Inside The Box

May I Help?

2009-06-13T18:50:00.000-07:00

I was dutifully working on the glass cabinet doors for the kitchen remodel this afternoon, when I was approached by the lady next door with an entreaty to help her get her lawn mower started. Figuring she had simply forgotten to apply the choke, I said sure. No luck...the mower was dead, she was already sweating profusely, and as mentioned in an earlier post, her husband had recently parted ways with one of his legs.

I offered to mow her horribly overgrown back yard with my mower. She accepted very gratefully, and I began. On average, the weeds and grass were about 2' tall, with gopher mounds, wood and bricks mixed in sporadically. I mowed it once on the highest setting, and went back over it two settings lower.

I was interrupted once by rain and hail, causing me to run home in panic to put the Tundra in the garage. After two hours and another rain shower, I was able to finish the job, and return to the garage to finish the four doors I had vowed to build today.

Some days, it just doesn't pay to work with the garage doors open. Tomorrow, I attack my own yard.

A Fond, but Painful, Farewell

2009-06-09T19:31:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning, but the last thing I wanted to do was get up. I knew the task that awaited me. It was a task I had known was coming for a while, but I was still not ready for it. This morning, I had to escort my dear Katie to the clearing at the end of the path.

Katie began her journey 14 years ago in Amarillo. The wife and I were heading to Colorado for vacation, and she mentioned some strange creature called a Pembroke Welsh Corgi was available if we wanted to take a look. I said sure, why not. I had no idea how taken I was going to be with this dog. Little short legs offset by ears that more than made up for her stature, and a doggie smile no one could resist. We made arrangements to pick her up on the way back to Texas, and thus began our life with Corgi's.

Katie had hip problems forever, but that did not keep her from running around the yard, keeping the other dogs in line.

She adapted to this problem amazingly, and was even able to compete for a short while in agility and obedience. It was the progression of this condition, along with other age related issues that finally brought me to the painful decision I had to make.

Katie has been a treasure in my life, and I will always be grateful for the joy she brought me and the wife. Travel well, Scooter...I will see you down the road.

Peace of Mind

2009-04-29T19:50:00.000-07:00

Whilst working on the kitchen remodel last week, I noticed some contractor types working diligently at the hillbilly neighbors house. Turns out, the contractors were converting the home to the north to be ADA accessible. During a paintbrush washing episode, I encountered Jerry, the hillbilly neighbor, tooling around in a wheelchair. Imagine my surprise when I noticed he was missing a leg. He greeted me with something like this. "Hey Steve, I lost a leg since the last time I saw you. It's really kind of an interesting story."

Turns out, he had gone in for some type of arterial surgery, and due to complications from a staph infection, six weeks later, he came out, one leg short.

What really hit me was his complacency about the whole situation. I have more respect for the lunatic now. I don't believe I could have handled such a situation as well as he apparently has.

Kind of renews my faith in the phrase..."Let not your heart be troubled."

Achoo, Snort, Oink, Sniff

2009-04-28T19:16:00.000-07:00

Well, here we go again. The fucking swine flu this time. Don't know how we survived Monkey Pox, SARS, Anthrax, Bird Flu, Flu Manchu or any of a number of the next great pestilences that were supposed to wipe us from the face of the earth.

I am not sure I will survive this round of scare tactics and government supported panic mongering. My only hope is that "man made" global warming will raise the temps enough to kill of the swine virus.

Jesus people...get a life, take a chance and don't worry. Be happy.

Death on the Blogosphere

2009-04-10T20:10:00.000-07:00

I got tired of looking at the Monster Dog on my own blog, so I decided to just post something. I have nothing to say really, just needed to put up something new.

Got home last night from the TNTalk meeting and was greeted with an all-out dog fight as I walked in the door. Seems the Monster Dog has an affectation for all of the toys in the house, and Sam decided he had had enough of Winston hogging all of the toys. Sam jumped on him, and Winston responded in kind. That got Tom all excited, so he jumped in. The two female Aussie's hightailed it out of the room, and poor deaf and senile Katie never knew anything happened. It's a good thing, because it took all the wife and I had to get the other three apart. I made the bad choice of trying to lift the 52 pound Corgi out of the mix, and discovered he had Tom hanging off of him with a death grip. By the time it was over, I had a little nip to the finger, a nice gouge in my calf and a sore back from lifting a furry cannonball without using my legs.

All is well now, and the dogs seem no worse for the wear. Thank goodness, as the wife heads out tomorrow for a two week journey to Canada for intense dog show training. As for me, I hope to finally get all of the finishing touches on the kitchen remodel while she is gone. I have been slacking for too long.

Monster Dog

2009-03-17T20:16:00.000-07:00

The wife occasionally rescues Corgis who have found themselves homeless for one reason or the other. I am proud of her for the work and effort she puts into this, as she has successfully found good homes for a dozen or so dogs who might have otherwise been destroyed.

Now...a typical Corgi will stand about 10 inches and weigh in around 20-25 pounds. Imagine my shock when I first laid eyes on the Dogstrosity she brought home last week. His name is Winston, he is a really nice looking and friendly dog. But, at 52pounds, he walks the line between dog and pot belly pig.

As the wife has begun the process of finding him a home, I have suggested we find Sasquatch. I think it would be a great companion for him.

I threw in a photo of Katie for comparison purposes.

Change We Can Believe In

2009-03-10T19:03:00.000-07:00

Couple of weeks ago, I went to Josie's for breakfast burritos. Simple enough order...one sausage, egg and potato for the wife and two sausage potato and cheese for me, and a bag of chips and queso. Picked up the order, noticed the price was a little high, but you know...what with the price of gas and all. Got home and discovered a bag filled with carne guisada and bean burritos and a tub of Menudo. But hey, they did remember the chips and queso. Took it back, and was asked if I had called the right store. Made them get out the phone book, and showed them the number I had called. They acknowledged I had called the right place, but the only order they had for someone with my name was the bag of crap I had picked up. They asked me what I had ordered, and I informed them it sure wasn't an order for dead pig feet floating in grease as they had presented to me. After a few more minutes of arguing whether I knew what I had ordered, they sent me on my way. (I had to do the math for them for the refund they owed me). Got home with my three burritos, only to find they had given me three sausage, egg and potato burritos instead of what I had actually ordered. Screw it, said I, and commenced to eating what I could.

Yesterday, I went to Wendy's to grab lunch. Couldn't get in the drive thru, so I went inside. Great, only one person in line. Ordered a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger, Caesar Side Salad and small fries for the wife, and a Baconator combo for myself. Then I waited as they waited on several people, and proceeded to provide food for the same people, as I waited. While waiting, two different people returned to the counter with food that differed from what they had ordered and one guy came in from the drive thru to announce he had been waiting 15 minutes for his order to come out.

Should have known bad things would happen. Turns out, one of the people who was returning a wrong order was actually returning my Baconator. They apologized and told me it would be out soon. They finally bring it out, and I grab my food and head for the house. Get home to find the wife's order was right (Thank God), but instead of a Baconator, I have a Wendy's single. You guessed it...the guy who returned my burger had actually ordered a single. Scraped off the vegetables, wolfed it down and went back to work.

I have a solution. Put these dipshits to work at the IRS (I'll never worry about an audit again), and put all of the laid off auto workers in the fast food restaurants. Sure, food may cost more, but at least these guys would know how to put shit together.

Dazed & Confused

2009-02-28T15:43:00.000-08:00

Well, the verdict came in on Thursday. My attempt at joining the Clone Army was rebuffed firmly. They instead chose an individual from Odessa who, if he had been in Lubbock, would have been working for me. Now, I get to train this new guy in how to run a metropolitan District. It would be too easy to let him twist and turn, but it would be detrimental to what I am still trying to accomplish here. So, I will get glad in the same pants I got mad in, and continue to be the "best Director of Transportation Planning & Development in the State", to quote my former boss when he heard the news. If that were truly the case, would I not now be the District Engineer?

The most troubling aspect of all of this is, they had a second round of interviews for the job. Of the three they chose to interview, two were from Odessa and one was from Atlanta, TX, and none had any experience in running a District the size of Lubbock, nor experience as a TP&D. Add to that, the fact that I felt I nailed my interview, I am completely dumbfounded by the way things played out. So much so that I have requested a meeting with the guy who did the hiring in order to get some answers. He's got some 'splaining to do.

At any rate, I met the new boss yesterday. He is three or four years younger than me, much like the previous boss. At first glance, he seems like someone I will be able to work with. Time will tell.

Gotta go order some Hawaiian shirts now.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

2009-02-23T18:26:00.000-08:00

I sit by the phone, day in and day out, like a high school girl before the prom. Ring, damn you. I pick it up and call the Secretary. "Is this damn thing working?" "Forget it, and get back to work", she chides me.

I have grown weary of the wait, and simply want an answer. A trip to Men's Wearhouse, or hotshirts.com is on the line.

Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

A Luddite Asks for Help

2009-02-21T19:33:00.000-08:00

As I went to post my last diatribe, I was greeted with the following message:

Bad Request
Your client has issued a malformed or illegal request

I then hit the back button, and the post had disappeared. I then hit the forward button, and was informed that the post had posted successfully, and lo and behold, there it was. As one who knows very little about these confounded computin' machines...what the hell is going on?

