Phase 1 - Complete (More or Less)

Well, I managed to get almost complete with everything I had hoped to do before Christmas. The only thing lacking in Phase 1 is the glass shelves and doors in the bar.

Phase 2 will get the floor and walls. Still slightly under $12,000 at this point.

Taking a Peek Out of the Box

Damn...it has been almost a month since I posted anything on this blog. Is my life really that boring and eventless? Not really...I just haven't had much to say.

A quick update.

The kitchen is coming along nicely, but I have been struggling mightily to get some things wrapped up before next Tuesday, when the Warren clan will descend on Maniacal Lane for Christmas. My goal is to have everything complete, except for the floor. Pictures will be forthcoming once that occurs. The walls will have to wait, as the wife has yet to decide what treatment I will be applying.

Bought a new grill today for my Christmas present. Ironically, considering how much shit I gave the wife about her convection oven, I drank the grill Kool-Aid and bought into the Infrared scam. Don't know if it will make any difference in how things cook, but telling people I have an infrared grill just sounds cool. Bought it at Lowe's and was informed they had none in boxes, and I should just roll the display up to the cashier and pay. I felt kind of silly as I went through the line, pushing this humongous grill ahead of me. Then it hit me..."Geez, I am buying a demo. They should discount this thing." Managed to get them to knock 15% off, saving me $75 on a $500 grill. That will make the burgers taste better for a while, at least.

That's it...work, go home and work on the kitchen, sleep, wake up, work, go home and work on the kitchen...well you get the drift. Have a nice Christmas, and stay tuned for finished kitchen photos next week.

What's Old is New

I took the dogs out for their after dinner business tonight. It is a nightly ritual, wherein I watch them to assure they have each done their business, and make sure neither of the young Aussies partake of any poop-sicles that might be strewn about the yard. It also gives me an opportunity to see that Katie makes a good long walk around the back yard to get some exercise on her substandard hips. As I plod along, urging Katie to keep up without letting her break into the hop-skip gait she prefers, I am hit again with the knowing that her days are numbered. It is clear that her ability to get around is diminishing, and her senses are fading little by little. The hearing is very selective, smell and vision are not as sharp as they used to be. But, she seems happy, even if I am not.

Just as I begin to fall into that depressed mood, little Ellen Barkin, the youngest Aussie, comes bounding by with Sara Evans, the next in line...bound together by the rope toy they are fighting over. They gallop around the yard like a team of horses in stride, as they each try to get the toy away from the other. I am reminded to cherish these days with these two dogs, as I know one day, they too will be in their twilight years, and unable to perform this task for my amusement.

Katie will enter the clearing at the end of the path one of these days, and so will all of the others...that is the nature of having dogs. But, just as Ellen is filling the role Katie used to perform, others are sure to take her place as well.

There will always be another dog...but for now, I will enjoy these days with the five crazy canines currently under our care, and constantly remind myself that time, in dog years, flies by.

Marathon Week

Well, the long week has come to an end, and I think I accomplished everything I told the wife I would while she was in Georgia. The cabinet work is complete...now for the details, like doors and trim and hardware and painting. Might start trying to schedule the brother in law for the tile backsplash.

Finished The Beast today.

Vacation???

Last week, the wife and I decided she should go to Georgia on her own, while I took this week of vacation to try and get as much done on the kitchen as possible. There has been a bit of progress, as I have completed the doors for the new cabinets around the stove and microwave and sink. I also managed to replace all of the paneling on one wall with sheet rock, and get the fridge cabinet built.
Tomorrow, I get after the bar area. Haven't decide yet if I will do the sheetrock or the cabinet work first.

A few update photos...

Can't Top That`

Okay...the counter tops are finally in. Guess I can quit bitching about the contractor now. I am not sure if they really look good, or if I am still coming down from the airplane glue high from the adhesive, but I am very happy with the results. Please note the first items placed on the counter are associated with the feeding of the dogs.

Probably will not be anymore photo worthy activities until I finish the cabinet work now.

Why I Hate Contractors - Part 1

I have been busting my ass for over a week to get this damn kitchen ready for new counter tops. As you may recall, I pulled the sink last Sunday in anticipation of an installation sometime this week. Was told Monday, it would happen on Friday.

Missed golf both days last weekend. Blew off my favorite activity of the week on Thursday...missing Thursday Night Talk. Had to leave the solving of the world's problems to rank amateurs. Took Friday afternoon off to put the finishing touches on a few things. Got a call at 2:30 p.m. telling me it would be 2 or 3 more hours before they could get here. They said they could do the install, but it would be 11:00 p.m. or later when they finished.

I said, "Bullshit, you are not installing my $6000 worth of granite in an exhausted stupor." They asked if they could bring the stone over and leave it for the weekend, and come back on Monday. "Sure", said I..."when will you be here...around 7:30...fine."

At 9:00 pm, the stone was finally delivered to my garage, and there it will sit until the contracting gods deem me worthy of an actual install. At least I have the goods in hand. Maybe some of my good friends can come help me lift it into place.

This is the state of the kitchen until further notice.

Rocky Top

Got the sink out today, and hung the new microwave. We are high and dry now til the granite arrives.

A few more before and afters...

Out of The Dust

Long time...no post. Sorry. While nothing photo worthy has occurred, I have been busy on the kitchen job. Got the matching stainless microwave ($400), the matching stainless kitchen sink ($210) and bar sink ($190). Total, so far...$9,400...so much for staying under $10K. The good news is, the floor is the last big ticket item left. I have bumped my hopeful maximum to $12K.

