Getting Dumped On

It had been about 20 years since I last attended a college football game in person. There was a time, back during my high school and college years that my father had contacts with season tickets to Baylor and A&M games and we attended at least one game a season for several years. I was a UT fan in the late 1960s, when they had that wonderful combo of Wooster, Bertleson and Phillips. Later on, when I got to college, I switched to rooting for Baylor, since that was the closest kindred school to Mary Hardin-Baylor.

But I always had a soft spot for UT and would root for them, except when they were up against Baylor. And I still have a soft spot for UT, so when I was offered a chance to attend the UT/A&M Thanksgiving game this year I grabbed it.

I had forgotten how much different it is to sit in the stands, as opposed to watching on TV. (Though now you can watch it on TV at the same time, what with the huge video display that offers instant replays. And ads. Those I could do without.)

We were only a few rows up from the UT bench, in a stadium that was almost entirely orange.

The enthusiasm of the fans was worth the trip. From the time the players entered the stadium in a cloud of smoke, the cheering squads, the band and the fans were in constant motion and in loud support of the team. The Aggies made the scoreboard first, but the Horns came back with their own touchdown and led 7-6 for quite awhile. The mood of all concerned was fairly upbeat at the half.

The Aggie Band was in perfect form, as usual.

The UT Band is always the best part of the game for me.

And the crowd went wild. Particularly when a touchdown on UT's part was called back for some infraction that I did not understand and that really ticked off the die-hard Horns around me. From then on, the game went the wrong way for the Horns. With long times of possession by the Aggies, and during which they scored the winning touchdown, time just ran out for the Horns. But they kept trying and the fans kept their enthusiasm up to the end. Sadly, in the last 25 seconds of the game, the Horns' quarterback was injured and was transported off the field and to the hospital for evaluation. A troubling end to a difficult game.

I can only hope that my attending the game was not a jinx. Back during those days when our family travelled regularly to Waco or Bryan for games, it seemed like I always supported the wrong team. (Not that fans of Baylor weren't used to losing during those days, but it was still a disappointment to never see them win.) I even stopped watching UT in bowl games on TV, because they only won when I didn't watch them. I had hoped that the jinx was broken last year when I took a chance and watched the Horns win the National Championship. Let's hope today was a fluke, because I rediscovered today how much more enjoyable a game is in person and I don't intend to wait another 20 years to see another one.

Last, but not least, the perfect end to a day when your team loses. I decided to stop at a Sonic on the way out of town and pick up a Route 44 diet Coke with lime. (Love the things.) I wait for 10 minutes, pay my $2, and head out MLK toward Webberville. After I manuvered the traffic signal, I lifted my glass for the first swallow and discovered that the car hop had somehow managed to puncture the glass as she handed it to me and it had been leaking for several minutes. I had diet Coke pouring into my lap, the cup holder in my console was full, and I was in traffic that gave no opportunity to pull over and deal with the gushing, sticky fluid. Forty-four ounces of the stuff. I used my jacket to attempt to sop up the mess, but since the jacket is somewhat waterproofed that didn't help too much. I finally hit a stop light and dumped what was left out the window. Never even got to taste it.

I still had a good time today.

LSW

Just Plain Nauseating

These two heathen cats spent all afternoon sleeping on the back of the big chair, purring like crazy. I had intended to post a video clip, but haven't yet figured out how to get that accomplished. Suffice it to say that they've been purely sickening.

Nothing is safe anymore. They were up at 4:30 this morning racing up and down the stairs and throwing themselves at the bedroom door. A couple of nights ago they managed to turn over a dollhouse kit that was leaning against the guest bed and it sounded like someone had broken in.

On the other hand, they will crawl in my lap, reach up and pat my face and start that insane purring. When I was little and would get to giggling, Mother would tell me that my giggle box had turned over. These cats regularly turn their purr box over. They erupt with rattly purrs that you can hear clear across the room.

This is what I have to live with. You should have pity on me.

LSW

TA DA!

YeeHaw!

Twenty pounds gone.

Five to go.

LSW

Say It Isn't So!

A couple of posts back I mentioned that I have definite plans to enjoy a Mexican pig out after I drop a few more pounds. My plans involved La Cabana restaurant outside Smithville.

Saturday's Bastrop Advertiser carried a story that has me in shock. Seems a few days ago, along about midnight and shortly before the last of the employees were to leave for home, an electrical fire broke out in the ceiling. The fire department was quickly summoned. The fire was put out, but in doing so it was necessary to pull the ceiling down in the newer, non-smoking section of the restaurant. While the adjoining convenience store and gas station are still in operation, it was necessary for them to temporarily close the restaurant until repairs are made.