And, We Try Again

2009-02-21T19:06:00.000-08:00

I will try this again. If it gets lost this time, it will be the end of "Inside The Box", because I just don't have the patience.

As only I know I was saying, I have been listening to the right wing talk shows lately with a touch of deja vu. During the election, all I heard from Rush et. al. was their disgust at the way the left was running down the country. The left was rambling on about how George Bush was trampling on the Constitution, the war in Iraq was bankrupting the country, and Republicans were forcing Granny to choose between dog food and drugs.

This talk disgusted Rush, Sean and Glenn because, by God this country was a great place to live, and people should stop running it down.

But, with the election of Barak Obama, we were promised change. So far the only change I have seen is in the demeanor of the right wing talk shows. Now, it is they how are portending the end days of the country. Obama is trampling on the Constitution, the economic stimulus bill will bankrupt the country, and Democrat's will force us to choose between flying in our private jets and flying first class.

Bottom line...they are all full of crap. The country has survived much worse than this, and will stumble through this current crisis. I refuse to accept the premise that either party has the ability to bring this country to its knees, any more than Man has the ability to significantly affect the environment.

We, the people are the country, the government, and the economy. We adjust to the fleeting power mongers in Washington, and keep on plugging ahead. Bring it on, you elected dim bulbs...you may not be here in 2, 4 or 6 years, but we will.

As to the economy, I know it is relatively bad, but it has been much worse, and I believe it will get much better. And, if it doesn't, I will be here with my head firmly planted in the sand.

One of These Things Is Just Like The Other

2009-02-19T20:47:00.000-08:00

Well, shit. I just spent 30 minutes writing a post about the current economic situation, and when I went to post, it disappeared. If I can remember what the fuck I said, I will try it again tomorrow.

You Will Be Assimilated

2009-02-10T19:34:00.000-08:00

Greetings from the Clone Army. Tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. in Dallas I will interview for the job I have worked for 28 years to attain. I am hopeful, and feel the only thing I can do now, is shoot myself in the foot. I have been trying to walk the tight rope of being proactive in running the District in the absence of a District Engineer and keeping my head down to avoid any last minute pitfalls.

Sometimes fate just doesn't cooperate.

With President Obama's economic stimulus bill looming, I have been working to position Lubbock to make the most of this one time shot in the arm. Unfortunately, this comes with media coverage. This week (two days old), I have been interviewed twice by the newspaper and once by Fox 34. Getting in the way of the unveiling of my brilliant plan for Lubbock is the unfortunate revelation that the Department no longer has the funding available to honor a commitment to the City to move a project forward.

This would be much easier to explain if I was not having to measure every word I say while assuming my future boss may be privy to each interview. I am not accustomed to having to spin something bad into something positive, and then sell it to the City and other leaders as a fantastically forward thinking opportunity. Luckily, my previous boss was a pretty good teacher in the ways of the clone Army.

Honestly, the plan I have put together IS a good plan. Ironically, it's success rests with the same President Obama I have been somewhat critical of. No economic stimulus plan, no Billyfish plan.

At any rate, it will all be over soon. I head to Big D tomorrow for what will most likely be the final interview of my career. Whatever the result may be, I am ready for an answer.

I miss my Hawaiian shirts.

What's in a Name?

2009-01-24T20:14:00.000-08:00

After nearly 12 months out of the cat business, we have jumped back in. Circumstances brought a couple of friends of ours to ask if we would be willing to assume the care of a couple of 11 year old balls of feline fur, and we decided...why not? Last weekend we met Sanchi and Mango, and they began to get accustomed to their new home.

Of course, I had a hell of a time remembering Sanchi's name, and eventually began calling him Satchmo, because it was as close as I could get. Then, a couple of days ago, the wife asked how Melon was doing. I said, "You mean Mango?" She admitted she couldn't always remember Mango, but knew it was a melon of some type.

So, for a while at least, we will probably sway back and forth between Sanchi/Satchmo and Mango/Melon...but I suspect we will eventually fall into Mel and Mo.

They don't seem to care what we call them as long as we call them for dinner. They are adapting quickly, and seem very happy. We are introducing them to the dogs slowly and deliberately. So far, they get along great with Tom because they are bigger than him...they seem to have accepted Sam, because everybody loves Sam...they scare the hell out of Sara...and they have yet to meet Katie or Ellen.

At any rate...I give you Sanchi/Satchmo and Mango/Mel...you figure out which is which.

Find Your Center...Ooohhhhhhmmmmmm!

2009-01-12T18:54:00.000-08:00

I try...I really try. Keep your cool Fish, it really isn't that big of a deal. But when I see something like this, I just go BERSERK. (For the old farts out there, they might recognize that as a paraphrase of a line from Billy Jack).

Parking lots are my bane. Between the dim bulbs who can't cram a car into one spot, the lazy fucks constantly trolling for the closest spot and the mental midgets who leave the shopping cart in the middle of that spot when the cart return area is all of two cars away, it is all I can do to keep from just ramming the Tundra straight through the front doors.

When I slow down for you to walk across in front of me, MOVE YOUR ASS. Don't slow down, answer your phone and walk along the driving lane instead of across it. Just because you have a big load of crap from Home Depot to load into your truck does not entitle you to park in the driving lane in front of the door and prevent others from coming and going. Haul it out to the parking lot and load it yourself like a man. Hell, if I could cram it all in a Maxima for years, you can sure as hell shove it into your Lincoln or Cadillac "pickup" by yourself.

But tonight I witnessed a new low. Whilst parked at Carino's in the take out spot (don't get me started on how incredibly inefficient that operation is), I was blocked in by a vehicle who had parked at the front door in order to load an elderly disabled gentleman in the front seat. Now, before you get all bent out of shape about how I hate the handicapped, and how your Dad lost his legs in some horrible lumberjack accident providing lumber for the growing industrial revolution, I must tell you there were three (3) vacant handicapped parking spots not fifteen feet from where these selfish SOB's had parked.

For Chrissake, The American's with Disabilities Act was passed for just this reason. Move your rig, haul Grandpa the extra few feet, and spend the rest of the fucking night getting him loaded up. As long as you are out of the way, in your specially designated, front row, premium parking spot, I don't give a crap.

All I am asking for is a little consideration. Thanks for listening.

Happy Freakin' New Year

2009-01-03T17:57:00.000-08:00

2009 has gotten off to a glorious start. Got to play golf in shorts and sandals on Jan. 2nd and 3rd. God, I love West Texas.

And, yesterday I received a phone call at home from my boss. He is moving back to Tyler to take over that District. Looks like I will have one final shot at the top job here in Lubbock. Guess I better shine my shoes, rent a suit, and sharpen up my ass kissing skills.

Phase 1 - Complete (More or Less)

2008-12-24T20:19:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-19T22:02:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-26T18:42:00.000-08:00

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

2008-11-16T18:43:00.000-08:00

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???

2008-11-12T18:21:00.000-08:00

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`

2008-11-03T18:53:00.000-08:00

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

2008-10-31T19:42:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-26T19:44:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-24T20:16:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-04T19:27:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-28T18:41:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-20T17:56:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-17T18:32:00.000-07:00

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

2008-09-03T18:18:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-26T18:50:00.000-07:00

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'

2008-08-16T08:28:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-08-08T20:46:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-29T10:20:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-19T19:24:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-13T19:27:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-12T13:01:00.000-07:00

Short and sweet post today.

I suck...nuff said.

Club Championship - Day 1

2008-07-11T19:52:00.000-07:00

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

2008-07-07T19:08:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-29T19:14:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-17T19:33:00.000-07:00

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

2008-06-08T19:58:00.000-07:00

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

2008-05-17T19:15:00.000-07:00

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!!!

2008-05-06T18:42:00.000-07:00

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!!!

2008-04-25T19:06:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-19T19:04:00.000-07:00

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

2008-04-10T19:44:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-24T18:32:00.000-07:00

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...

2008-03-18T18:32:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-17T18:23:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-14T21:21:00.000-07:00

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

2008-03-02T18:27:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-27T18:36:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-15T19:17:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-04T18:55:00.000-08:00

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!

2008-01-27T18:12:00.000-08:00

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

2008-01-07T21:23:00.000-08:00

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.

A Farewell to Wanda

2007-12-31T17:59:00.000-08:00

Wanda entered the clearing at the end of the path today. She was our 17 year old Maine Coon cat. Wanda was so named because her markings reminded my sister-in-law of a fish, and "A Fish Called Wanda" was out at the time. It just stood to reason to have "A Cat Called Wanda".

She fell to a degenerative spinal disease that was making it harder and harder for her to get around. When she was unable to stand this morning, I knew her time had come. She was put to rest at 1:00 p.m., and by 2:30, she was resting comfortably next to Bob Barker the dog, under a tree at the farm.

She will be missed.

Wii...Whopeee...Yahoo...etc.

2007-12-27T19:53:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I went to Best Buy to get a cable connection to help the wife transfer files from the old laptop to the new. Foolish me, I thought it would be a quick visit to purchase a $40 cord. That was, until I spied the wife with a death grip on a Wii game console. They only had three and the wife was convinced no more would ever be arriving. "Screw it", said I...get the damn thing, and let's take the next step towards technology damnation.