I was able to remove the old vent hood, re-wire and re-vent for the new microwave, build the two narrow cabinets beside the new range with salvaged material, and I think I have enough left over lumber from previous projects to build the bar extension.

The counter tops are being manufactured as we speak, and may be ready to install next week. Thus, I get to spend this weekend removing the old sink, finishing some cabinet work, and taking off the old counter tops. With my usual luck, I will get all of this done, and the granite folks will call and inform me that due to overwhelming demand in China, it will be three months before they can complete the job. Good thing the wife bought a large supply of paper plates and plastic cups (screw the environment), as we will have no functioning sink until the granite is installed.

Well, that's about it...photos as they seem warranted.

Let the Re-building Begin

Finished with the major demolition today. Got the fridge moved to its new home. Now, for the fun part. Start re-building cabinets, and get the counter tops ordered. Don't let the photos fool you...what looks like the wife mopping, is actually her showing me how to do it properly.

Round Two...To the Wife

I am beginning to believe kitchens are like women's clothing. They get away with murder on what they charge, because women like this stuff. I found a perfectly good stainlees steel range for $450, but the wife had her eye on one for $2000. So, we "settled" at $1400. Most men would "settle" for a hot plate, and a countertop microwave.

Anyway...I am enjoying the demo more than I think I will enjoy the put back. Today, I tore out the old cooktop and cabinets to make room for the new range. Had to re-wire and install a 220V plug for the new stove which will be here Tuesday. Managed to do it without standing my hair straight up, or burning down the house. On a positive note, I am finally getting around to labeling the circuit box. I ended up turning off every item in the house in an effort to find the breaker for the old cooktop.

Some more befores and afters...

Change Order No. 1

This is why I don't hire a contractor to do this kind of work. Got the new fridge delivered yesterday, and had it placed where we thought we wanted it. Well, shit. This massive beast juts out into the kitchen so far, it looks like a wart on the rest of the kitchen. So, we figure I will be removing some additional cabinetry and placing the fridge in a different location.

I am attempting to post a few pics, showing the kitchen in its before state, and its current state, and the giant fridge.

The Battle is Joined

On September 11, 2008, I finally conceded, after seven years, one month and ten days, to move forward on the wife's much longed for kitchen renovation. She has been wanting to do this since we moved in, and I thought I had convinced her that puke yellow rubber counter tops and non-functioning kitchen sinks in the middle of the kitchen were making a comeback. But, alack and alas, she responded to my news of NOT getting the job in Amarillo, with the ominous phrase, "Sorry. Now here is what we are going to do to this house."

It began in glorious fashion last Thursday, as we spent a fun-filled afternoon, refrigerator shopping in the heaviest rainfall in the history of Lubbock. Battle One was fought to a draw, as we settled on a fridge that "split" the difference between my desired $600 model and her $2500 model. We settled at $1800.

Of course, stainless steel and granite are all we are considering, even though I showed her a nice piece of Formica that, to me anyway, had the exact same qualities of the granite. And how can I say no to a $1300 range with five burners (exactly 3 more than we use today) and a convection oven which will heat our nachos in half the time it usually takes? I have given up convincing her that yellow molded rubber and avocado were the granite and stainless of the 50's, and some day somebody will be wondering what the fuck we were thinking when we put all this stuff in.

In all seriousness, I repress the urge to push the cheapskate button every day. I want this to be nice, and exactly what she wants. (Don't tell her, but I think I may like the granite counter tops more than she does.) I am excited about the opportunity to build again. I will be doing all of the cabinet work myself.

Demo began Saturday, with the removal of the offending extra kitchen sink and accompanying cabinetry. I also removed the shelving that was blocking the view from the kitchen out the front windows. Of course, before we could begin, we had to pack all of the contents of these cabinets and shelves into boxes for safe keeping. She's such a girl. I was just going to stack everything in a corner in the computer room.

At any rate, it has begun, and I am only out $1800 so far. I have decided to shift my efforts to convincing her exposed walls and plumbing, offset by a shiny new stainless fridge are all the rage on the home improvement shows, and if we stop now, our home value could increase dramatically.

Stay tuned for how that works out.

Off to The Lake

I will be out of touch for a few days as I go off to meet my Aggie Buddies for the 31st Annual Big, Bad, Bodacious Bonfire and Cheap Wine Party at Possum Kingdom.

Although the bonfire has gotten smaller, nicer and more mundane...and the Cheap Wine is a thing of the past, I always look forward to getting together with these guys to catch up and re-live old times.

That lasts about 90 minutes. And then, they have pissed me off about something. I then begin to question why in the hell I look forward to seeing them every year. I think they do it on purpose. They enjoy it so much, I have acquired yet another nickname..."Mr. Grumpy". When they ask me why I am always in such a bitchy mood, I simply reply, "Look at the people I choose to hang out with!"

I will check back in a few days, assuming I have not been arrested for mass homicide.

Kinda Feels Like a Golf Tournament

Well, I found out today I was not the successful candidate for the District Engineer's position in Amarillo. (Yes, Elaine...Amarillo. Other than Lubbock, I can't think of a better place in Texas to call home.)

I will not deny that I am disappointed. Like anyone, I feel like I have been designated as not quite good enough. But, on the other hand, I am also relieved. I was seriously wanting the top job somewhere, but I truly want that job in my home town.

