New blogger friends' experiences have gotten me to thinking...could I get my hands on a VW Westfalia and hit the road? Of course I could! Will I? Not bloody likely. Not yet, anyway. Gotta keep that health insurance for the heart bypass and cancer coverage, don't you know. But the time may not be too far off.
While taking a break today, I started looking at what it might cost to buy a "Westy" with pop-up top, stove, etc., etc. Used, of course. Well, they are highly sought after, I have learned, and therein lies the dilemma. Should I get the real thing, which would require me to crack open the safe of a large bank in a small town? Wouldn't a Subaru Forrester do the trick? Or a Honda Element? They're afforable, at least to some people. Sure, they would do! But not a Hummer. Isabelita would beat me to death with heavy carabiners and chocks, as well she should.
Anyway, I'm not going to buy any of those vehicles just yet. But I promise that after I finish my welding class this summer, I'll give more than passing thought to following brother Timothy Leary's admonitions...a little.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Monday, May 5, 2008
Only Monday
I experienced Monday today. During that experience, I realized again how much I want to spend time on various projects, such as:
There are more projects. But this is only Monday.
- building (but mostly living in) a place on our land in Falba;
- writing about memories and dreams that I dredge up out of my subconscious from time to time;
- writing the ultimate guide to taquerias in Texas;
- expunging the ugliness of certain association management experiences from my memory;
- learning whether my desire to create art is based purely on wishes or maybe, just maybe, on salvageable creativity and a little spark of skill;
- pretending to be William Least Heat Moon for just awhile, while I can still almost afford the gas;
- transforming my oft-spoken desire to "do good" into measurable action in ways that will please me and those I try to help (I'm not able to care for everyone...I have targets of my desire to do good); and
- proving how dangerous organized religion is, but how many of the tenets of religion are simply goodness and humanism cast in the opiate of the masses (which can be a good thing).
There are more projects. But this is only Monday.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Happily Deranged
I'm $1.98 poorer in cash, but much richer in music, now that I've downloaded two versions of Plastic Jesus, one by Ernie Marrs and the Marrs Family and the other by the Young Norwegians. Neither of them incorporate all the lyrics I've come across, but between the two of them is a nice mix. A couple of verses I especially like include this one, which finds its way onto the iTunes songs I bought:
When pedestrians try to cross
I let them know who's boss
I never blow my horn or give them warning
I ride all over town
Trying to run them down
And it's seldom that they live to see the morning
and this one, which never seems to make it to the recordings:
When I'm goin' fornicatin'
I got my ceramic Satan
Sinnin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
The women know I'm on the level
Thanks to the wild-eyed stoneware devil
Ridin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Sneerin' from the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Leering from the dashboard of my van
I know, I'm deranged, but that's just the way I am.
I've accomplished quite alot this morning (and it's not even 11 o'clock), aside from buying music online. I've washed and dried a load of cloths; washed the dishes; showered, brushed my teeth and shaved; and learned all manner of good and bad news from around the world, thanks to my lifeline to the real world, the Internet.
Oh, not to forget the article I read (using an actual paper magazine) in Texas Observer about the demise and rebirth (at least temporarily) of Pig Stand #29 in San Antonio, Texas. You can ready the article online, too, by clicking here. But I would encourage you to subscribe, instead of just reading it online. If you're interested in a liberal view of Texas or simply want to see Texas become more liberal, it's money well spent.
It's only $32 for a year.
My wife and I are getting excited about our upcoming trip to Chicago. We'll leave Thursday morning and return late the following Tuesday afternoon. Five days wandering around our old stomping grounds of Chicago and environs. One of the first things we're going to do, though we've done it before, is to take a Chicago Architecture Foundation tour of downtown Chicago on a boat on the Chicago River. It's an incredibly interesting tour and allows glimpses of some truly remarkable architecture. We plan on having an old style Chicago hot dog at The Doggery, a tiny hot dog stand adjacent to one of the apartment buildings we lived in while we lived in downtown Chicago.
We're getting together with friends for dinner on Thursday night (don't know where) and then will spend a day or two with my wife's sister and her sister's boyfriend [both now from Boston](who will then zip off to Aurora to see the boyfriend's mother), and otherwise we'll just act like tourists.