It began with Atari 2600, and Intellivision, and I see no end in sight. We now have three versions of Nintendo game systems and four versions of Game Boy. Tack onto that, the two versions of SLR film cameras, the two digital cameras and the latest addition of an SLR digital camera, and I have assured Japan's GDP will continue to grow at a pace far exceeding that of the USA. I am convinced the next round of technology will simply require you to wink at someone then crap out a 10 X 7 glossy.

As I was swirling through this sucking cesspool of technological advancement, I floated past the new, "must have" HD televisions. Now, godammit...I have already wrongly chased the Betamax rainbow...switched to VHS...bought all of the albums, 8-tracks, cassettes and CD's of my favorite bands, and actually invested in two DVD players.

Now, I understand that in 2009, the "industry" is going to require me to buy a digital TV. OK, I can live with that, but who decided we had to go with this asinine "flat screen" technology???? These damn, fancy new TV's are squashed into flat and wide formats, making everybody on the screen look like a bunch of eggheads. What's worse is...none of these TV's will fit in the previous entertainment centers.

I measured the opening in the $2500 piece of furniture I bought two years ago, and discovered a tiny 32 inch "new TV" will fit. But a reasonably viewable 37 inch TV is 1/4 inch too wide!!!! Clearly, the TV people and the furniture people conspired many years ago to force us to buy a bunch of crap we really don't need.

That's it!!! I refuse to play any more. No I-pods...no MP3 players...no skinny-ass HDTV's. Give me a giant, fat-ass TV with a clothes hangar antenna...AM radio...and two cans on a string...I'm calling my Congressman!

Have a Great Summer

2007-12-23T18:47:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was officially the first day of summer. As the shortest day of the year passes, and the days begin to get longer, it is the first day of summer as far as I am concerned. Today was a great example.

Twenty four degrees at sunrise...worked on setting up an agility course in the back yard...cleaned up the Elm tree detritus in the front yard...had some lunch and realized what a beautiful day December 23rd had become.

Made the long 1 minute drive to the golf course and played a leisurely 18 holes in shirt sleeves. Shot a nice 85 (Yes Al, I shot a 42 on the back nine). Thanked the good Lord above for putting me in this place at this time.

Happy summer everyone...it only gets better from here on in. (Until June 21st anyway.)

Countdown From 21...

2007-12-04T18:41:00.001-08:00

21 days till Christmas, and I don't think I will make it this time. I have armored myself to the unending Christmas music in Wal Mart beginning sometime in September. I just remind myself that the worker bees have no recourse, so it could be worse.

The U-Can Share food drive on Channel 11 news has made me resort to watching re-runs of Saved by the Bell at 10:00. Those I can adjust to.

It is the onslaught of Christmas commercials that even my vintage Betamax can't escape.

If Rudolph is sick, is the Aflac duck REALLY going to guide Santa's sleigh? How many people are actually buying these curvy looking diamond pendants that every seller seems to be pushing? And, honestly I don't give a fuck if he went to Jerod's! But the worst are these goddamn Lexus and Lincoln commercials. Who in the hell is giving someone a fucking Lexus for Christmas? And, what kind of gay man wants a goddamn Lincoln instead of power tools? How much are these dipshits spending to target the 12 people in the country that can afford to give these kind of gifts? Every time the wife looks at me after one of the ads. I dangle her keys in front of her and say..."Enjoy your minivan darlin'!"

Sweet Jesus, in defense of your birthday, please make it stop and bring back Santa riding the Norelco razor down the snowy slope.

Greetings From the Other Side

2007-12-03T19:02:00.000-08:00

Made a little trip to death's door this weekend. Got home from Thursday Night's meeting, and things just didn't feel right. Went to bed, and at 12:30, I got the first of what would be an entire night's reminders of why things didn't feel right. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the sluices were flowing freely from both ends all night. Now, I don't remember the last time I threw up (I am sure it was alcohol induced at that time), but I now remember why I am not bulimic. I don't know about you, but I don't view the act of vomiting to be a very pleasant one.

Anyway, went ahead and got up Friday to go to work. Hoping against hope it was just something I had eaten. After sitting through a two hour video conference in a daze, the boss told me to either go home or to the morgue...my choice. I felt, and apparently looked, like death warmed over.

I went home and spent the next 36 hours in one of three places...asleep in bed...asleep on the couch...or asleep on the bathroom floor. I kinda preferred the latter, as the tile and porcelain were cool on my forehead.

I emerged from the fog Sunday, and was able to get dressed and actually do a few chores for the wife. That is two weekends in a row with no golf. Starting to piss me off. It's sad when the highlight of your weekend is a grilled chicken sandwich from Whataburger that actually stays where you put it.

What the Hell...It's Thanksgiving

2007-11-22T18:57:00.000-08:00

Everybody seems to feel the need to write something about Thanksgiving, so why should I be any different. Norman Rockwell saw Thanksgiving as an opportunity to gather with family, Dad in coat and tie, Mom in a frilly dress, slowly basting the turkey. Dick and Jane sitting before the fire, playing checkers. Clearly, Norman never visited the home on "Maniacal Lane".

Khiva and I had planned to make our usual family avoidance trip to Gunnison, CO. However, the demands of the Clone Army at TxDOT, and the weather caused us to choose to stay home instead. We had been invited to her parents here in Lubbock for Thursday and my parents in Austin for the weekend. We chose to just tell everyone we had gone to Gunnison and burrow into our own home for the weekend.

Fine with me...I had already composed a list of self-imposed "Honey-Do's" to keep me occupied for the four days. Rake leaves, clean the porches, put up Christmas lights, hang an exterior flood light on the north end of the house, golf if possible. Then, it began to snow. Crap, now what was I to do for 4 days?

Leave it to the hillbilly freaks living to my north to solve my problem. Mr. Gopher had made a return visit to my beautiful yard. Last year, 10 chlorine tablets and the water drained from the swimming pool took care of the problem. The pool was already drained, so I found the entrance to the burrow, dropped in a dozen chlorine tablets and turned on the hose. An hour later, and no water was running out of the hole. I decided to look over the fence into "Hillbilly Land" and saw dozens of gopher mounds all over their back yard. I could have pumped the well dry and not filled the damn colony up. I turned the water off, plugged the opening, and prayed the accumulated chlorine gas would make its way through the 8 miles of tunnels in the neighbors yard.

Spent the rest of the afternoon cloistered in the garage, cleaning out the Tundra and repairing various pieces of broken dog equipment. One day down, and three snowy, cold days to go. Not sure how I am going to keep myself busy for that long. With any luck, there will be a chlorine gas explosion in the neighbors back yard, and their dump of a house will be swallowed into Gopher Land.

For that, I would give thanks...

Bang the Drum Slowly - Part II

2007-11-16T19:32:00.000-08:00

Reading a post from my old friend, Shoeless,earlier got me to thinking back to days gone by, with friends gone awry. I recall a trip from the small town of Crested Butte, CO to the Village of Mt. Crested Butte, CO in a 1991 Maxima with Shoeless and "Payin' Ray", listening to Led Zeppelin. Most notably, the tune "In My Time of Dying",

This got me to thinking of one of my favorite "drummer" songs. As I have stated here previously, I think drummers are the forgotten force behind many great bands. John Bonham, of Led Zeppelin was one of the better of the bunch.

This song takes about 3 minutes to really kick off, so give it time. So, I give you Led Zeppelin

And to give you an idea of what I hear when I listen to this tune, here is a guy who shares my position Drummer's View .

And while we are at it...check out how hard Don Brewer works on this little known Grand Funk track Inside Looking Out .

Maybe It's Just Me

2007-11-06T20:11:00.000-08:00

Have you ever found yourself out in the general retail world, wanting to just beat the shit out of people? I found myself in that all too familiar position at Sam's today. I went to get some contacts, and found myself waiting as the only worker bee was helping some asshole get some glasses. Now, this guy may have been a perfectly nice guy, but the fact that he was there, and I was in a hurry made him an "asshole".

So, I went and picked up a couple of other things, and made my way back to the Optical shop, only to find myself being told to wait while the clerk screwed up someone else's order. When I finally found myself the center of the clerk's ineptitude, I was told they only had replacements for my right lens, and they would have to order the left. As steam roiled out of my ears, I had to remind myself that you go to Sam's for price...not service. The insipid worker bee did not make matters any better as she cheerily offered an "I'm sorry" platitude. I was intent on being pissed off about the whole sordid affair.

Not being one to learn from my mistakes, I ventured out to Wal-Mart this evening with the mission being to get my left eye contacts and pick up a few grocery items. First stop was the Optical shop, only to discover that they also did not have my left lens in stock. Fuck it...I headed to the grocery aisles to find myself behind a wide load in the pasta aisle who was commenting on the fact that "...that's a lot of pasta."

"There's a lot of pasta in those Spandex pants also, honey", I thought, while trying to maneuver around her centrally located cart. "How about you haul your ass over to the produce section and shove a salad down that gaping maw?" If nothing else, the aisles are wider. After doing battle with the rest of Lubbock's cheap bastards, I realized I had to traverse all the way to the Pharmacy section to pick up some Slim Fast bars for the wife. Pharmacy, my ass. Slim Fast bars are "food", and as such should be in the "food" aisles, goddammit!