Now, it is a matter of waiting to see what becomes of my boss during the current shakeup in the MixMaster that is TxDOT. If he does not move on, I will make my peace doing the job I have done for the past 15 years. Longer than anyone else in my position at TxDOT by the way. I appear to be like a bad slice in golf. You can bitch all you want, but it just won't go away.

Amarillo by Mornin'

Well shit. Now I have done it. Last month I applied for the District Engineer's position in Amarillo. Got word Thursday, I have an interview next Tuesday for the position. In true TxDOT fashion, I will be interviewing for an Amarillo position, with my Austin based potential boss, in San Antonio. Go figure.

It has been 15 years since I had the one and only interview of my career. Could someone please tell me...are sandals, shorts and Hawaiian shirts still a bad idea in an interview?

Doesn't Make Me a Bad Person...or Does It?

Just got back Wednesday from another long anticipated two week break in Gunnison, CO. Got to figurin', I have been making the journey to central Colorado for 20 years now. The wife and her sister have never really gotten along, so many years ago, we conceded the 4th of July weekend to the sister, in exchange for a couple of weeks in late July and early August. Five years ago, I discovered the Dos Rios Open Golf Tournament around the same time, and we have never regretted the trade off.

This year, as we approached the Gunnison Valley, a call from the mother in law (aka "The Purse) informed us that the wife's sister had decided to leave her 14 year old son in Gunnison with the Grandfolk when they departed around the 4th. This youngster was scheduled to depart the weekend we arrived. As it turned out, he was there the entire time we were, and was still there when we departed.

Now, those that know me, know I don't like to complain...but, godammit, if I had wanted to be around kids, I would have had one of my own. At least I could have put him to work mowing the yard or something. I was looking forward to an escape from the BS of work, a little golf, a cigar or two, and relaxing along the banks of the Gunnison River. What I was not looking for was a new 14 year old best friend. This kid wanted to be with Uncle Bat all the time. "Where are you going?" became the grating question, even if all I was doing was shifting on the couch to scratch my ass.

To be honest, it really did not bother me much, except at night. The tradition in Gunnison has always been at 9:00 p.m., the wife and in-laws go to bed, and I get a couple of exquisite hours of "me time". I watch what I want, I think about the tournament, uninterrupted, I scratch, I fart, I basically don't give a shit about life in general.

Not this year...my new best friend thought it was the coolest thing to stay up late with his uncle. As I searched the TV bands he kept calling for me to stop on programs like "Hurl", a show that combines competitive eating with stomach churning carnival rides until the contestants, you guessed it, "hurl". I kept stopping on Discovery and History in the hopes of putting him to sleep, but to no avail.

Finally, on the 10th night of the "vacation" I thought I caught a break. He left the room at 10:00 p.m., and I thought, "At least I can get in a hour or so of 'me time'". Not to be.

At 10:45, the mother in law and nephew came into the living room to announce the kid's heart rate was bouncing along at a nice 180 beats a minute. "Have him sit down and relax for 15 minutes, to see if it comes down," said I, with genuine concern in my voice. (I really wanted to see the end of the show I was watching.) As I suspected, his heart rate had changed 15 minutes later. Now, it was up to 190 beats a minute.

So, Uncle Bat loaded up the kid and the mother in law, and headed to the emergency room. (Yes, I woke up the wife to let her know what was going on). By he time we got him in, and hooked up to monitors, his rate had surpassed 230 beats a minute. A lot of things happened, blood was drawn, test were run and a lot of nurses and doctors talked. Bottom line, we don't know what caused it, but they suspect caffeine from energy drinks and Frappucino's. They iced him down, and got his rate back under control. They told us to keep him away from caffeine, and if it happened again, to immerse his face in ice water. I asked if throwing his ass in the Gunnison River would accomplish the goal and was told yes. I kept that prescription firmly tucked in my pocket the rest of the trip.

For better or worse, I had my two week brush with fatherhood. Sweet holy Moses, I am glad I met the wife, and we both share a similar disdain for offspring. I will stick with the canine variety. A simple $500 vet bill, and we were on our way back to Lubbock. (For more on the vet bill...stay tuned.)

Colorado

Well, got to Gunnison last Thursday, and this is the first day I have had intercom access. Played 27 holes Saturday, 18 Sunday and 18 Monday. Taking a day off to get caught up on computin' issues. The tournament begins Friday,and I will probably just show all results on this post since I can only seem to access existing posts from the Blackberry. So look here for results.

Must've Been The Clubs

Go figure...went out today and shot 82 with 10 pars. 5 of them coming on the final 5 holes. Couldn't break 95 last weekend when it meant something, and shoot 82 in my first round with the new sticks. Huh?????? Could the wife have been right? I will have to go out tomorrow and prove her wrong.

Club Championship - Day 3

Please refer to the post titled "Club Championship - Day 2".

Having lost on days one and two, I found myself in the lame duck flight. There were 7 flights and each one had two losers who could not win on day 1 or 2. That meant 14 people playing against each other. Lowest score made $50 and second lowest score made $40. Then the lowest two scores adjusted for handicap also made $50 and $40. With a 16 handicap, and a two hour delay due to a massive hail storm that went through the club on Saturday afternoon...I had a decent chance. Mainly because the two hour delay probably meant a lot of the lame duckers would blow off today.