Holy taco cravings, Batman! While I'm relieved that the situation is temporary and that the main restaurant was basically undamaged, just knowing that their larrupin' salsa is out of reach has me pining for the stuff. I sure hope that the repair work is done post haste and within 6 pounds of today. I'm in pain here.

{sob}

LSW

Words to the Wise

A few years ago I bought one of those blank books you see in bookstores. I've never been one for journaling, until blogs came along, so instead of using it for its probable intended purpose, I have used it as a mini scrapbook. It contains interesting cartoons, obituaries of people I know but are not related to (the related ones would be filed in my family notebooks), articles clipped from newspapers, and a miscellany of quotes that could be used to fill in small gaps in family newsletters.

So, here is a sampling of my collection, for thought or a smile:

Every year is a souvenir that slowly fades away - Billy Joel

Your friends will know you better in the first minute than your acquaintances will know you in a thousand years.

Never confuse having a career with having a life.

Kids are like boomerangs -- the harder you throw 'em, the harder they hit the house when they return.

There's no need for a piece of sculpture in a home that has a cat. - Wesley Bates

Anybody who doesn't know what soap tastes like never washed a dog. - Franklin P. Jones

A skeptic is a person who when he sees the handwriting on the wall claims it's a forgery. - Morris Bender

It's all right to sit on your pity pot every now and again. Just be sure to flush when you're finished.

Every murderer is probably somebody's old friend. - Agatha Christie

If only we'd stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time. - Edith Wharton

I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. - Edgar Allen Poe

It is the friends you can call at 4:00 a.m. that matter. - Marlene Dietrich

Any idiot can face a crisis - it's this day to day living that wears you out. - Anton Chekov

If you have an unpleasant neighbor, chances are he does too.

One of the greatest tragedies of life is the murder of a beautiful theory by a gang of brutal facts. - Benjamin Franklin

A good man will take care of his horses and dogs, not only while they are young, but also when they are old and past service. - Plutarch

Happiness is the art of making a bouquet of those flowers within reach. - Goddard

The wise man must remember that while he is a descendant of the past, he is a parent of the future. - Herbert Spencer

Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened. - Anatole France

And finally,

A closed mouth gathers no foot.

LSW

Out of Left Field

Sometimes you run across the oddest things.

This morning I was rearranging books in my office and came across a little volume I purchased on EBAY awhile back and had never had a chance to look at closely. It contained an essay on the efforts of the author back in the 1940s thru 1960s to have a marker erected at the grave of John Wesley Hardin, over the strenuous objections of some of the local folks in El Paso. I was idly flipping through the pages when I saw a reference to my old home town Smiley.

Upon closer reading, I discovered a surname that I was well familiar with. The referenced man's wife was the grand-daughter of John Wesley Hardin and had provided the author with quite a bit of information and support in his quest. The author had visited them at their home in Smiley. An old-timer I knew in Smiley when we lived there had the same unusual surname. He happened to be the grandfather of one of my close elementary classmates. My friend's grandfather had a different first name, but I knew there had to be a family connection and being the clever little genealogist I am, I set to work to find the connection.

In short order I discovered that my friend's grandfather was the son of the author's source and that, therefore, he was the great-grandson of John Wesley Hardin. Which made my friend the great-great-great granddaughter of John Wesley Hardin.

And I never knew a thing about this. I wonder if, given the notoriety of John Wesley Hardin, the family deliberately suppressed the information and possibly my friend had no idea at the time. Or, if the matter was discussed and I had no idea who John Wesley Hardin was and dismissed the information as uninteresting. Many years later, with a wider knowledge of Texas history, I was amazed to put all this together.

What a plum of a black sheep any genealogist in that family can claim! I can at least brag I once spent the night at the home of the outlaw's great-great-great granddaughter.

Cool.

LSW

Gobble, Gobble

Tomorrow is the annual company Thanksgiving pot-luck. I was trying to think up something I could take that would be generally acceptable as Thanksgiving fare and that I could eat. (Keeping in mind that the company springs for the turkey.) I gave up. I'm making homemade cranberry sauce that I can't have.

Thanksgiving this year is going to be a challenge.

No dressing.
No broccoli-rice casserole.
No sweet potato casserole.
No mashed potatoes.
No cranberry sauce.
No pumpkin or pecan or apple pie.
No hot rolls.
No pralines or peanut brittle (Hodge family get-together staples).

I can have turkey and salad and maybe a vegetable if there is no canned soup or onion rings or bread crumbs involved. Tomorrow I may not have anything more than turkey, because I know the kinds of things that show up at the company pot-lucks.