Anyway, with Slim Fast bars secured, I made my way to the check out line, where I encountered two women who had obviously bought two of everything in the fucking store. About the time I had calmed enough to settle in and wait, they uttered that phrase that only two women would dare utter in a crowded check out line. "We need to check all of this out separately".

Why, why, why do women do this? If you are going to pay separately for two massive piles of Chinese made goods, GET TWO FUCKING CARTS. That way the rest of normal society will know to just leave their cart of goods in the aisle and beat a hasty retreat to the solace of a waiting whisky bottle at the house. Feminists, yell at me if you want. But, you would never see two men at The Home Depot pull this crap.

At any rate, I finally made it home, popped another blood pressure pill, pulled the cork on the aforementioned whisky bottle, and settled in to enjoy the company of the one person who doesn't constantly piss me off. Myself.

Half Time Entertainment

2007-10-29T18:44:00.000-07:00

This Friday, at halftime of the Ropes-New Home 6-man football game, Khiva and her doggie brethren and sistern will be the featured half time entertainment. Seems neither team has a band, so they have resorted to watching dogs performing agility activities. Could be some fun West Texas fall entertainment if you find yourself bored to death.

Going the Extra Mile

2007-10-21T20:49:00.000-07:00

Ever found yourself in the role of first responder at an automobile accident? Ever wonder how you would respond if you did? Do you see yourself as the heroic superman...pulling victims from flaming wreckage with one hand as you direct the Interstate traffic with the other? Or do you see yourself frozen in indecision.

These question popped into my mind last week at the TxDOT conference in College Station, as the "Extra Mile" citations were handed out to a few TxDOT employees who had found themselves in that situation and responded.

As for me, I have found myself in the first responder role twice, and surprisingly have reacted without thinking. Looking back...I have to wonder how I made decisions at that time. There were fatalities in both cases, and I don't believe there was anything I could have done to prevent it in either case. I just went into a strange mode and began DOING.

In one case, I helped extract the eventual victims from the car. In the other, the fatalities were obvious, and I began to direct traffic on an Austin Freeway.

Was any of this "going the extra mile"? No...it was simply reacting...probably just as any other average Joe would have done. However, I am relieved I did not "freeze up" in either case. I think all of us have the innate ability to respond for our fellow man in an emergency situation.

I applauded our "Extra Mile" honorees along with everyone else. Yes, they did respond in an exemplary manner and a couple of people are alive today for their efforts. And yes, I am sure they feel as if they did nothing special...only reacting to their fellow man in need.

It's good to know there are plenty of folks out there who are ready and willing to react when the situation slams its way into their life. Here's hoping you never find yourself there...but rest assured, you will know what to do.

The Fall of the Great Plains

2007-10-09T18:31:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I received a call from a headhunter, offering me a position that would provide about a 25% increase in salary, plus bonuses. He said they had positions currently available in all of the major Texas cities. I asked if that included Lubbock, and he said no. The cities he considered to be major included DFW, Houston, Austin and San Antonio. I thanked him for his interest and politely declined.

Crazy? I had to ask myself that question. But the past few mornings on the High Plains have made me realize I definitely made the right choice. Say what you want about Lubbock, but I defy you to show me a better place to spend the Fall. Yes, winters can be cold and blustery. Spring will tear the paint off your car with sandstorms, and Summer can be blistering hot. But Fall...it just cannot be beat.

When I was a younger man, I considered the Winter Solstice to be the first day of Summer, because the days would be getting longer, and the long party days of Summer would soon be here. Then, in late June, when the Summer Solstice would appear, I would be hit with a wave of dread, knowing the days would get shorter and all I could do was wait for late December.

Now, the Autumnal Equinox is the day I look forward to every year. Soon, the mowing I started out loving, but grew to hate would finally end. The golf course would be empty of fair weather golfers, leaving its pristine beauty for me and my fellow dew-busters. Strolling out into the back yard, late at night to move the water, I am struck by the sheer wonder of Fall on the High Plains. Crystal clear skies, cool temperatures and the feeling of how truly blessed I am to be where I am, when I am.

Keep your money headhunter...I sincerely love wading about in the mediocre pond that is Lubbock. Yes Virginia, there truly is more to life than money.

The N-Word Revisited

2007-10-03T17:26:00.000-07:00

As I said I would, I was finally able to visit with one of my Black friends about this topic. I used the word "nigger" several times in public with him in discussing why or why not we should be able to use it in context. In fact, I started the conversation with the statement..."Earl, I remember talking with you at my home many years ago about how I was always telling Nigger jokes..." He did not flinch, nor act affronted.

In fact, he agreed with me that if we continue to hide the word, how will we ever get beyond it. Surprisingly, he pointed out to me that the wanton usage of the word by kids today, both Black and White, has diminished what the word originally meant, and has made it seem more acceptable. I had not thought about the idea that today's generation might not equate the same racist derogatory nature to the word.

At any rate, I thanked him for setting me straight 20+ years ago in a mature and non-confrontational way. And even though I am not sure he remembers that night as well as I, he said he appreciated the comments, and was glad we were able to discuss it.

I think it may be time for our generation to move on to more important matters and lay Nigger to rest. Or, as Rodney King said, "Can't we all just get along?"

The Oddity of the Odyssey

2007-09-25T18:49:00.000-07:00

And...just like that, I am in the oldest car in the family again. Bought a new 2007 Honda Odyssey for the wife today.

Last Friday, Khiva mentioned it might be time to look at a new Odyssey. After all, the "old" one had been with us 22 months, and racked up an awe inspiring 44,000 miles. Surely the thing must be ready for the scrap heap. In her defense, she indicated a friend in Amarillo had just got one for a very good price, and if we could make a similar deal, we would be able to reduce the payments, while moving into a new vehicle.

Sure, said I, knowing it was probably not possible, but I would give it a try anyway. After all, if I could not make a deal, she was happy with the one she had. Lo and behold, Frank Brown Honda matched the price from Amarillo...$1000 below invoice. Unheard of in a Honda. OK...OK...but I am sure they will make up for it with a royal screwing in the trade in department.

Pessimistically, I drove to the Honda house this afternoon, prepared for a ridiculous offer of $15 or $16 thousand for a used van which I had pegged at $19,500. I was all prepared with my condescending chuckle, and a quick retort of, "Guys, we are waaaayyy apart." Imagine my surprise, when their first offer was $21,500. I stood there, stunned. Never in my life has a trade value come back higher than I thought it would be. Blue Book had it at $19,800. I continued to stand there, stupidly, trying to think of what to say next. The world was spinning off its axis. Finally, I blurted out, "If you will throw in the XM Radio, you have a deal." I needed desperately for them to say "No", so the world would be right again. Damned if the response wasn't, "Sure, I think we can throw that in."

"Where am I...what's happening?", I spluttered. Finally, my brain kicked back in and advised me to get the paperwork done, and get out, before the real dealers came back from lunch.

Bottom line...payed less than invoice for a new Honda...got $2000 above Blue Book for a trade, moved the wife into a new Odyssey...no cash out of pocket...payments reduced by $60/ month.

22 months from now, I can only hope for as much luck.

With Winning in Mind

2007-09-22T14:41:00.000-07:00

After my embarrassing performance in August at the Dos Rios Open, I decided it was time to either become like Pratas, and not give a shit...or by God, get better at golf. I chose the latter. Took my first lesson from Leon Van Rensburg a couple of weeks ago. He videoed the whole lesson, then commenced to tearing my swing apart from the ground up. The bastard nearly killed me, by contorting me into a more "athletic" stance and making me hit what seemed like 10,000 balls. When he showed me the tape, and the difference in the two swings, I had to admit, I had a horrible swing. I looked a lot like Gumby.

Not only am I taking lessons, I have begun reading Lanny Bassham's book "With Winning in Mind" to work on the mental aspect. Lot's of stuff that should be common sense, but there is a lot of emphasis on focusing on the good things you are doing, and forgetting the bad.

I went to the course this morning for my first round since the lesson. A weekend at PK and a trip to Denver had prevented me from picking up a club since the lesson. I arrived 45 minutes before my tee time, and proceeded to knock the crap out of a large bucket of balls.

What with me hitting balls before the round, and my incessant references to good shots, and thinking positively, my playing partners were looking desperately for what had become of Batman. At one point, Shane actually indicated he wanted the old Batman back, because the new one was too annoying.

At any rate, I managed to stumble my way to a dismal 96...however, I did hit a lot of good shots, and my misses were fairly straight. I think the problem lies in the fact that I wore myself out hitting too many balls before the round, and that I had eaten nothing but Slim Jims and Doritos since Thursday evening supper.

I am going out again in the morning, after eating a good meal tonight, and I will only hit 7 or 8 balls before we start. I am POSITIVE I will be able to improve. Let the re-building of Batman continue.

PK Weekend - The Sweet Smell of Survival

2007-09-12T19:18:00.000-07:00

In August of 1978, as I prepared to return for my sophomore year at Texas A&M, I had an idea. As my buddies and I would soon be falling back into the strictly regimented life of "Pissheads" in the Corps, why not get together for one last carefree weekend at Possum Kingdom? My parents had a rundown, two room "cabin" and I could haul the Glassmaster behind the '77 Pontiac Grand Prix. Let's do some skiing, drinking, farting, belching and smoking (tobacco for all you deviant potheads out there) before we returned. After all, once back in the Corps dorms...skiing would be a thing of the past. The other activities would continue unabated of course.