Made par on the first hole, bogey on the second, triple bogey on the third...well, you get the drift. Bottom line...I suck. Shot 94 with only two pars. The good news is, I did not finish dead last. The other loser in our flight shot 105...so he is officially the worst golfer at the club. At one point, he hit his own golf cart with a shot. All we could do at that point was laugh...sure beat crying.

Club Championship - Day 2

Short and sweet post today.

I suck...nuff said.

Club Championship - Day 1

Last August, I decided to begin golf lessons in an attempt to improve my game. Started seeing Leon, and he informed me everything was wrong, and he would have to rebuild me. Yes, the $6 Million Golfer. As a result of trying to perfect a completely new swing, I started turning in horrific scores. But, as of late, I felt it was all coming together.

The result of all of this rebuilding found me in the 7th Flight today at the Club Championship. The famous "DWI Flight", so named because most participants would rather drink heavily than focus on golf. Having just ordered new clubs, and with my game coming around, I saw an opportunity to walk away with my flight, and earn some much needed pro shop credit towards the purchase of these clubs.

Today was a shotgun start, with golfers beginning on every hole on the course, and I found myself on the 15th tee for the start of what I hoped would be a solid romp through the tournament. The 15th is the beginning of what I call "Go to Hell Corner". That part of the course known for destroying good rounds of golf for me.

True to form, I launch my first shot of the tournament into the lake on the left side of the fairway, and my opponent goes on to win the first hole. No problem, I go to 16 and hit a perfect drive and a perfect 2nd shot to the green, with a possible birdie, and a certain par in store. My opponent proceeds to chip in for a birdie 3 from the deep grass on the right side of the green to win the second hole. That was it...I may as well have gone home then, because this guy, whom I know to not be very good, proceeds to shoot 2 over par in 12 holes to beat me in the first round.

The 7th flight is loaded with the worst golfers at the Club, and this guy has an out of body experience, and plays the best golf he has played in years to clean my clock. The minimum number of holes one can play in a match play format is 10, and he beats me in 12.

We were done so early, I had time to sit alone at the club house and drink three beers, and no other groups were coming in. I went home, fed the dogs and returned to the club house before any other matches were wrapping up.

I have grown weary with the "This is the best golf I have ever played" comments coming from my opponents. Once, I would like for those comments to be directed to some other poor sap. All I can play for now is 3rd place...assuming I don't get another "best round of my life" thrown at me tomorrow.

More tomorrow...

Stimulus, Stimuli, Stimulata

I enjoyed another great Fourth Up North celebration on Friday. Good friends, good weather and good fireworks. Although it takes a lot of work, it is worth it, and I always end up having a great time. The wife and I set a benchmark this year, by making it through the entire operation with no arguments or angry words. Friday was followed by two days in the Emerald Cathedral pursuing my passion for breaking graphite shafts. I can't think of a better way to spend a three day weekend.

But wait...what is this in my mailbox today? Why, it is a $1200 Economic Stimulus check from my benevolent nannies in Congress. Why, this weekend just keeps getting better and better. After all, what better way to celebrate the proposition that all men are created equal than to accept some money taken from the wealthy taxpayers in this country and redistributed to those of us less fortunate.

Thank you, wealthy taxpayers. In your honor, I will do my part as a good American and get to some stimulatin'! Hopefully, you will own stock in some of the companies I intend to stimulate. Thus your share value and dividends will increase, causing you to pay more tax next year, resulting in an even larger redistribu...oooops, I mean stimulus, check next year. Oh, I forgot. There is not an election in 2009, so the nannies will not be making any such generous offering.

At any rate, I do intend to pump this money right back into the economy immediately. The wife will be purchasing what must be her 15th digital camera. And I, after a serious upbraiding by Shoeless, shall be custom fit for new golf clubs this week. As I am sure this was all that was wrong with my game, look for me on the Tour next year. Oh crap...that will make me wealthy...there goes my next stimulus check.

Persimmon...The Titanium of The Future

With the Club Championship looming on the horizon (July 11-13th) I have been trying to get out and tune up the golf game whenever I get a chance. Friday, I snuck out of work and played a round with Damian and a buddy of his. Front nine, I was out of my mind and shot six pars and 3 bogeys for a 39. Easily the best nine holes I have played in a long time save for the 38 I shot at Lakeridge a couple of weeks ago. The problem lies in the other 9 holes. Damian popped off and stated I would probably shoot a 49 on the back, and that is exactly what happened.

The problem with shooting 39 on the front is you begin to believe you are a good golfer, and the specter of breaking 80 jumps to the front of your mind. As I have only broken 80 twice in my life...it is hard to resist the urge to look ahead.

All was holding together until the 13th hole, when I found myself in the trees with no escape, and only bad luck following me. I managed to escape with a double bogey and was 7 over par at that point. Meaning, I had five holes to go, and would now have to par all five to break 80. To put it mildly, I was a little upset with myself for putting myself in that situation.

I teed up the ball on 14 and pulled out the new 3-wood I had gotten for Christmas to hit a very easy tee shot onto a fairly simple par 4. I drew back, and completely missed the ball on my swing. This means, that although the ball never moved, I still have to count the stroke. Blood pressure is rising as I take another swing. I almost completely miss the ball again, and bounce it lazily just off the end of the tee box. Golf etiquette dictates that one must throw the club of choice at this point. As I had the new 3-wood in my hands, it became the club of choice. There was a sickening sound of graphite snapping as the head of the club parted ways with the shaft. Isn't that nice...now I will be out $50 or $60 to get the club repaired, in addition to pissing away a good round. The potential sub 80 became an 88 by the time it was all over.