Well, pooh. I do love dressing and broccoli-rice casserole and pumpkin pie and hot rolls. But I am not interested in jeopardizing the diet. Just yet, anyway. I'm less than 10 pounds from my initial goal and I WILL MAKE IT or know the reason why.

So instead of anticipating the Thanksgiving glutton-fest, I am focusing on my own target. When I hit that goal that's just 7 pounds away, I am going off the diet for a day. I am going to my favorite Mexican food restaurant and eat my favorite enchilada plate and chips and salsa until I hurt. I'm drooling just thinking about it.

And the next day I'll consider what the next goal is. It's been tough some days, but it's sure nice to be a size and a half smaller than I was two months ago. I can live without one round of turkey and dressing.

LSW

Scenes from St. Thomas

Our first view of St. Thomas was pretty impressive. The weather was perfect. The sky and water were deep, clear blue. This was the scene coming into the harbor.


Our itinerary in St. Thomas involved a scenic bus ride into the hills, where we were offered several opportunities to take pictures. At one stop we had a beautiful view of our temporary home away from home.

At another stop, we had a terrific view of Magen's Bay Beach, which is on the list of most beautiful beaches in the world. It was rumored that Sir Frances Drake harbored his ships here. Once privately owned, the beach was given to the citizens of St. Thomas for their enjoyment.

We stopped for a tour of Blackbeard's Castle, which has very little to do with Blackbeard. We roamed through several historic buildings and museums. At the end of the tour, we were almost in the main shopping district, where we spent the next couple of hours exploring. To get to the shopping district, we descended a series of steps which took us through a small municipal park. The park had been claimed by a hen with her chicks and by these two old guys sprawled on a bench.They were not at all impressed with their visitors. They invited us to move along, which we did.

LSW

Island of Blue Dolphins

There seem to be some folks out there that don't believe I actually got up close and personal with dolphins. So here's the proof. Yours truly with Megara.



To answer the most common question I've heard so far: they feel like smooth leather. Not at all fishy. And yes, they are mammals. But no fur. They breath through a blow hole in the top of their head. The trainer got Megara to blow a big puff of air through the blow hole to demonstrate. Their ears are just behind their eyes and we were cautioned not to touch them there.

To begin with, we were taught how to cup our hands so that Megara could position herself in such a way that we could lift her out of the water for kisses. Afterwards, we held our hands palm down, parallel to the water and she rose up on her tail, let us hold her flippers and then she wriggled back and forth to dance with each of us.

I have to admit that I was a bit anxious, since I don't do well with fishy or crawly things. But interacting with Megara was somewhat akin to frolicking with a big, friendly dog. Some of the participants were allowed to toss her treats to her. That was when she would display a huge expanse of sharp teeth. We remarked on scraped places on her back and were told that it was marks received from the other dolphins as they play. At first we were taken aback, but he pointed out that dogs and cats bite when they play, and so do dolphins. It just shows up more with their smooth, velvety skin.

It was truly an experience of a lifetime.

LSW

Poor, Poor, Pitiful Me

So they gave me a shot and when I woke up I had a horrible bandage on my leg and a shaved butt. Where is the complaint department?

Mojo

Post Surgical Report

Haven't gotten around to processing the trip photos yet, but I plan to get started this weekend. Things have been just a bit tense this week, as Mojo had surgery yesterday to correct some problems with his back leg. The report last night was good and he should get to come home tonight. The doctor said he has a bandage that is as big as he is, so I'm sure I will be waiting on the little guy paw and foot for awhile. (Like I wasn't already.)

Turns out that everything that could have been wrong with his leg was. He had torn a ligament that runs alongside his knee, the cartilage in his knee had shattered, and the groove that holds the kneecap in place was so shallow that the kneecap was sliding out of place. He has had an artificial ligament created, the pieces of cartilage removed and the groove deepened. No wonder the poor little guy was so touchy lately.

Mom was on pins and needles yesterday waiting for the doctor's call. She assured me that he was going to be sleeping through the night and loaded with pain meds and that someone would be there to keep an eye on him. I guess I'm improving a little, since I didn't insist they set up a cot in sick bay so I could stay with him. (The last time that Bebop had surgery, I was allowed special permission to sit in Recovery and hold him while he came out from anesthesia. When you spend the kind of money I do with a vet clinic, you can push your weight around a little.)

So I'm glad it's over and I'm looking forward to him being able to run around like a little boy should be able to do, without carrying one leg up all the time. I'm told it will be about 6 weeks before he's fully recovered, but the alternative was to never walk right again. I can live with 6 weeks of slavery. I'm sure he will take advantage of the situation.