I called my buddies on the rotary phone and told them of my idea. It resonated with a couple of them, and as a result, I was joined by Ray Hengst, Jaime Anderson and Kevin Hendrick for what would become the "First Annual Big, Bad,Bodacious Bonfire and Cheap Wine Party". As I recall, there was no wine that year. In fact, the name would not come into usage for several years. The only true and lasting tradition that began on that weekend 30 years ago, was fire and the singing of the song "Over There". On Saturday night, for reasons only John Barleycorn can explain, Ray and I sat on the front steps, burned a Coors beer carton, and sang "Over There".

As the years passed, a new challenge and tradition emerged. Who could bring the nastiest wine? It had to be domestic, and had to have a screw top. You only think "Mad Dog" and "Thunderbird" are bad. My buddies set new standards for crap. It culminated in the year known infamously as "The Year of the Purple Haze". I broke the domestic rule, because I had found the craziest bottles of "Dago Red" I had ever seen. Each bottle held three liters of awful Italian Red wine. One (which I still have in my home collecting loose change) was in the shape of an elephant, sitting on its haunches with it's trunk in the air. The trunk formed the neck of the bottle, and extended approximately three feet from the floor. The other (which was mercifully broken before it could be uncorked) was a snail, with it's antennae rising into the air to form the neck. Ray was the unfortunate consumer of most of the first bottle, and proceeded to pave the dirt road in front of the cabin with purple bile. Hence..The Year of The Purple Haze.

Since then, the rundown shack has been replaced by the nice 3 bedroom, air conditioned home across Purple Haze Road. We have gotten older, gotten mortgages, taken more prescription drugs, sent our kids to A&M and generally become more responsible. However, the weekend continues. Sure, it has been moved to early September, instead of early August. We found the heat was hard to take, and who needs to be back in school in September anymore?

Tomorrow, I depart for the 30th Annual Big, Bad Bodacious Bonfire and Cheap Wine Party. So what, that the ever growing bonfires we used to burn with purloined lumber have regressed back to the original burning of a beer carton. (My setting myself on fire led to that change). Yes, the consumption of huge amounts of stinky feet wine has been replaced by cigars and Single Malt. But, we will gather again...as we have done for the 29 previous years to catch up and insult each other...and yes, probably drink, fart, belch and smoke together. Ahhh, the good life!

Funeral for a Friend

2007-09-08T20:44:00.000-07:00

Just returned last night from a quick trip to Somerville to see Sam Woods put in the ground. Sam was the Director of the Lubbock Metropolitan Planning Organization, and as such, he and I worked together for the past 5 or 6 years. Sam would irritate the hell out of me at times, and occasionally just piss me off.

But when he died suddenly last Monday, a strange feeling fell over me. I don't know if it was the unexpectedness of his death, or the sudden realization that I would never hear his goofy laugh again. Whatever it was, when the word came out Thursday morning that he would be buried 450 miles away at 2:00 p.m. the next day, I knew I had to go...as much for me, as for him. I guess I feared Sam would exit this world with nobody but his family to see him out.

When I arrived at the small chapel, I was relieved to see a gathering of 30 or so friends and family. I was pleasantly surprised to see my boss, three TxDOT'ers from the Austin Planning Division and two researchers from Texas Transportation Institute. Apparently Sam had gotten into their heads as well.

The biggest surprise came when the pastor asked if anyone would like to step forward and say a few words about Sam. Without really understanding why, I walked to the podium. I just felt that Sam's family needed to know what Sam had done in Lubbock, and how much he was appreciated and would be missed. Dammit, I even choked up a little bit. I was followed by Bill Frawley from TTI, who told a great story about Sam's love of food and eating (Sam was a large man), and even better, his ability to find a free meal here and there.

That was it...no one else stood up. That was OK though...Bill and I had our say, and the family expressed their appreciation after the service. The strange feeling was lifted, and I could turn my attention to the 7 1/2 hour drive home.

Farewell Sam...Shine on, you big, fat crazy diamond.

Eureka...I Found It!!!!

2007-08-31T19:29:00.000-07:00

As I drove home from the bowling alley last night at 9:15 p.m., I discovered the one true route. The route Jere Hart tells everyone about. I left the bowling alley at 30th and Slide and drove north along Slide to Loop 289, thence NW along Loop 289 to University Avenue, thence North on University to Kent Street and thusly, home to the place on Manioca Rd. All lights green...none red. Yes, God...there is one route in Lubbock that is not all red.

Mr. Hart...my heartfelt apologies.

The "N-Word"

2007-08-25T15:58:00.000-07:00

Nigger...there, I said it, and I have no qualms about it. I am at a loss as to why we cannot have a discussion in this country about this word without falling back on the 6th Grade-esque use of "N-word". I brought this up at Thursday night's meeting, and you would have thought I had publicly lynched Bill Cosby. There was a shocked gasp from my otherwise intelligent friends, when I asked what was wrong with saying the word "Nigger" in the context of "I believe the word Nigger is very offensive."

Just for the record, I do find the word "Nigger" very offensive. I used this word extensively when I was younger, and even made a habit of passing on jokes relating to this word. It was while hanging out with a black friend of mine in Littlefield in 1985, that it was made clear to me what this word meant to Black people. I ceased using the word in that context at that point and have not done it since. I promised one of the TNT members, I would have this discussion with that same Black friend to get his take on it, and I intend to follow up on that.

I am not interested in discussing the strange fact that it seems to be okay for Blacks to use that word, but not Whites. That is not the point. It is a word in the English language, and in the proper context, should be used. I mean...what the "F-word" is wrong with us?

Little League World Series

2007-08-20T18:19:00.000-07:00

I must admit, I began watching the Western All Stars in the LLWS with some trepidation. These kiddos had waltzed through the regionals with very little competition. Then, with all of the hype from the hometown still buzzing in their ears, I was afraid they would show up in Williamsport, overconfident and a little too cocky, and get their butts handed to them.

What a pleasant surprise to see them play solid ball, as a team and win handily. (An 80 mph fastball doesn't hurt.) These guys are conducting themselves wonderfully, and graciously. Listening to, and watching the coaches helps me see why. These coaches are nothing like the stereotypical Little League coaches I have heard so much about. As I watched the Georgia team get beat the other night, I saw a coach criticizing and ripping his players, who, in turn played right up to his expectations. The Lubbock coaches (and in fairness, the coaches from Minnesota and Arizona) continually encouraged their young charges, imploring them to relax and have fun.

When asked in interviews about a stellar pitching performance or a couple of home runs, these players constantly refer to the teamwork, and shy away from relishing the credit which is fairly deserved.

My fears assuaged, I will watch this team to the bitter end, and hope they can win it all. They have proven to be a better team than I imagined...both on the field and off.

Impending Doom - Lifted

2007-08-13T20:28:00.000-07:00

It struck me this weekend that my recent feeling of impending doom had lifted. Maybe it was the trip to Colorado...I don't know. But it is gone for now.

I was mowing the yard twice on Saturday. I had to mow it twice to clean up the mess my nephew made of it while we were in Colorado. I think he had the mower in road gear and just mowed in random patterns. There were gouges and burned spots all over and several bales of loose grass left in piles all over the yard.

But it was during the second mowing of the back that I suddenly realized how good I felt, and how much I enjoyed recovering my yard from its butchering. God, I really love this house.

Well...back to living for a while until the next feeling sets in, as I know it will.

Summary of a Bad Tournament Outing

2007-08-06T19:57:00.000-07:00

For those who do not know, in match play if your opponent fails to show up, you still have to play 10 holes in an 18 hole match and 5 holes in a 9 hole match. At that point you have won enough holes to win the match even if your opponent shows up late.

What that means is, if I had failed to even go to the golf course, my opponents would have had to play a total of 15 holes. As it turned out, I did show up, and my opponents only had to play 21 holes. That is about as bad as one can play in a match play tournament.

And no, I did not win an umbrella. I finished the tournament as badly as I started.

Maybe next year...

Well, That Was a Lot of Fucking Fun

2007-08-04T15:22:00.000-07:00

Began my first 9 hole match at 8:50 this morning. After tying the first two holes, he won four straight. And just like that, at 10:20, my tournament was over. This guy hit one bogey and five pars, and pretty much made me look foolish.

Tomorrow, I play in the "Umbrella Flight" with all the other losers. It is simply nine holes, stroke play. The low score in each flight wins...you guessed it...an umbrella. Woo hoo.

Disaster at The Dos

2007-08-03T19:49:00.000-07:00

First round...I won the first four holes and we tied the 5th. For the first time in my life, I began a match by getting way out ahead. I never won another hole, as my opponent rattled of 5 pars and a bogey to win six straight. Basically, my putter abandoned me again. During the six hole stretch, I three putted three times and missed two putts inside 2 feet.

In the end, he won 9 of the last 10 holes, and I lost on the 15th hole...down five.