Food is one of the things we're looking forward to in Chicago (it's not like we don't get any here, but...we like food). We'll go to a tapas place we used to frequent (still there after 18 years!) and will jump off the buses whenever we see a place we want to explore. We'll get transit system passes so we can use the trains and buses at will, without having to worry about change, money, etc. with each ride. That's one of the things I miss sooooo much about Chicago; the city has a wonderful public transportation system, something Dallas will never duplicate, no matter how hard it tries.
It's now AFTER 11 o'clock, so I better get in gear and finish washing clothes, do other odds & ends, and get set to blow this popstand!
When pedestrians try to cross
I let them know who's boss
I never blow my horn or give them warning
I ride all over town
Trying to run them down
And it's seldom that they live to see the morning
and this one, which never seems to make it to the recordings:
When I'm goin' fornicatin'
I got my ceramic Satan
Sinnin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
The women know I'm on the level
Thanks to the wild-eyed stoneware devil
Ridin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Sneerin' from the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Leering from the dashboard of my van
I know, I'm deranged, but that's just the way I am.
I've accomplished quite alot this morning (and it's not even 11 o'clock), aside from buying music online. I've washed and dried a load of cloths; washed the dishes; showered, brushed my teeth and shaved; and learned all manner of good and bad news from around the world, thanks to my lifeline to the real world, the Internet.
Oh, not to forget the article I read (using an actual paper magazine) in Texas Observer about the demise and rebirth (at least temporarily) of Pig Stand #29 in San Antonio, Texas. You can ready the article online, too, by clicking here. But I would encourage you to subscribe, instead of just reading it online. If you're interested in a liberal view of Texas or simply want to see Texas become more liberal, it's money well spent.
It's only $32 for a year.
My wife and I are getting excited about our upcoming trip to Chicago. We'll leave Thursday morning and return late the following Tuesday afternoon. Five days wandering around our old stomping grounds of Chicago and environs. One of the first things we're going to do, though we've done it before, is to take a Chicago Architecture Foundation tour of downtown Chicago on a boat on the Chicago River. It's an incredibly interesting tour and allows glimpses of some truly remarkable architecture. We plan on having an old style Chicago hot dog at The Doggery, a tiny hot dog stand adjacent to one of the apartment buildings we lived in while we lived in downtown Chicago.
We're getting together with friends for dinner on Thursday night (don't know where) and then will spend a day or two with my wife's sister and her sister's boyfriend [both now from Boston](who will then zip off to Aurora to see the boyfriend's mother), and otherwise we'll just act like tourists.
Food is one of the things we're looking forward to in Chicago (it's not like we don't get any here, but...we like food). We'll go to a tapas place we used to frequent (still there after 18 years!) and will jump off the buses whenever we see a place we want to explore. We'll get transit system passes so we can use the trains and buses at will, without having to worry about change, money, etc. with each ride. That's one of the things I miss sooooo much about Chicago; the city has a wonderful public transportation system, something Dallas will never duplicate, no matter how hard it tries.
It's now AFTER 11 o'clock, so I better get in gear and finish washing clothes, do other odds & ends, and get set to blow this popstand!
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Cottonwood
Today, after putting in our obligatory time in at the office, my favorite wife and I went to the Cottonwood Art Festival.
Aside from seeing some incredible art (and some miserable swill attempting to show skill and creativity but failing in both attempts), we heard music. Fishing for Comets was playing while we were near the stage. I liked them.
We bought a piece of yard art, a glass and metal dragonfly on a metal rod. We like dragonflies for some reason...I think it's because they are such beautiful creatures and so intriguing to watch as they skim the surface of ponds, dipping in ocassionally to drink or torip screaming tiny creatures from the surface of the water for a snack. Anyway, our little piece of yard art is now just outside the living room window, being company to another piece of dragonfly yard art we bought a year or so ago. One day I'll post a picture.
Aside from seeing some incredible art (and some miserable swill attempting to show skill and creativity but failing in both attempts), we heard music. Fishing for Comets was playing while we were near the stage. I liked them.