Even worse, now as I prepare for the club championship, I will have to rely on the old, dusty persimmon wooden 3-wood for the duration. On a good note, I went out today with said club, and shot 84. Perhaps persimmon will prove to be the technology of the future after all.

The New American Taliban

Tonight, I can relate to the plight of the Taliban. I too, now hate America. I watched the opening episode of "America's Got Talent" for 15 horrific minutes, and I can understand now why they hate America. Is this truly what the majority of Americans consider entertainment now? I am not talking about you faithful readers. You have proven your superior intellect (at least when compared to the American average) with your various postings and remarks.

Good Lord, save us all! This was the first time in many years I have strayed far enough away from the History Channel and Discovery during prime time to get a taste of what's considered mainstream. That had to be the most painful 15 minutes of TV I have watched in lo these 49 years.

Last nights radio again spoke of the total absence of sunspot activity for the past three months, and I was reminded that according to the Mayan calendar, the world will cease to exist in 2012. The best I can figure is, it takes about four years for the Sun to burn out once it begins to run out of fuel. After tonight's experience, the darkness cannot come to soon for me!

Allah Akbar, brothers and sisters.

D-Day & Private Ryan

Every year, on June 6th, I try to make a point of watching Saving Private Ryan. This film helps me remember the sheer hell a lot of young men went through 64 years ago in an effort to preserve freedom for the rest of the world. The opening 20 minutes of D-Day footage should be required viewing for everyone under the age of 50. It will help you stop bitching about the bullshit going on at work, and the current run up in the price of gas. You don't have to watch the entire film...just the invasion footage. Life is good...and things could be a lot worse.

Thank you for your sacrifices, young men. Rest in peace...

My Dad Away From Dad

Mr. Dick Cheatham passed away Wednesday at the age of 80. I met his son Richard in the first grade at Roscoe Wilson and we grew to be best friends. Richard is the fourth of five children born to Dick and his wife Joyce. They lived on 25th Street, just two doors from Roscoe Wilson, and all through elementary school, I spent as much time at their house as I did at my own. Once we matriculated to Hutchinson Jr. Hi, where I lived two houses away, Richard reciprocated at our house. Mr. Cheatham served in the Army in WWII and Korea and taught at Texas Tech for some time. That is not what I remembered about him.

Dick was an artist. That's all I ever knew to call him. His house was a strange and magical place, filled with artistic objects of all types. Dick worked with watercolor, oil, wood and bronze. He had a kiln in the back yard, guarded by his yellow lab Gunny, and on a lucky day, you would catch him casting sculpture. When he wasn't creating works of art in paint and bronze, he was creating them with feathers and string, as he tied some of the most fantastic fishing flys you had ever seen. I remember him coming to my house once to teach watercolor to a bunch of snot nosed Cub Scouts. He told us..."If you can feel, you can be an artist." Sadly, my sense of feeling must have been buried at birth, as I never developed any artistic abilities of my own. Dick gave me a watercolor for High School graduation and he drew a personal cartoon for my graduation from A&M. Both are proudly displayed in my office. I also have one of his watercolors, a wedding gift, in my living room.


Mr. Cheatham died Wednesday in that same house on 25th Street, after a long battle with Parkinson's. His funeral was yesterday, and was attended by so many people, they had to set up chairs in the entryway. The tables at the reception were adorned with dozens of carved wooden birds. Birds Dick had carved over the years. At one point, Mrs. Cheatham asked for everyone's attention. She announced that we were all welcome to take any of the birds we liked. She then pointed out two huge boxes in the back of the room, filled with even more birds. It was an unbelievable selection.

I selected a couple that struck my eye, made my way to give Mrs. Cheatham a hug and wish her the best. I then turned to find Richard, one of my oldest friends. Now, I am not one who cares much for the "man hug". But, in this case, it seemed appropriate. Afterwards, we stepped back, and he made some comment about my bald head, and I reminded him even without hair, I was still smarter and better looking than him. That seemed to get us back on the right footing.

Farewell, Mr. Cheatham. Scratch old Gunny behind the ears for me.

Storm Chasers...Blow Me!!!

Well, it's tornado season again...otherwise known in West Texas as Spring. Having grown up here, and witnessing 49 tornado seasons, I have to say I am annoyed at the annual influx of legal aliens chasing storms. Returning to the home on Maniacal Lane after having acquired a Blake's Round Hot Dog and tater tots from Christaki's tonight, I was slowed dramatically on the Interstate by an antenna laden vehicle, as they checked their mobile computin' machines and the closed circuit TV cameras searching for the next great storm to strike.

As I passed, I politely informed them it was just another storm cloud, and if they would only wait a few minutes, another one would come along directly. Admittedly, it may have actually come out as, "Get the fuck out of the way, you goddamn yankees, my cholesterol bomb is getting cold!"

Every year about this time, storms come and storms go. The local weathermen interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to tell us storms are coming, and storms are going. Call me jaded if you want, but I really don't give a shit about the comings and goings of storms, unless they have the potential to affect the comings and goings of an 8:30 tee time on Saturday morning.

It's the weather folks...and it has been around for several centuries. In the words of the late, great Clayton Williams, "...there ain't a damn thing you can do about it, might as well lie back and enjoy it."

Earth Week...Enough Already!!!

If I hear one more so called celebrity pontificate about what I should do to save the earth, I might be forced to go out and drain my oil directly into the ground in the alley. I have had my fill of Earth Week.