Now, to get a chance at third place, all I have to do is win three 9 hole matches tomorrow, and another 9 hole match Sunday morning. That would get me into the Consolation 18 hole match Sunday afternoon. Damn, I hate uphill climbs.

More tomorrow...

Thursday - Oh Calcutta

2007-08-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

My quiet round by myself at 8:10 this morning was not to be. I was paired up with the official worst golfer in the tournament. This guy (Bob Carey), with a 30 handicap was listed as the highest handicap of all 144 players in the tournament. In short, I had to play with Pratas this morning. To make matters worse, he was from Queens, was 70 years old, and did not stop talking for the entire round. Needless to say, today's practice round began as bad as yesterday's. All hope was fading.

I hit the driver like a real golfer. Bombing 280 yard drives square down the middle of the fairway. I would then proceed to butcher the remaining 100 yards to the green to convert a nice drive into a bogey or double bogey. Then came the 9th hole. Bombed a drive, and only had 245 yards to the green on a par five. I turned to Bob and said, "I may as well hit, I can't get it that far." I then hit my old "wooden" wood straight on a line to the green, directly into the group putting out in front of us. Found my ball on the back of the green with a 25' putt for eagle. Yes, I three putted for par. Took a 46 to the back nine.

Continued to butcher perfect drives as I worked my way to 6 over with the three hardest holes to play. Finished with three straight pars (damn near birdie on the last two) to shoot a "42 on the back". Final score - 88...but glimmers of hope for the way I finished.

Now to the title of the post...The Calcutta was held tonight. For non-golfers, a Calcutta is where people bid on the competitors in a tournament, auction style, in an attempt to buy the golfer's chances of winning their flight. It is gambling. All of the money bid on the 16 golfers in my flight goes into a pot, and is paid out proportionally to the 4 top finishers. Last year, my second place finish paid out over $800.

Well, I was auctioned off for $270...the second highest amount in my flight. Somebody apparently thinks I have the ability to win this damn thing.

We begin to find out tomorrow at 8:08 a.m. A perfect tee time as far as I am concerned. More tomorrow...

Wednesday Practice Round

2007-08-01T17:46:00.000-07:00

Well hell...I have no confidence now. I shot a 92 today with only three pars. I play again tomorrow at 8:10 by myself. I will take the opportunity to concentrate and focus on what needs to be done.

More tomorrow...

How Easily We Get Spoiled

2007-08-01T07:43:00.000-07:00

Made it to Gunnison last night at 6:30 p.m. Of course the first thing we have to do is reconnect to the world through the laptop. Gaaaaa...dial-up connection. Khiva and I both had a birthday waiting for the damn thing to download. To make matters worse, both Windows and Macafee were doing their automatic update thing. I could not get this site to finish loading, so I gave up.

This morning, I am sitting in the parking lot of the Alpine Inn, taking advantage of the wireless connection. I have got the virus updates complete and am currently working through the Windows updates.

Thought I would take advantage of the time and make a quick post.

12:10 today, I get to hit the Dos Rios course with a couple of the Old Fart Gang to get reacquainted with the course. Tomorrow at 8:10 is my official practice round. Tomorrow night I attend the Calcutta player auction. Wonder how much I will go for this year. I drew about $175 last year, and I am prepared to invest up to $200 in myself this year. But, the mafia consortium's up here pool their money and buy everybody, so I will probably end up splitting my purchase price with them, and splitting whatever money I happen to win.

Friday begins the match play. The prize for winning your first 18 hole match? You get to turn around and play another 18 hole match immediately. Lose your first match, and you are faced with having to win three 9 hole matches on Saturday to get back into the consolation bracket.

I hope Friday proves to be a long day.

I'll let you know...Al, Damian was wanting updates, as he invested $20 in me himself. Could you forward this link to him again, as this is probably the only place I will be posting results.

Gunnison - The Annual Pilgramage

2007-07-30T21:03:00.000-07:00

I head out tomorrow morning for Gunnison...my future hometown. Khiva and I have made the trip every one of our 16 years together, except for two that I can recall. She did not miss the trip on those occasions, but I did. I missed in '93 as I was finishing the research for my thesis at A&M. The one I still don't understand is when I missed in '01, as I readied our house on 79th Street for sale. Why again was I busily scrubbing a house while my wife was relaxing in Colorado? Dunno...and I guess it doesn't matter now.

Anyway, I will be competing in the Dos Rios Open for the fourth consecutive year. My three finishes to date have been 2nd, stink it up, and 2nd. Let's hope this is not a continuing trend.

I will try and post the occasional update as I find time.

Tiny Music...It Just Ain't Right

2007-07-23T20:06:00.000-07:00

Ipods, MP3 players,satellite radio. I am dumbstruck by the fact that more music can be squeezed into a credit card sized device than on all of the albums stuffed away in innumerable dusty boxes in my closet. Goobers everywhere walking around with little tiny earphones listening to what I can only assume is amazingly clear sound.

But, it just ain't right, dammit. As an undergrad at A&M in the late 70's, big was better. The guy with the biggest array of receivers, amplifiers, equalizers, tape decks, turntables and tower sized speakers was the go to guy whenever a dorm party broke out. Speaker cable and power cords were stretched from room to room, and windows had to be opened to keep them from blowing out as the massive bass speakers compressed the air in the room. Hell, even headphones resembled something the Apollo astronauts might have worn.

I began to put together my component stereo system in 1978, with the purchase of a Pioneer AM/FM stereo receiver, and a couple of speakers. This receiver was to replace the one I had with the built in 8-track player. Damn thing cost $185, and I had to put it on layaway. When I made that last payment and took that beauty home, I sat and watched the various gauges and meters dance, as I cranked out KLOL-FM 101 out of Houston. I eventually, little by little, year after year, added components, eventually culminating in the purchase of some new fangled device to play CD's. I had run out of jacks on the back of the thing, and to decide what to give up. I finally settled on the equalizer, because, after all, who can live without cassettes and albums?

Believe it or not, I still have every piece of this amazing system...packed in boxes next to the albums. I am going to find a place for it some day. Then I am going to put it all together, crank that puppy up and blast out those huge speakers. With any luck, I will blow those pussy little headphones off the kid across the street.

If Women Acted Like Men - "Hit the Ball, Bitch"

2007-07-16T19:49:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder what the world would be like if women acted like men? I would love to be the bird in the tree watching a group of women playing golf, and acting like men. Betsy would be standing over her shot, thinking about her kids, as she cleaned her new Foot-Joy's of the loose grass and sand. Lucy would finally lose it and yell..."Just hit the ball, bitch."

As a rule, (as I have observed it) women are much more civil to one another than men. At least to each others faces. A couple gets together after having not seen each other in several months. The two ladies immediately begin to praise one another on their respective weight loss and new hair styles. The two men would immediately revert back to the last thing they were giving each other shit about the last time they saw each other. "Hey, fatass, hope you aren't thinking about heading to the shitter when the check comes like you did last time." "No, I might as well pay for dinner, after all I am still paying room and board for your no-good son in prison.", his buddy replies.

For some reason, men cannot seem to say anything nice about or to another man. Probably out of fear of being called gay by the other man. Women, on the other hand, seem to be predisposed to putting on the nice face to other women, until they leave the room. For example, two men driving by a sewage treatment plant. Bob looks at Jim and asks, "Is that you, or did we just hit a dead cow?" Two women driving by the same sewage treatment plant. Jill looks at Betty, and comments on what a cute purse she has. Jill drops Betty off, and immediately gets on the phone to call Rachel and talk about the funk the came out when Betty uncrossed her legs.

Now, some may say men are just hiding deep resentment toward each other by immediately making jokes about one another and not discussing issues. To those people, I say, "Grow a pair, and quit being a woman." Most men know they are with true friends when they are being insulted mercilessly. Nothing makes me more nervous than a friend being nice to me. Makes me wonder if he is sleeping with my wife. No, on second thought, I still smell the sewage treatment plant...he must be sleeping with his own wife.

Impending Doom

2007-07-12T20:32:00.000-07:00

Ever get that feeling that your next drive home will be your last? That your job will be gone tomorrow? That the next 9-11 is looming on the horizon? I get in these funky places every now and then, and I am currently buried deep in one.

I am never able to explain what leads me there, and as yet, nothing has ever come from one of these feelings. Thank God. The story this week of the retired Air Force colonel being stabbed to death while unloading the SUV in his garage would be an example of a feared impending doom. Sounds crazy, but damned if things like that do happen every now and then.

I recall a couple of years ago, driving back from Levelland at night, after a public meeting. I was suddenly struck with the feeling that, before I could make it home, a car would come careening across the median and run head on into me. I was nearly unable to complete the trip home. The feeling was that strong. (Cosmic, Tammy, I know...I know).

I have found it very hard to concentrate at work this week because of one of these doomsday feelings. Retirement even entered my mind on two separate occasions today. Gotta get out of the funk, and back to reality. As Morgan Freeman said in Shawshank Redemption..."Get busy living, or get busy dying."

I know, as in my golfing slumps, this too shall pass. Just hope if I do die in a fiery crash, it is on the way to work, and not on the way home.

At any rate, I should be back to my usual cheery disposition before you know it. In the meantime, stay away from me during lightning storms.