We bought a piece of yard art, a glass and metal dragonfly on a metal rod. We like dragonflies for some reason...I think it's because they are such beautiful creatures and so intriguing to watch as they skim the surface of ponds, dipping in ocassionally to drink or torip screaming tiny creatures from the surface of the water for a snack. Anyway, our little piece of yard art is now just outside the living room window, being company to another piece of dragonfly yard art we bought a year or so ago. One day I'll post a picture.
Cells from Hell
I have to go to my office today, but I'm not complaining. I have to go there to finish up a proposal for a prospective client. Since returning from my last client event, I've been too involved in things like getting my misplaced or stolen cell phone replaced to have bothered with prospective clients. But I promised that I would send the prospect my already-late proposal so he will have it no later than Saturday afternoon. That's today.
Cell phones are the work of the devil. But that work is not yet done. I'm convinced that the evolution of the devices (how'd you like that for weaving in a little anti-religious banter into a "religious" diatribe?) soon will allow cell-phone addicts to drive while simultaneously watching videos, playing video games, talking on three-way calls with their spouses, lovers, and athletic trainers, and making stock market trades. Freeway pileups of mammoth proportions will result, with hundreds if not thousands of deaths and maimings in a single such event.
Fortunately, traffic alerts will be beamed to all other cell-phonelosers users, allowing them to avoid current "working" tragedies so they can create their own.
I regularly berate people who use cell phones while driving. I can always tell the cars that are being driven by cell-phone addicts; they drift from lane to lane and, more typically than not, are being driven 10 miles per hour below the speed limit. Presumably, these drivers have decided a head-on crash at 50 miles per hour is much less annoying than one at 60 miles per hour.
But I digress. Back to my cell phone. I was in Houston. I last remember (and have a record of) using it at about 4:30 pm. And the next thing I knew, it was gone. The little belt holster where I keep it was empty. My staff and I looked for it high and low. Everywhere. We tried calling it, but it was shut off, as it instantly went to voice mail. (I've since confirmed that it was not used at all, at least not with my SIM card, after it disappeared.)
My unhappy experience with my cell phone made me realize, in the core of my being, that cell-phone dependence is an ugly, dirtly, disgusting business. I didn't even use mine that much (for speaking), but the access to email got to me. At least I tried to avoid driving and using my email at the same time, though.
Anyway, my old cell phone is gone. I was expecting to switch providers (which would have been a happy thing...I'm on T-Mobile, whose coverage area is restricted to 8-block areas in large cities, with a smattering of coverage areas in the country near large congregations of jersey cows). But I discovered after calling T-Mobile that I unwittingly had been conned into buying insurance coverage (which had a $110 deductible) for my Blackberry. And, of course, my contract doesn't expire until October.
So, yesterday a box arrived with my replacement phone. After only 2.75 hours, I was part-way back to having a semi-functioning Blackberry, absent all the phone numbers I had stored in my original and absent all the special settings I had painstakingly programmed since October 2006, when I bought the thing.
Maybe I'll figure out how to reprogram the think as I'm driving to the office today. Yeah, that's the ticket!
Cell phones are the work of the devil. But that work is not yet done. I'm convinced that the evolution of the devices (how'd you like that for weaving in a little anti-religious banter into a "religious" diatribe?) soon will allow cell-phone addicts to drive while simultaneously watching videos, playing video games, talking on three-way calls with their spouses, lovers, and athletic trainers, and making stock market trades. Freeway pileups of mammoth proportions will result, with hundreds if not thousands of deaths and maimings in a single such event.
Fortunately, traffic alerts will be beamed to all other cell-phone
I regularly berate people who use cell phones while driving. I can always tell the cars that are being driven by cell-phone addicts; they drift from lane to lane and, more typically than not, are being driven 10 miles per hour below the speed limit. Presumably, these drivers have decided a head-on crash at 50 miles per hour is much less annoying than one at 60 miles per hour.
But I digress. Back to my cell phone. I was in Houston. I last remember (and have a record of) using it at about 4:30 pm. And the next thing I knew, it was gone. The little belt holster where I keep it was empty. My staff and I looked for it high and low. Everywhere. We tried calling it, but it was shut off, as it instantly went to voice mail. (I've since confirmed that it was not used at all, at least not with my SIM card, after it disappeared.)