In other news, the kittens grew about double while I was gone. They are at that lean and lanky pre-teen stage. And full of mischief. They've learned ways to get up to high places and prowl among the things I would rather they left alone. In other words, we are well on our way to having full blown cats. May God have mercy on our souls.

LSW

Cloud Illusions

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
Ive looked at clouds that way

Coming back to Austin from the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, we were warned of potential turbulence from thunderstorms. Above the storm, the clouds were fluffy and white, billowing up like whipped cream or maybe the 7 minute frosting that was so popular with my grandmothers' generation. Yes it was bumpy, but so very beautiful. And the words of Joni Mitchell sprang immediately to mind.

LSW

Brace Yourselves

I'm back and I have pictures.

The next few days will probably be a recap of my activities during the last few days.

But for now, just stopping by long enough to let you know I'm back safe and sound.

And tired.

But happy.

LSW

Cool Stuff

So yesterday I kissed a dolphin. Really. Me, the non-swimmer, who doesn't like fishy things in the ocean swimming between my feet. I actually got down in a pool with 4 dolphins, got kissed, gave a kiss, and danced with Megara. The only scary part was when they told us to get out in the pool and swim with them. I mentioned I don't swim. They said that's why they put life-preservers on us and to get out there. So I cautiously paddled my way over and hung on to Lana's life preserver to stabilize myself.

It was worth it. I also got to pet Megara and rub her tummy, which is somewhat akin to rubbing Coco's tummy. She had the same "gone" look on her face. Quite an experience.

Also, we got a half-hour to play on the pristine beach alongside the dolphin enterprise. The waves were very forceful and we got our noses rubbed in the sand several times. It turned us into little kids - giggling and running back for more. When we got back to our cabin later than night and peeled off our swimsuits, we had about a quart of sticky sand inside. This morning I was still scraping sand out of my ears.

The ride over to the island of Anguilla took about an hour by water taxi. It was a rough ride and we made the mistake on the way over of sitting in the outside portion. Exactly the perfect place to get completely soaked before we even got to the island. Anguilla is in the British West Indies and St. Maarten, where we started out belongs jointly to the Dutch and French. So I was in two foreign countries yesterday. Great experience, all the way around. We had a great day and didn't do one speck of shopping, which seems to be the primary motivation of a lot of people we are traveling with.

We are exhausted, but relaxed. Ready to get back home and kiss babies, but sorry to see the end of the trip.

But they are already talking about the next one. And maybe to Alaska....

LSW

A Pirate's Life for Me

So I went all the way to Saint Thomas, Virgin Islands, to see:

1) K Mart
2) McDonald's
3) Home Depot
4) Subway

Ok, at first it seemed like that was it. But then I saw:

1) Iguanas resting on a park bench
2) Mountains of bougainvilleas in every imaginable color
3) The view of an amazing harbor from a tramway
4) Pirate statues at Blackbeard's Castle (which, by the way, he never lived in)

It's a gorgeous place. It's a hot place. About 95 degrees and 95% humidity. It was getting to this ole Texas gal. Had to find a place in the shade and a cool drink.

The folks were nice. The scenery was unbelievable. Wouldn't have missed it for anything.

LSW

Caribbean Carousing, Day 1

After a thoroughly exhausting Sunday--getting up at 4:15 am to catch a 6:00 am flight and then running nonstop until about 5PM--we finally found ourselves aboard the Mariner of the Seas. It is awe-inspiring when you catch your first glimpse. It's the second largest passenger ship in the world and it's the size of a small country.

Our first stop had to be cancelled because the seas were too rough for the transfer boats to get us to the island. So we've spent the day exploring our new residence. We've had our first spa experience and are nice and relaxed from a wonderful massage. Tonight we play dress up and tomorrow we start our first day with the genealogy folks.

So, all is well in Royal Caribbean land. It is amazing just how quickly you can completely lose track of time and of the day of the week. (Of course, changing time zones about 3 times over the course of two days helps in that regard.) To help us stay in touch with reality, the RC folks place a new rug in the elevators with the day of the week emblazoned thereon. Sort of like the day of the week panties that were so popular back when.

Gotta run for now. We have a conference reception, followed by the Captain's Gala, followed by the Captain's Reception to prepare for. Catch you tomorrow. Tuesday, I think...

LSW

Lost

Tomorrow is the start of my fall vacation. And yes, it involves genealogy. But there will be no libraries or dusty archives or damp courthouses this time around. Probably no cemeteries, but I'm not guaranteeing that one.

