stupid for raking the leaves, because there are still more in the trees and they'll come down after the cold front arrives...anyway, doesn't my yard guy take care of that?

As I withdrew the sharp steel blade from his chest, blood sprayed from the wound. He wheezed and apologized for voting for Bush... OK, that didn't happen...neither the blade nor the Bush apology. I just felt like impaling him on a sharpened rake handle or plunging a machete deep into his chest. But I was polite and refrained from reacting badly.

At any rate, I need to get more exercise! Just doing the yard will be an improvement over what I've been doing.

I'm glad I got the leaves raked before the blast of cold air and rain comes through. The yard would have been a horrendous mess. It may be, still, but it can't be as bad as it could have been.

Psychotic-in-Chief

I love the idiot-in-chief's reaction to the Intelligence Estimate report that Iran abandoned efforts to build a nuclear bomb in 2003. From his perspective, that's just more evidence the Iranians are a danger to us because they could always start a new program...reason enough, in his tiny demented little mind, to take preemptive action.

Right. And people who have sworn off alcohol are just a hair's breadth away from relapse and killing someone while driving under the influence. That's reason enough to put the psychotic bastard in prison, don't you think?

A Cross Between Our Parents....and Hippies in a Tent

My parents died about a year apart. My father died first, in 1985, and my mother died in 1986. That's a long time ago. I was young when they died; 32 when my mother died and 33 a year later. I wasn't ready for something so traumatic.

I've been thinking about their deaths ever since stumbling across the Loudon Wainwright III YouTube video, "Homeless," over the weekend. I relate to the lyrics of the song because I was utterly unprepared for adulthood without a parent to depend on. I was taken by surprise and thrust into the world, walking without a net. I'd been married a few years, but I hadn't matured. I wasn't really an adult. I may not be, still.

Hmm. Time to get to sleep and shake this off. There's work to do tomorrow and people depending on me to get it done. I don't want to be the parent.

I think of my wife and me as the living examples, in some ways, of Greg Brown's whose line I always remember: "a cross between our parente, and hippies in a tent." I'm more like the hippies in the tent. I didn't mature into the parents.

Around the World

Venezuela
Although I'm a socialist deep in my heart, I was pleased to learn that Venezuela voted against Hugo Chavez' proposed constitutional amendments. I was impressed, though, that he did not try to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat by manipulating the results. My concern is that he is an extremely bright and manipulative guy who will use his gesture of goodwill toward democratic decisions by the populace as a tool in his personal campaign to become a dictator. He's definitely someone to watch. Not, though, in the sense that Bush will watch him...looking for the first opportunity to justify an invasion. No, he should be watched because he is, like our own president, a fucking nutcase who doesn't give a damn about what's good for "the people." He's in it for Number One. That notwithstanding, lots of Venezuelans are better off with him in power...unfortunately, they're being given money instead of being taught the means to make their own.

Why is it, I wonder, that people who espouse an affinity for socialism tend, when the opportunity presents itself, to instead grab and consolidate power? Maybe socialism really isn't a workable social and political and economic structure.

Seattle
I'm concerned about a blogger I read regularly who hasn't posted since November 16. I'm concerned his wife may have taken offense at an offhand remark he made about her age. And now, she may have a secret. She's not telling where she hid the body...at least not yet. But she's left a clue or two about what happened. In hindsight, her comments on "murdered sleep" may have been foreboding... Actually, I think he's inundated with "stuff" and cannot or does not have the energy to post...this comment is intended to let him know it's noticed, in case he or his beloved spouse stop by.

Kuala Lumpur
A component group of one of my clients has decided to meet in Kuala Lumpur next year. If the client's finances take a dramatic turn for the better, that's a meeting I might be able to (and want to) attend. I was hoping they'd choose Ho Chi Minh City, but that was not to be. Even if money turns around, there's no assurance I'll go. But I'd like to.

This Week in My Life

This week in my life I can look forward to the following:

1. Driving to The Woodlands (north of Houston) for a seminar about dealing with crises;
2. Stopping in Falba on the way so I can stay overnight with my brother and save $279 on a hotel room...but I'll have to get up to leave at about 5:30 am....woof!;
3. Arranging a board of directors conference call for a client...to deal with some ugly crap that I loathe;
4. Eating a homemade lunch of tomatoes and tuna or chicken or whatever at least 3 days during the week;
5. Reacting in horror at almost anything Bush says or does;
6. Practicing my PhotoShop skills as I prepare graphics, etc. for the relaunch of my corporate website early in January;
7. Learning more about YouTube.com and how to upload videos;
8. Writing and distributing an incredibly interesting and information-laden newsletter for a client association;
9. Advising a client on dealing with a rather uncomfortable media issue;
10. Receiving a written quote on adding many new capabilities to my website.

I expect more, but I refuse to start the week with a list having more than ten items on it.

Loudon Wainwright III - Presidents' Day

This is from a Dutch program made in 2004. It's still current. And such a wish!

Loudon Wainwright III - Homeless

A little Loudon Wainwright III.

Snap my Fingers

I read on the news this morning that a 78 year-old man in Rome learned yesterday that his wife was in the final stages of Alzheimer's disease. He left the hospital where his unconcscious wife lay in bed, went home, and returned with a pistol. He covered her face and chest with towels and shot her three times, then waited for the police to come. It was reported that he did not want to see her suffer any longer from the disease.

It's impossible to tell from the article whether his motive was as reported, but I suspect it was. It must have been overwhelming to the old guy to know that his wife was experiencing pain and degeneration and would continue to wither and die.

Pain should be reserved for the young. Old people should be able to live out their days without having pain as a companion. Would that I could just snap my fingers...

Drist and Mizzle, Interspersed with Nattering Nabobs of Negativism

During a meeting today, I looked outside the window at the gray day beyond the glass and commented that "It looks like we're in for nothing but drist and mizzle today."

The people around me, my clients, didn't recognize that my comment was intentional. I'm confident they think I am just experiencing early signs of dementia and am full of 'nattering nabobs of negativism' to boot.

It's 6:30 on Saturday morning. Normally, I'd be drinking a wonderful cup of coffee and mapping out a strategy to enjoy my day. But today I have an 8:00 am to 4:00 pm meeting with with a client....a new board orientation event, so, I'm not going to waste my time making coffee. It would have the effect of making my brain associate good coffee with a dull, long, drawn-out day. I like my coffee too much to allow that to happen.

It's not particularly onerous, this meeting, but it's SATURDAY and I'd rather not, thank you. So, I'm not feeling particularly charitable toward clients at the moment.

I need to be out looking for a new ceiling fan to replace the one that the maid service broke. We hired them to do a one-time super-cleaning of the house...and they broke two blades off a ceiling fan in the process. I'd buy replacement blades if I could find them, but since the fan is from the mid 1970s, I suspect the search would turn into a wild goose chase.

OK, time to shower, shave, and trudge off into the damp morning air. Dammit.