The wife even indicated she was going to buy some of those annoying canvas bags for groceries. I beseeched her, if she insisted on doing it, to do it for the right reason. That being that we are being buried on Maniacal Lane under those damn plastic bags since the cats died. Try as they may, the dogs just can't produce the level of excrement necessary to keep up with the infusion of Wal-Mart and United bags. Please do not buy them under the misguided notion that it will help the environment.

First, let me go on the record as one who believes Man has little to no influence on the earth's climate. Send all of the knee jerk propaganda you want about greenhouse gasses and the evils of fossil fuels. Man just ain't Man enough to fuck with Mother Nature. The Earth will do what she will do, and there ain't a damn thing Man can do about it. I predict in the 20's, high school students will be holding theme parties parodying the "hippie" like antics of environmental reactionaries of the Naught's. Hell, I saw the same thing in the '70's.

For 40 plus years there have been dire predictions about the "end world" actions taken by Man. The actual score is: Earth - 5 billion years...Modern Man - 10,000 years. By those numbers, the Earth has not even realized we are here. We cannot destroy the planet...we can only destroy ourselves...and eventually, we will. I, for one, am not going to lose any sleep over it.

I read this week where food riots have begun around the world, and there is a perceived rice shortage in the US. RICE shortage???? Who gives a shit? A rice shortage will not lead to riots in this country. Now...a donut shortage will be a different thing.

Come to think of it...a food shortage could be the best thing to happen to this country. We are currently in the middle of an obesity epidemic. Yes, I said "obesity epidemic". We are actually afflicted with too much food in this country. If food shortages eventually lead to rioting, the country can only become healthier. Everyone will be eating less, and exercising more.

Honor Earth Week...plant a tree...you may be forced to eat the damn thing.

Spring Fun Tournament

We teed off at 9:00 a.m. for the annual Spring Fun Tournament. This is a 4 man tournament, that calls on each participant to step up and do his part. As illuminated by Al earlier today, I shan't bore you with the minute details. Today's format was a select drive, low ball. This means all four tee off, you pick the best drive and everyone plays in from there. I performed poorly on the front nine (43) and exceptionally on the back (35). As a team, we played very well and shot 17 under par for a current standing of second place.

Tomorrow's format is two 2-man scrambles. This means you split your team into two man teams and each team plays from the best shot of that two man team each time. You then combine the two scores on each hole for the total team score. I will be teaming up with Bryan, who can hit the ball a mile and a half, but you don't know where it will come down. My primary job tomorrow is to put my drives into the fairway and in play, then let Bryan unleash the beast and knock the crap out of his driver.

As I will be flying to Austin tomorrow evening, I don't know if I will know the results of our performance until I return on Wednesday. Stayed tuned if you give a shit...otherwise, have a nice day.

The Seven Plagues

As you may recall, a couple of weeks ago, I ripped the shit out of my thumb. There was some question about the possibility of tetanus at that time. I now, must Google tetanus for symptoms.

About the time I thought all was coming along nicely with the healing, I came down with some type of respiratory ailment. After coughing up a lung and a half, breathing had become quite labored. This was followed by an affliction of the nether regions which only Preparation H can relieve.

Last weekend, fever and stuffy head symptoms made their arrival, complementing my favorite activity of arising at the crack of dawn to make it to the airport at 6:30 Monday morning for a day trip to Austin and back. For your future use, nothing will assure you three seats to yourself on a Southwest flight quite like drooling down your shirt, and coughing up huge balls of phlegm into your palm, all the while shifting to and fro on your butt cheeks to relieve the painful itching and swelling down south.

After surviving the trip to Austin and back, I was greeted at the door with the news the iPhone had arrived. All I had to do was activiate it for the wife. I had been assured this was an easy and painless task, and would only take a few minutes. The instructions were very simple..."Log onto iTunes, connect the iPhone, and follow the on-screen directions."

I made it to Step 2.2 before the ever expected snag set in. Message..."No SIM card installed." Huh??? I did what any good Luddite would do. I checked the ATT site for details and was told all iPhones were shipped with a SIM card pre-installed. So, I looked the sleek surface of the new fangled device up and down, searching for a place where a SIM card might be. Nothing stood out. I checked the exhausitng volumes of instructions again. In total, they said..."Log onto iTunes, connect the iPhone, and follow the on-screen directions." I broke the bad news to the wife, that we had received the only iPhone in existence shipped without a pre-installed SIM card. Luckily, the following day, I paid a visit to the local ATT store, was issued a SIM card, and told where to put it, and a few clicks later the iPhone was up and running. All seemed well, and the sun would come out, and birds would be singing.

This morning, I woke up with massive cold sores breaking out all around my nose and mouth. For a guy who lives a clean, healthy, optimistic life, I was beginning to think someone up there does not like me. I look forward to the swarm of locusts in the yard tomorrow morning.

I-Phone or Blackberry

As the wife informed me a new washer and dryer is not a suitable gift for her birthday, I am resigned to moving her into the era of the smart phone.

As a Blackberry user for the past couple of years, I must say I have been very happy with it. I have tried to use the I-phone, but the overwhelming technological power of it gives me the creeps. Also, I discovered I cannot type on the damn thing. I tried the old line "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog", but never got past "The qu..." The keys were so sensitive, I kept picking up letters without trying. Then, somehow I e-mailed the test message to myself. Smart phone, my ass.