Why I Hate Golf - The Final Word

2007-07-08T20:16:00.000-07:00

Have you ever "whiffed" a chip shot? For the non-golfers, to whiff is to completely miss the ball when you have every intention of hitting it. It usually happens with the Driver as you are rarin' back to knock that sumbitch into the next county. Then you completely miss the ball and nearly break your back in the process. To add insult to injury, the whiff counts as a stroke, as if you had actually hit the ball. This morning, I whiffed a chip shot. On the first hole, less than 15 feet from the green. I was going to hit a nice gentle chip to the pin, one putt for par and win the hole. Instead, the club jammed into the ground directly behind the ball and came to a complete stop. The ball never moved. My hopes for par rapidly degenerated into a triple bogey.

Today's match was a four way match with the other members of my flight who had one win and one loss. You basically play a match against the other three. For each person you beat on a hole you get 1 point. For each person you tie, you get 1/2 point. After 18 holes, he with the most points essentially wins third place in the flight.

I should have walked away with this damn thing. I don't hit the ball far, but I was outdriving the other three by 50 yards a hole. I was hitting good irons and (after the initial whiff) chipping very well. Unfortunately, I might as well have been putting with the club up my ass. I couldn't have done any worse. I missed 2 and 3 foot putts all day. I even managed to three putt from 4' on the 11th hole. There I was, one point away from going into the lead, with a 4 footer for par, and a win. The putter exploded in my hands and left me a six footer coming back. Missed that one too. Instead of a win, I lost to all three guys and got zero points on the hole.

As bad as all that sounds, I was still only 1 1/2 points out of the lead as we teed up on number 15. The first hole of the infamous "Go to Hell Corner" Plunked my drive into the lake, and it was all over but the crying. Got beat by a couple of fat, old, bald headed men.

In the distance, I swear I heard a 24 year old laughing his ass off.

Why I Hate Golf - Part II

2007-07-07T19:25:00.000-07:00

Day two of the Club Championship began at 9:37 a.m. on a muggy July day. Damned if I wasn't sweating my ass off before the second hole. Part of that was because I missed a three foot putt for par on the first hole that would have put me one up on the first hole.

Missed another three footer to go one down on the second hole. Where the hell is my putter? I know I put it in my bag. I was seriously thinking about calling Pratas and asking him to bring out his hickory shaft putter, the ol' Billy Barue!

Traded holes back and forth for a spell. I was playing well, but so was the 24 year old kid I was playing against. We came to the eighth, even. He had hacked his way to a double bogey. There I sat on the green, 6 feet from the hole, putting for par. Just lag it close and go one up. It was a sure thing in my mind and his.

Evil putter took over and ran the ball eight feet past the hole. I missed the follow up back, and took a double bogey myself. Damn, we were still even.

Off to number nine, where I blister a drive straight down the fairway to 145 yards from the green. He hits his tee shot into the trees on the left. Great...sweet redemption. God is allowing me to make up for the previous screw up on eight. I pull my next shot left of the green onto a hillside lie. Dammit! He hits a great shot out of the trees to the same place. He hits a crappy short shot onto the green, leaving himself 20-25 feet for par. I hit a nice chip shot to 10 feet. Then evil putter promptly three putts again, to lose the hole. Evil putter takes a flight to the first tee from the ninth green.

We go to the back nine with me down one. Luckily for me, we have to wait on the group in front of us, and I am able to calm down and collect myself. He tees off into the trees on the left, and is dead. Ha ha. Just hit it down the middle and get back even. Breathe deep...find your center...concentrate...smack...hit the ball a whopping 50 yards, barely past the Ladies tees. Fuck!!!!!

Hit it again...50 more yards in the deep rough. Only 225 yards to go to get to the green. I am stomping up to my ball, driver in hand and murder on my mind. Thank God, the group in front of us was still on the green, giving me time to re-think my strategy. My opponent had chipped out of the trees to 150 yards from the green. He lying 2, me 3. Wait Batman...don't make a foolish attempt for the green from 225 yards. Back off and lay up. Let the kid fuck up. I hit a nice hybrid to 15 yards in front of the green. He shanks his into the sand trap. OK...that's step one. Now convert the safe shot. I hit a perfect chip to within one foot of the hole and make bogey. He manages double bogey out of the sand, and we are even again. I can almost hear his 25 year old psyche cracking. Got him...now just play solid from here in and win.

This kid has either been even with me, or one up all day. It is his first Club Championship, and my ninth. I am a sweaty old geezer trying to stay up with this young flat belly. I can feel his young enthusiasm as the holes fall aside, one by one.

On the 14th hole, I take the lead for the first time with a miraculous shot out of the trees, onto the green...10' feet from the hole. I win the 15th with a solid 10' par putt. On 16, I close him out with another solid par. He has lead all day, and I win three straight holes to take the match, with time running out.

You may ask..."Batman, given everything you have written, why have you titled this piece 'Why I Hate Golf-Part II'?" The look on that kids face, as his hopes were dashed by a 48 year old hacker, were hard to handle. He was strutting along, confident in his ability to outlast a bald headed, fat man, and suddenly, his world turned upside down. I had been where he was many times, as grizzled old veterans cranked out miraculous shots down the stretch to beat me. As the latest in a long line of "grizzled old veterans", it really made me feel bad for the kid.

You know what? Fuck him!!! I won!!!

Why I Hate Golf

2007-07-06T19:40:00.000-07:00

Today was the first round of the Club Championship. Imagine my surprise when I found myself in the sixth of seven flights. God, has my game gotten so bad that I am nearly in the bottom flight again? It's all good though, because I should be able to compete.

I show up at the golf course, finding my center. Live in the moment...accept the mental challenge...play one shot at a time...you can par any hole. After two holes, I am looking at the other players in my flight and thinking, "I can beat any of these guys, any day. They really suck." This really should be the year for me to win my flight. Why then am I down two after two holes? To his credit, my opponent had managed to make two pretty spectacular pars to win the first two holes. I par the third, and somehow manage to win the fourth with a double bogey.

Ah, good, I am back to even. Then the wheels really come of. A triple bogey, followed by another double bogey puts me back down 2. I will never get any closer. He wins the eighth to go up 3. I then proceed to alternate pars with double bogeys to oscillate back and forth between 2 down and 3 down, until sadly I am down three with three holes to play.

Defeat creeps in, but I say, "Bullshit, I'm not beat yet. Just win the next three holes and force a playoff!" I win the next one. Down two with two to go. The next to the last hole is a par 3, and I have to hit to the green to assure a par, and hope he screws up. I DO NOT hit to the fucking green. I hit to the fucking sand trap. He tees off and pulls it horribly left. Hope springs back in.

I get to my ball, and discover it in an impossible to hit location in the sand trap. Hope fades. He dinks his second shot into the sand trap. Hope leaps forward. I take a mighty swing at my hopelessly buried ball, and barely get out of the trap. Hope fades. I hit a perfect pitch to within three feet of the pin. Hope arises again. He hits out of the sand trap to 20' from the hole. We are both lying three. He with 20' to putt, me with 3'. If I make mine and he misses his, I win the hole and we go the last hole with me only down one. Hope and elation are battling each other for the front seat in my mind.

Then he putts...straight into the fucking hole from 20' to win the match. Abandon hope.

And that, my friends, is why I hate golf..

The Fourth Up North

2007-07-05T19:38:00.000-07:00

Another highly successful 4th of July party at the BatCave last night. Good attendance (60 or 70 folks, counting kids). I started prep work on Saturday, continued on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday morning, I drew up my "list" of things to complete, to make sure I could get it all done.

Had it all worked out, even offered to do a few of the indoor activities to lessen the burden on the spousal unit. Got the yard cleaned up, cleaned off all four porches, washed the new windows, went to Sam's. Went to United. Went to the Strip. Painted the gates and armoire. Prepared the veggie trays. Cooked the beans. Managed to get everything done on time except slice the tomatoes and onions for the burgers. Two relatively minor items.

As the burgers went on the grill, it came to my attention the spousal unit had decided to go on strike. Now, in fairness, she had cleaned the house. But, that was to be it. She apparently decided she was going to enjoy the evening, and nothing else.

Luckily for me, I have some good friends. Don stepped in to cook the burgers, so I could get the table ready and the veggies sliced. The Pillers' offered to help, and Don's wife Cray also jumped in and essentially evicted me from my own kitchen to get things ready. I think Lucy also pitched in, but in my confused dashing about, I am unsure. Many thanks to all of them just the same.

Many thanks also to Cousin Eddie for the very popular grilled corn. As always, Kristi's jalapeno poppers were a hit.

Bottom line, I was thrown a curve yesterday, but this party will go on. Dammit, I enjoy it, and I have been told by many that they not only enjoy it, but look forward to it every year. So rest easy Lubbock. As long as Bat lives on Manioca Rd. and the Langston's live across the street, the Fourth Up North will continue.

The most fulfilling moment of the evening came around 10:00 p.m., when one of the Pantoya rugrats came to me and asked, "Batman, when are you gonna start the fireworks?" Unknown to him, I have nothing to do with the fireworks, as they are provided by the Country Club across the road. I told him, "Let me make a phone call and see if I can get them going." About 90 seconds later the show began. That kid will think for years that his "Uncle Batman" puts on the greatest fireworks show in town.