About 200 of the genealogical persuasion are embarking on a 7-day Eastern Caribbean cruise. We are congregating in Florida and will set sail about 5PM on Sunday afternoon. We will visit Cococay in the Bahamas, Charlotte Amalie on Saint Thomas, and Phillipsburg on Saint Maartens. When we are not exploring tropical islands, we will be discussing various aspects of genealogical research while at sea on board the Mariner of the Seas.

Up to now I've not really had the desire to visit tropical islands. Given the choice between Hawaii and Banff National Park in Canada, I would head to the mountains. However, I must admit that 3 seasons of Lost have me curious about lush, isolated islands. Hopefully we won't encounter any buried hatches or misplaced polar bears, but I do hope to walk sandy shores and wade in clear blue pools and get to know some new people.

I'm traveling without the laptop this time. We will have some Internet access on board and I will try to post an entry here and there to let you know that we're not really lost. But for the most part we plan to disconnect for a week and just enjoy our surroundings.

Sure hope there's a Jack or Sawyer on board. Life would be so much more interesting if there were.

LSW

Just Call Me a Flapper

The diet is working. I'm down 14 pounds to date. While I don't feel much different, it is hard to miss the fact that my slacks are all beginning to bag and flap in the breeze. These are slacks that just two months ago were beginning to feel a bit snug for comfort. I've moved down one size and teetering at the small edge of that one. It won't be long before I have to go shopping again. (Woe is me!)

I'm preparing for a weeklong cruise in the very near future and it's been a challenge to put together the trip wardrobe. Clothes I bought last month expressly for the cruise are almost too big now. I'm wearing them anyway. People will just have to wonder.

About 200 genealogists are gathering together in Orlando for a week's cruise on the high seas, with stops in the Bahamas and the Virgin Islands, interspersed with presentations by some very prominent professional genealogists during the days at sea between ports. Yes, it's another genealogy trip, but no dusty archives this time. Probably not even one cemetery stop, though we are taking a tour of Blackbeard's castle so we might get to see a ghost or two.

Tonight I did the cooking for a week's worth of dog meals to fill the freezer. Little brother refuses to cook for the little people, and they won't eat canned food. So I made a mountain of boiled chicken tonight and then shredded it and bagged it. I'm a good mommy and I feel guilty already.

Boo Cat was enthralled with the smells. He wound around my feet until I gave up and gave him a small piece. A monster was created. He loved the stuff and he wanted MORE. To emphasize his desire, he took a flying leap up my leg and buried his claws in my upper thigh. It definitely got my attention. I explained to the little toot that his approach needed work, while trying to stanch the flow of blood down my leg.

To save myself from further damage, I tossed a few scraps in the floor. A few minutes later you would have thought that a tiger was protecting its kill. Scout had made a move to sample one of the chicken pieces and Boo let out a growl worthy of inhabitants of the Serengeti. So I had to toss a few more scraps in the floor for her. I think I am seeing the writing on the wall with those two. It's only a matter of time before I'm cooking for the cats, too.

So the countdown is on. The suitcases are out and the dogs are giving me the cold shoulder. I'm in the pre-vacation mode where everything at the office is making me completely nuts. (I would much rather be at home packing my baggy clothes than dealing with the day to day aggravations.) Lord, give me strength to get through this week.

LSW

My Staff

Meet my staff, without whom I would not be able to run a functioning household. At front center, is Mr. Mojo, first lieutentant. Directly behind him is first assistant secretary Coco, who apparently is on vacation today (nothing could persuade her to look into the camera). Proceeding clockwise, we next see Xana, managing secretary. On the uppermost level is Miss Scout, intern. Finally we meet Mr. Boo, the rising young upstart, who has his eye on the first lieutenant position.

They had an exhausting morning, helping Mom move the remaining plants into the "greenhouse". Time for siesta.

LSW

Impressed, Confused, Addicted

One of my tiny little weaknesses is a fondness for electronic games. Some nights I spend the last thirty minutes before going to bed playing various free games at msn.com. (I'm fond of Rocket Mania and Word Mojo, in particular.)

I also have a stack of handheld games that I've impulsively picked up on Wal-Mart stops. Until yesterday my favorite of that genre was Yahtzee. But there's a new favorite in the house.

20Q. A little plastic ball with a scrolling text line that asks you a series of questions about some object, any object of your choice, and attempts to guess what you are thinking within 20 questions. You press the "yes", "no", "unknown", or "sometimes" buttons in answer to its inquiries. The thing is spooky in its ability to zero in on the answer.