Not to mention, the Blackberry will not set me back $400-$500 to start. I must admit, that appeals to my "frugal" side.

Any opinions out there?

Bang the Thumb Slowly...

Most weekends, after a round of golf, the pro will ask me how things went. I usually respond with the trite expression..."I should have stayed home, and pounded my thumb with a hammer." We all laugh, and I go on my way.

However, Sunday, after the second round of the Mud Ball Open, and another disappointing performance, I apparently let my subconscious mind take over, where my conscious mind should have been in charge.

I got home...eager to try out the new plug aerator I had bought to manage the estate on Maniacal Lane. Now, for the agronomically challenged, a plug aerator is a device consisting of a series of spiked wheels. It is designed to be towed behind a riding mower, and the wheels penetrate the ground as they roll, bringing up a "plug" of soil, and leaving a hole. These holes allow water and nutrients to penetrate into the lawn to promote a healthy lawn. To accomplish this, one must place a considerable amount of weight on the aerator to help the spikes penetrate into the winter hardened soil. In my case, I chose five full sized cinder blocks and four 5X9concrete flat stones.

Plenty of weight, as it turned out. The problem came after I had finished, and decided to remove the aerator in question from my mower. Keep in mind, I have a Masters Degree in Civil Engineering. Forgetting my physics classes, I disconnected the aerator from the mower, and the enormous weight of the concrete blocks immediately flipped the aerator backwards, "pounding my thumb with the hammer" of the tongue of the aerator underneath the back edge of the mower. A nickel sized chunk of flesh was removed from my thumb, and my regularly scheduled, one pint blood donation was accomplished in the flash of a piece of yard equipment. On the positive side, I did manage to teach the neighborhood kids a few new words. The good news is, the injury was high enough up on my thumb I don't think it will prevent me from pursuing my passion again this weekend.

When I told the folks at work about it, they asked when was the last time I had a teatnus shot. I explained that I injure myself more than "Tim, the Tool Man", so the wife has me on an annual vaccination schedule. Sometime, I will show you my tags.

Those That Can't Do....Teach

In the aftermath of another disappointing golf outing I have decided to take up a new pastime as a teaching professional...

Important Golf Lesson

Saying Nothing at All

To the two, maybe three readers out there, I apologize for the complete dearth in posting. I truly have had nothing worthwhile to write about. The grass is dormant, the garden, un-tilled. Work??? Yawwwnnnn!!! Not much to do when you find yourself with a $1 billion shortfall. Sad to say, but the weekly hanging out with grumpy old men at Caprock on Thursday nights has become the highlight of the week.

But, wait...what is that...looming on the horizon??? Oh yeah, the first golf tournament of the season is this weekend. The Mud Ball Open, in which Damian, RB and I will throw our best at the field to see if we can bring home the coveted "Pro Shop Credit". Given that RB and I will be competing for the first time since completely re-building our swings, and Damian will surely have the ass-chewing from the mother of four ringing in his ears, it is unlikely we will be competitive at all.

But, all that being said, we cannot do any worse than last year. After the first day's round, we found ourselves 10 strokes worse than the NEXT TO LAST PLACE team. Yes, that's right...not 10 strokes worse than the best...10 strokes worse than the worst.

Anyway...stay tuned for a report from the back nine tomorrow. There is bound to be plenty of comedic relief.

3:00 A.M. Phone Call

By now, I am sure you have heard Hillary's campaign ad about receiving a phone call in the White House at 3:00 A.M. Her question is..."Who do you want answering that phone?"

My question is..."Who the hell is calling at 3:00 A.M.????

Here are a few scenarios...feel free to add your own.



"Hello, President Clinton, may I help you?"

"Good evening, I would like to visit with you about Dish Network's total coverage package..."



"Hi, this is President Clinton, what can I do for you?"

"Good evening, little lady, is the man of the house in?"



"President Clinton. may I help you?"

"Hi Hill, this is Mon, is Bill there?"



"You have reached President McCain...it is 3:00 A.M. and I don't get up to pee until 5:00 A.M. Please call back at 5:15. If you are unable to catch me then, be sure to catch me before 4:30 p.m. or after 6:00 p.m., as I will be catching the "Early Bird Special" at Denny's during those hours."



"Hello, President Obama speaking..."

"Whasssuupppp!!!!"

Vaya con Queso, Oscar

Oscar apparently missed Wanda more than we thought, and decided to join her today. A week ago, he seemed perfectly normal. But beginning this weekend, he stopped eating, and declined very rapidly. Last night, he staggered into the living room and looked at me with a lost look. I picked him up and placed him on my chest while I lay on the couch watching TV. This was a position he assumed almost every night of his 18 year life. Looking back, I think it might have been his way of saying goodbye.

This morning, he could not stand up at all. At 11:00 a.m., Dr. Clark sent him on his way to join his long time companion. Tonight, he is lying next to Wanda at the farm.

While Wanda was the prettier cat, and the much better behaved, she was always kind of a loner. She would come see you when she decided it was in her best interest. Oscar was much more sociable, and would impose himself into whatever activity you happened to be undertaking, including working with power woodworking equipment. And, as mentioned earlier, he would cap off each day by curling up on my chest as I lay on the couch.

It was because of this difference that I took this a little harder than losing Wanda. After all, even with Wanda gone, we still had Oscar. I recall Dr. Clark telling me the day Wanda died, not to be surprised if Oscar followed her fairly quickly. Sure enough, he only made two more months. It was how rapidly he declined that took me completely by surprise. Rhonda told me this morning Oscar had decided it was time, and chose when to go.