In the end, that is all that matters.

"Post" Traumatic Stress Disorder

2007-07-05T19:27:00.000-07:00

OK. I don't post very often. I will be the first to admit that. Generally, it is because I seldom feel I have anything to say that anyone would give a shit about. On top of that, after coming home from work, working on getting the undone done, doing the nightly chores and just basically running out of gas, I just don't have a lot of inspiration left. I read others' posts, enjoy them, and occasionally respond to them. Just don't fell like expressing most nights.

Doesn't make me a bad person.

Hopefully, on those rare occasions when I do post something, it is relatively meaningful and/or humorous. Bear with me...but trust me, the last thing I need is another responsibility. When something hits me, I will write about it.

Bang the Drum Slowly

2007-06-21T20:46:00.000-07:00

Gotta give tribute to all of the great drummers down through the history of rock and roll. Time goes by, but their basic function never changes. Keep the beat. However, some have moved the drums into a contributing instrument. Yet, they are overlooked, or never truly listened to.

Many times, I find myself physically tuning out the guitars, singing and keyboards and focusing on the drum track. I encourage you to try it with your favorite bands, and get a new respect for what these amazing people do.

Ron Bushy - Iron Butterfly
Nick Mason - Pink Floyd
John Bonham - Led Zeppelin
Danny Carey - Tool

Play these albums and tune out everything but the drums. Listen hard, but you will be amazed and have a new respect for what these guys contribute.

Juneteenth

2007-06-19T19:47:00.000-07:00

How was your day off? What, you don't get a day off on Juneteenth? Us lucky folk at TxDOT do. It is one of those weird holidays that were bestowed upon us in the 70's in lieu of a pay raise.

I spent the day in Andrews, battling the evil hordes of Odessa TxDOT-ers in the annual Lubbock-Odessa Golf Challenge. All I can say is the folks in Odessa play golf too much and work too little, as they bested us for the third straight year. Didn't matter, as I got to play golf at Chad Campbell's home course and had a great day.

Meanwhile, back at the home front, the chore list is a little smaller. Got the armoire painted, and planted 105 new Vinca plants in the dusty dry dirt 'neath the towering elms near the driveway. Just 40 more to go, and then vigilant watering. Thinking about attacking those unpainted adobe walls this weekend.

Getting the undone done a little at a time.

Getting the Undone Done

2007-06-13T19:55:00.000-07:00

I have been in the house on Manioca Road for nearly six years now. You would think I would have the place pretty much finished at this point. After all, it feels like all I have done is work on it constantly. I added on a master bed and bath, put in a new front door and back door, built the flagstone patio, insulated the attic, built the dog runs, built the garden, renovated the garage and painted the damn place to name a few.

Last weekend, the wife mentioned that the elm trees needed to be trimmed up. I told her I was planning to get to that. To which she replied..."the only way you are going to get to that is by picking up the phone, and calling someone who knows what they are doing." Of course my first feeling was one of indignation. What the hell does she mean by that? I can trim fucking trees for crying out loud. A few more glances up into the upper branches of these massive trees, and I had to admit she was right. Well, I can sure as hell cut down that ailing Arizona Cypress by myself. Khiva's response? "How about you finish up some of these other things you have been meaning to get to before you start on something else?"

Again...massive indignation. I have worked my ass off on this house for six years. What could possibly be started, but not finished. I challenged her..."Like what?", I sneered. Bad move...bad move, indeed. Women have much better memories than men. Never challenge them with something, unless you absolutely know the answer.

The short list includes:

1. Fix the brick wall that has been on the ground since we moved in.
2. Paint the adobe walls you were supposed to paint two years ago when you painted the house.
3. Work on the landscaping in the front yard we have been talking about for three years
4. Finish the armoire.
5. Strip and re-finish the Adirondack chairs.
6. Paint the gates.
7. Pour the concrete behind the garden you said needed to wait til the winter (this was said last summer...Oooops).

Anyway, I told Khiva I would begin to attack these things, and ,By God, get 'em done. So far, I have finished the Adirondack chairs, and started on the landscaping. Oh yeah...I almost forgot...I also made that phone call to get someone who knows what they are doing to take care of the trees. They came out today and did one hell of a job. They even managed to get that Cypress down without my help. On the flip side, I put in a bunch of yard lights without their damn help.

The View From the Tundra

2007-06-03T20:20:00.000-07:00

What the hell got into me? What am I doing driving a brand new 2007 Toyota Tundra? I have always been the grumpy, somewhat odd, bald headed guy in the old clunker. I have not bought a new car for myself since the 1984 Pontiac Fiero. That might explain my hesitance to try another new car. While I thought that was the hottest chick magnet to ever roll out of Detroit when I bought it, it turned out to be a sheep in wolf's clothing. Traded that one for a 1973 Mercedes 450 SL. Great car till it broke. Then my bank account followed suit.

Since then, I have driven the following:

1985 Nissan pick up - 208,000 miles when sold
1991 Nissan Maxima - 250,000 miles when sold
1992 Nissan Maxima - 145,000 miles when wrecked
2000 Nissan Maxima - 113,000 miles when sacrificed to the God's of Consumption.

I had gotten used to driving cars I didn't have to care about. Oddly, the less I cared about them, the better care they took of me.

Now I find myself in this great truck, and I am having a hard time getting comfortable with the idea. I think it is a combination of buyers remorse and the strange feeling that yet another part of me has sold out in my quest to join the Clone Army. Can't get ahead at work if you don't drive the right vehicle. I know this is crazy, but it still nags at my core.

Well, I better get comfortable with the idea, because Toyota Finance Corp says I have about 60 months to enjoy it. Who knows...maybe 10 years from now I will be adding this entry to the previous list...

2007 Toyota Tundra - 249,000 miles when owner was incinerated in a fiery crash.

Memorial Day

2007-05-27T19:42:00.000-07:00

Aaahhh, Memorial Day weekend. Three day holiday that comes around every year in the last week of May. Get the pool set up, mow the yard, play golf. But, wait...why do I get three days off? I did nothing unusual or spectacular to deserve it. But somebody did.

Thank you, from the depths of my soul, brave soldiers. You suffered through the mud, the bitter cold, the oppressive heat and the fear of death to give me the freedom to enjoy golf, and mowing and just screwing off for three days. I can't even imagine the terror coursing through your veins, as you hunkered down in your foxhole, or stormed the beaches. But, you did it. You did it for your God, your family and your fellow countrymen. You did it without question, because you believed in the goodness that is this country. And I say thank you.

Mere words cannot express the gratitude we all owe these fine men. A heartfelt thanks is all I can offer. Consider it offered...and rest easy.

The Reality of Oy

2007-05-25T19:09:00.000-07:00

I have been reading the Dark Tower series by Stephen King for 15 plus years. I am amazed as to how he can drag me off into a wonderful place, where a Clint Eastwood-esque character trods relentlessly towards his destiny, bodies of friends and enemies strewn about in his endless quest. The Gunslinger, Roland, plods on through endless landscapes in unending worlds towards his goal, the Dark Tower. One by one, foes and friends fall, and I read on...disturbed, but not surprised, nor even moved.

Then there was Oy.

If anyone out there in computin' land is reading this, and is reading the series, but not into the final book, please leave now, as I will be giving away an element of the story that you should experience on your own.

To the best of my recollection, Oy came into the Ka-tet in Book 3 (The Wastelands). He is what is known in mid-world as a Billybumbler. King's desciption of him is, from the beginning, clearly that of a Pembroke Welsh Corgi. It is probably because of my own close relationship with Corgi's, that I make this connection. Then, I find out in the final book, that King actually has Corgi's of his own. There is no question in my mind that Sai King is writing from his own experiences with his Corgi.

Oy acquired his unusal name through his rudimentary understanding of the spoken word. His first master is the boy Jake Chambers, referred to by the Gunslinger as "The Boy". Oy can only enunciate the word 'Oy, when referring to Jake, and is therefore so named.

Oy is an integral part of the Ka-tet, or family of Tower seekers. There is the Gunslinger, Roland of Gilead. He is joined twice by Jake Chambers, then by the drug addict Eddie Dean of New York, and by Susannah, the brave black woman, who lost her legs to a subway train in her version of New York.

From Book 2 to Book 7, these travellers braved horrible odds and unimaginable beings in their quest for the Dark Tower.` Halfway through the final volume, it became terribly clear to me what must unfold. In Book 1, the Gunslinger began his quest alone...and Ka dictated he must finish it alone. One by one, Eddie, Jake and Susannah exited the tale. In the end, only Oy and the Gunslinger remained. I held out hope that the little Billybumbler would see the tale completed. My hopes were futile.

Oy died today, and I cried. Me, the grumpy, heartless, 48 year old engineer, who could give a damn about most things in this world. Oy died, and I put the tale aside, and cried. I will finish it another time. It hit too close to home. It reminded me of Trifle, the first of our Cogis to go. It reminded me of Tom, the current Corgi, who so closely resembles who I imagine Oy to be. But mostly, it made me think of Katie, our first Corgi, and the one who has become closest to me. She is 12 years old, and I know her time is being marked. (Thank God, she doesn't know it or show it).

Travel well Oy..we were well met. I will see you in the clearing at the end of the path.