Being a stubborn cuss, I have been coming up with the most bizarre things I can think of to test its powers. I decided to think of an oak tree. I figured it would guess tree easily enough and I would have to accept that it had won. I never figured out what it had asked me that allowed it to correctly guess oak tree. But it did. I was astounded.

Ok, next test was a zebra. It hit it easily within 20 questions, though I never figured out why it said zebra and not just a plain horse.

Aha, I thought. Got you now... I pictured a tombstone, a common object to this cemetery hopping genealogist, but not such a common thing for other people to be thinking about. I'll be damned if it didn't guess that as well. It took it 25 questions, but it got it.

The little gizmo gives itself an extra 5 questions if it doesn't get it right the first time, but if you stump it in 25, it concedes defeat. So far I'm managing to stump it about 1 time in 10. Believe me, I am throwing it some pretty weird challenges. "Tombstone" and "frying pan" it guesses. I stumped it with "walnut". Bizarre and unpredictable.

And completely addictive. Who needs TV?

LSW

Voila!

Okay, before we start on the real topic, here is an update on the resident hooligans. They are no longer cautious around their kitty tree; they zoom to the top and bounce to the bottom as quickly as it took to type this sentence. They race through the house, tackling each other, the dogs, and me. They can hear me open the pantry door from the far corner of the upper floor. They steal laundry about to be folded and create their own kitty toys from a rolled up sock.

In other words, they are generally a blur and impossible to photograph. Until nap time. See how they've grown...

I must mention here just how fabulously the kittens and the dogs are getting along. I've caught every one of the dogs nuzzling a kitten from time to time and even tolerating friendly pats from kitty paws. It's a miracle.

Now, on to the real topic. It occurred to me that bringing the plants indoors this year was going to be a problem, what with the two little monsters on the prowl. I had visions of broken branches, leaves littered all around, and smelly vapors coming from the potting soil. On the other hand, I knew it wasn't going to be long until the weather guessers came up with the first freeze warning. What to do?

Sometimes I amaze myself. I decided to turn one of the gazebos into a green house this winter, allowing me to keep the plants outside. At first, I figured that I would need a lot of plastic sheeting. And then the brainstorm hit. Shower curtains. I bought 8 of the cheapest clear shower curtains I could find (about $20 worth), and 8 sets of the cheapest shower curtain rings I could find (about $12) and this morning created a very passable greenhouse.
During the coldest nights this winter, I can run an extension cord from Mother's bedroom and put a light in with the plants for a little heat. On the warm days, I will just push back the shower curtains. The plants will still have light and fresh air and my house will be plant-litter free. Win, win, win solution.

LSW

Boom, Boom, Ain't it Great to be Crazy?

I'm beginning to wonder about my sanity.

For one thing, I was rechecking the details of my upcoming vacation and realized that I must have been drunk when I made the flight reservations. For some reason I booked a flight that leaves at 6:00 AM. What was I thinking? We've decided we will have to spend the previous night at a hotel close to the airport or there's no bloody way we're going to get there in time.

And then there's the issue of the kittens. The little toots are turning the house upside down. This morning as I was attempting to work on my laptop upstairs, I spent the better part of two hours removing one or the other from either the laptop keyboard, the phone, the tv remote or my leg. As fast as I would get one untangled and removed, the other one would be latching on. As soon as I would convince one of them to stop chewing the power cord, the other would be attacking Mojo and starting a big dog-cat fight all around the bedroom. Anything moveable is repeatedly nudged off into the floor. They are alert to anything I am eating or drinking and do their best to sneak into my glass or plate to check on whether it might be a kitty treat. They are a yellow and black and white blur of activity.

And then, just as you think you can't stand another minute of their devilment, they fall over into a dead sleep, purring and snuggling against me. Who can resist sleeping babies?

No doubt about it, I've completely lost my mind.

LSW

Geez

Ok, the good news is that I've lost 10 pounds on the diet I started the day after Labor Day. It takes about 10 pounds before you really feel the effects of weight loss. My jeans that I bought last fall were beginning to slide down my hips.

So I went to the local Beall's store this past Wednesday and tried on a couple of pair a size smaller. I bought one pair, thinking that I'm going to be losing more weight and will probably have to buy another pair soon. I kid you not, they were snug but comfortable and looked just right.

So today - two days later - I wore my new jeans to work. By the end of the day, the dratted things were sliding off my hips.

I'm not complaining or bragging. Just mark it down as further evidence of the impossibility of acquiring a pair of jeans that really fit. Can't be done.