My unhappy experience with my cell phone made me realize, in the core of my being, that cell-phone dependence is an ugly, dirtly, disgusting business. I didn't even use mine that much (for speaking), but the access to email got to me. At least I tried to avoid driving and using my email at the same time, though.
Anyway, my old cell phone is gone. I was expecting to switch providers (which would have been a happy thing...I'm on T-Mobile, whose coverage area is restricted to 8-block areas in large cities, with a smattering of coverage areas in the country near large congregations of jersey cows). But I discovered after calling T-Mobile that I unwittingly had been conned into buying insurance coverage (which had a $110 deductible) for my Blackberry. And, of course, my contract doesn't expire until October.
So, yesterday a box arrived with my replacement phone. After only 2.75 hours, I was part-way back to having a semi-functioning Blackberry, absent all the phone numbers I had stored in my original and absent all the special settings I had painstakingly programmed since October 2006, when I bought the thing.
Maybe I'll figure out how to reprogram the think as I'm driving to the office today. Yeah, that's the ticket!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
It's Just as Weld...
Finally, after talking about it for I don't know how long, I've signed up for a class to learn welding. I've wanted to know how to weld for years. The first time I can remember trying to find a class was about 1992 or 1993.
Initially, I wanted to learn to weld to give me the wherewithal to at least try to create metal sculpture. Now, it has evolved into a desire to do that, but also to have some practical skills that I may one day put to use if I ever realize my dream of having a little place in the country, where I might need to build gates, fix broken tines for a tiller, or do other such "country" chores.
My class will be held every Sunday afternoon, beginning June 1, from 4-7 p.m. for eleven weeks. I figure I should be able to develop some practical skills after 33 hours of instruction. The course description reads like a novel, it's so exhaustively comprehensive: "This entry-level course focuses on oxy-acetylene and arc welding techniques for the craftsman." I'm glad they gave me the full story about what I'm going to experience in this program.
I really wish I knew someone else who had an interest in learning welding, too, but most people to whom I mention my interest, just in passing, think I've lost my mind. They equate welding with junk yards and they equate my interest in welding as the inevitable ode to my humble ancestry. Hrrummpph!
Initially, I wanted to learn to weld to give me the wherewithal to at least try to create metal sculpture. Now, it has evolved into a desire to do that, but also to have some practical skills that I may one day put to use if I ever realize my dream of having a little place in the country, where I might need to build gates, fix broken tines for a tiller, or do other such "country" chores.
My class will be held every Sunday afternoon, beginning June 1, from 4-7 p.m. for eleven weeks. I figure I should be able to develop some practical skills after 33 hours of instruction. The course description reads like a novel, it's so exhaustively comprehensive: "This entry-level course focuses on oxy-acetylene and arc welding techniques for the craftsman." I'm glad they gave me the full story about what I'm going to experience in this program.
I really wish I knew someone else who had an interest in learning welding, too, but most people to whom I mention my interest, just in passing, think I've lost my mind. They equate welding with junk yards and they equate my interest in welding as the inevitable ode to my humble ancestry. Hrrummpph!
Wind Versus Trees
In that contest, Wind won. We have a very large ash tree in our front yard. Last week's severe windstorm while I was out of town knocked a number of branches down and broke one very large limb that is hanging on but must be cut down. The branches above the break are withering away. The first bid we got was breathtakingly high, but I'm afraid we're not going to find many for less, at least not from people who know what they're doing. So, we'll hire them and have them trim the tree and one large live oak tree on the south side of the house.
Our trees are not nearly as badly damaged as hundreds and hundreds of others we've seen all over the area in the past few days. I hate to see the damage, but what can you do? I'm not strong enough to capture the wind and keep it in check. I used to be, though. Well, maybe I'm lying to you.
Our trees are not nearly as badly damaged as hundreds and hundreds of others we've seen all over the area in the past few days. I hate to see the damage, but what can you do? I'm not strong enough to capture the wind and keep it in check. I used to be, though. Well, maybe I'm lying to you.