At any rate, it feels a little odd tonight, going to bed for the first time in nearly 20 years without a damn cat in the house.

Farewell Oscar...we were well met. I'll see you around the bend.

Politics in Moderation

Been away for a while...hopping in and out of other blogs. Whilst there, I have come to a conclusion or two.

One. Tammy runs a lot.

Two. The current education system in this state and country could use a lot of improvement.

Three. Sal Costello has a hard on for fuck-ups at TxDOT.

Four. Don't get crosswise with Tyson on the old haves vs. have nots argument.

Finally, a moderate position has a lot more appeal to me than it used to.

As I read a satirical posting by Tyson regarding the position taken by many hard nose right-wingers, it struck me that these people sound every bit as silly as the flitzy-ditzy "We Are the World" crowd on the left.

Extremists on both sides of the aisle detract the rest of us from coming to reasonable, workable solutions to the problems facing our country. Conservatives will smack you in the face with the flag, and warn you of the coming Stalinization of the country. Liberals will tell you that evil corporations extract baby oil from actual babies.

Meanwhile, I would wager the majority of the country wishes both sides would shut the fuck up and get something done. This problem has become more and more prevalent at the Congressional and Presidential level. Thus, we have reached a point of stagnation. Neither side will give an inch, for fear of being labeled as one on the "other" side. As a result, I have come to view the entire lot as a bunch of Republicrats.

Rush Limbaugh refers to moderates as people who have no convictions. I will respect his opinion, but choose to disagree. I would put forth the notion that moderates may be the most pragmatic of all. In my definition, they are people willing to give and take enough to move forward with solutions, instead of continuing the chest thumping, head banging, "you are wrong" posturing that has divided this country long enough.

Now that I have had time to wander a bit, and hear the rantings and ravings of both sides, I am at last able to make my choice for President in "08...John McCain. After all, he is despised by Conservatives and Liberals alike. He must be moving in the right direction.

The Price of Fame

I bumped into Lady Raider Head Coach Kristy Curry at The Cracker Barrel tonight. Apparently she cooks the same as I often do. On the sleek shiny surface of a Discover card. I simply said "Hi, Coach, how are you." She said "Hi" back, and that was it.

A few moments later, I spied her cornered against the wall of salt water taffy by one of those ubiquitous Tech fans. 40-something, TTU hat and a demeanor of "know it all"-ness. She seemed to be politely conversing with the guy, but I couldn't help the feeling she might have felt trapped. For a moment, chivalry reared its foolish head, and I contemplated trying to distract the two in order to give her an escape route. Then, I thought, "Fish, for all you know, that guy is her brother, and they are discussing a suitable nursing home for Mom."

So, I left her to her situation, paid for my "Old Fashioned" Americana food, and left. Driving home, I thought of the many times I have been questioned after hours about transportation issues in Lubbock. Occasionally, I resent it, and want to give these people my number and tell them to call me between 8 and 5 if they can catch me on a day that is NOT a State holiday. More often than not however, I do just as Coach Curry did, and try my best to answer the questions if I can. Generally, I don't mind, and actually find it somewhat satisfying that so many people are interested in the area I have chosen for a career. I mean, when was the last time you saw the burger flipper from McDonald's pulled aside, and questioned about the "Special Sauce"? Other than by the health department, I mean.

I, in no way, mean to equate myself with the fame enjoyed by Kristy Curry. But with varying levels of fame, come the necessity of dealing with people outside your normal environs. She is paid a handsome salary, and part of her job is to engage the fans in converation. I work for the taxpayers, and that sometimes means I have to try and explain how and why their tax dollars are being expended.

Coach Curry seems to be a genuinely nice person. Who knows...Maybe she will go on to win a National Championship, and someday I will meet her again...at the groundbreaking for the Kristy Curry Outer Loop.

Yaaaawwwwnnn!

Jeez, I am totally and completely uninspired. Life has been unnervingly "Blah" the past couple of weeks. Nothing is even remotely irritating to me. Could this be a good thing, or a sign of the apocalypse?

Tammy, give me one of your liberal rants about saving the world to set me off.

Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy

Somebody asked me today if I was happy. And, strangely enough, I had to think about it. I mean, what the hell does that mean? Am I happy in a "the sky is blue, and the birds are singing" way? How about happy in a "I am so blessed by God" way? Or maybe I am happy in a "Jeez, at least I am not that fat fuck I saw at Wal-Mart yesterday" way.

After some thought, I responded that yes, I am happy. In a general "life doesn't suck so much" kind of way. Of course, I am not always happy. I've only known one person like that. A woman who used to work at the office, was never sad, angry, grumpy or even irritable. She was ALWAYS happy, no matter what. And it used to really piss me off. One day I told her, "Darlene, before you retire from here, I AM going to make you get mad about something!" But, alas and alack, I failed.

At any rate, yes, I am happy. What's not to be happy about. I have a good job, nice house, beautiful wife, no kids, get to play golf at the Country Club any time I want and I occasionally get to blow off steam on this site like I can do nowhere else. And, oh yeah, I won $22 from RB on the Ohio State-LSU football game tonight. Now, THAT really made me happy.

Anyway, tomorrow it is back to work, where I am sure some disgruntled member of the public will turn Happy back into Grumpy. And if that doesn't occur, I can always go shopping at Wal-Mart.