LSW

Literary Corner

My reading lately usually takes one of several directions:

1) Something light but entertaining. For instance, I am currently reading my way through the 28 books in a mystery series by Lilian Jackson Braun, The Cat Who... books. (Sorry, I can't seem to get away from the cat theme these days.) The central character is a middle-aged newspaper columnist who lives with two Siamese cats. One of the cats, Koko, has a knack for sniffing out clues and/or bringing his owner's attention to suspicious people. I avoided the series for years because it sounded entirely hokey, but it turns out that the books are full of likeable characters and the stories are a pleasant diversion when you don't want to have to concentrate too hard on plot.

2) Something slightly more complicated in the plot department. I am also currently reading my way through another mystery series by Elizabeth Peters, the non de plume of Barbara Mertz, a lady with a solid background in Egyptian archeaology. She created a character named Amelia Peabody, an independent lady of means in Victorian England who travels to Egypt, marries an archaeologist, bears him a precocious son and invariably gets caught up in an intriguing mystery while on their periodic digs. I've learned a lot about ancient Egypt reading these books and the mysteries are always well plotted and engaging.

3) The latest book from several authors who never fail to provide an entertaining read: Anne Tyler (hard to describe, but her characters are unforgettable), J. K. Rowling (yes, Harry Potter is for adults as well as kids), Lemony Snicket (ditto his Series of Unfortunate Events books), Ann B. Ross (her Miss Julia books are a riot), and Janet Evanovich (her mysteries or her romance novels can make me laugh out loud).

4) There are the audiobooks that I buy at Half-Price books because they sound interesting and the price is right. Sometimes they are a disappointment, but sometimes you find a jewel. Over the past few weeks I have been pleasantly surprised and grateful to have happened across a few that I can recommend to you in audio or print.

America's Women, by Gail Collins. This history of the American woman takes you on a journey from Virginia Dare in the Jamestown Colony, to the modern woman and gives you a real sense of pride to be an American woman. Also, if you've ever wondered how women managed on wagon trains or in pioneer homes on the frontier, it's a real eye-opener.

The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger. It's a flat out hoot. Particularly enjoyable if you've ever spent time as a personal assistant or secretary. Which I have.

Three Weeks With My Brother by Nicholas and Micah Sparks. I had this on my shelf for quite awhile before I decided to give it a try. I've plodded through several novels by Nicholas Sparks via audiobook and I'm of mixed feelings about him. His novels are not something I would heartily recommend since they manipulate your emotions and he seems to delight in catching you off guard and punching you in the gut. However, this book is enthralling. It is a non-fictional account of a 3-week trip around the world that he took with his brother, interspersed with memories of their childhood. It keeps me sitting in the car for several minutes after I arrive at my destination, just to hear the end of a chapter because I'm so caught up in the narrative.

On Writing by Stephen King. King is another writer whose novels I would just as soon never open. But this memoir about how he became a writer and advice to would-be writers is fascinating. And I do appreciate someone who appreciates the proper use of grammar.

The Mitford Books by Jan Karon. Like Anne Tyler, her writing is hard to describe. She writes a series of novels set in the small town of Mitford and whose central character is an Episcopal priest who marries for the first time at the age of 60. The plots are simple slices of life, but the characters are irresistible.

All of these last few books were happy accidental discoveries because the price was right. I will keep haunting Half-Price Books and taking chances on the unknown so long as these kinds of discoveries keep coming along.

5) Finally, there is an interesting website that I discovered through someone else's blog. It's called Daily Lit . These folks have taken many well-known books and broken them down into daily doses which they will email to you on weekdays. Each portion takes about 5 minutes to read. Among their available books was Pride & Prejudice, a book that I've never been able to force myself to read. So I'm taking it a small dose at a time (currently I've completed 12 of 149 segments). It's an interesting concept and I'm reading each segment, but still wondering why so many seem to feel this is such an outstanding book. I find it incredibly dull and hoping I don't feel compelled to relegate it to the junk email bucket before I finish. (True Confession: The only time I ever resorted to using Cliff Notes for a book report was in a college English literature course. The assigned book was Emma, another Jane Austen novel. I just could not make myself finish the thing. It was horribly dull. So, that one time I took a short cut. I would do it again, without a twinge of guilt. The book was god-awful.)

But enough about me. Read any good books lately?

LSW

Conquering Everest

I really am going to get off the kitten posts in the near future. It's just so darned hard not to think that everything they do is exceptionally cute.

I've lost two cats in the last two years to what was probably coyote snackfests. When I committed to take on these two little guys, I decided that they would be henceforth and forever inside cats. With that in mind, I got online and roamed around until I discovered what looked to be like the perfect kitty tree. It was a bit pricey, but I wanted them to be happy as indoor cats. I first set it up in Mother's room, thinking it would be some entertainment for her. The kittens were not interested. They wanted to be in the living area where the more active members of the family were congregating. David and I decided that if I were to get my money out of the thing, we would have to acquiesce and move it to the living room.

One day is all it took for them to conquer their timidity. When I came in today, they were well in residence.

Xana is not at all convinced that the babies are safe on their lofty perches. She frets and grunts until they decide to come back to earth.

But the babies are indifferent to her concerns. They have come to the mountain and mastered its uppermost height. Their world has expanded and they are in charge.

LSW

Had Enough Yet?

There is a comic strip that I think still runs somewhere, but not in Austin, called Tumbleweeds. It involves the relationship between a bunch of dim-witted cowboys and a bunch of dim-witted Indians. One of the Indians is your basic muscle-bound, empty-headed fellow who is barely able to talk. In a strip many, many years ago, he casually flips a smaller Indian over his shoulder with the comment, "Non likem lil mans. Fro 'em way!"

So, this afternoon's caption should read "Non likem lil cats. Fro 'em way!". Just kidding. They picked my office trash basket as their favorite place to play today.

Just too cute for words, dontcha think?

(By the way, I am doing more these days besides sitting around watching kittens play. Just too lazy to write about it.)

LSW

We Present Noses for Bumping

For those with the strange predilection for cat nose bumping, we present the following opportunity to evaluate the new noses available. I assure you that they are dry and cool.

Beware: Indulgence in cat nose bumping may necessitate serious computer monitor cleaning. Proceed at your own risk.

(For you normal folks out there, I will offer the explanation that it's a Hodge thing. No pet - or baby, for that matter - has been fully accepted into the family ranks until its nose has been gently bumped with the knuckles of the elders of the family.)

LSW

Beware the CATS

They've nearly doubled in size since they arrived. On 3 packets of food and a bowl of cream every day, I guess it's not a surprise. When they aren't eating or sleeping (they've adopted the back of the big red chair under a lamp as their favorite napping spot), they are beating the tar out of each other.

The dogs are enchanted and Coco has moved into the position of mother hen. It's doing her good to feel needed. Xana and Mojo are tolerant and even play with them at times until the kittens are soggy around the neck from dog slobber.

No nook or cranny in the house has been overlooked in their quest for takeover. While the rest of us slowly wake up in the morning, Scout and Boo start their first play of the day when they hear the alarm clock. No snooze button for them. From the noise you would think there was a herd of wild elephants stomping around the house.

The only holdout in the house is the elderly Sister cat. She finds them obnoxious and a blight on her landscape. The kittens say, "Pooh!" And then the tackling and rolling and spitting and running and advanced kitten games resume.

We are having a blast.

LSW

Hidden Tid Bits

Genealogy is a fun past time. You can go for months and not find anything of unusual interest - just the steady flow of vital records, court records, census records and so forth. Nothing that makes you go "Whoa!". Not that I don't enjoy logging all those nice little records you can find in the courthouse and online, but you look forward to those discoveries that make you do a doubletake when you find them.

For instance, the day I discovered that my great, great grandfather fought with Custer. That was an eye-opener. Or the day that an uneventful trip to the Bastrop courthouse resulted in the discovery that my great-great grandparents Hodge had divorced, casting unsavory allegations at each other in open court.

This past week I've been reading material that was sent to me by a distant Hodge cousin. Buried in the thick pile of material was a recounting of a Hodge fortune. It seems that a Joseph Hodges died in England in the late 1700s and, his sons having fallen into disfavor due to their support of the American Revolution, stipluated in his will that his vast fortune was to be held in trust for 100 years and then divided amongst those who could prove to be his legitimate heirs at that time. And we're talking serious money here, in the millions of dollars.

Considerable effort was expended by some of my line's cousins to prove their connection to the estate. Letters were exchanged back and forth across the country, comparing notes on stories heard from their elders, and trying to piece together the line of descent. It makes for an interesting story, but I found myself wondering whether such an estate every really existed. When I inquired of my cousin in Kentucky if he knew what had happened, he told me that the money involved had eventually gone to the crown, since all the sons had supported the cause of the American rebels. Bummer. But entertaining to ponder, nonetheless.

Another odd discovery this week involved my Mason line. My great-grandfather's sister lived in Smithville and was married to a man named Ashley. I've pieced together quite a number of cemetery and court records on the Ashley family, but I've never been able to find any information regarding when Mr. Ashley died. Today, while performing various scans in the archives of the Dallas Morning News, I stumbled across the answer. The item I found read like this:

TWO MEN KILLED BY TRAIN
Were Crossing the Track When the Wagon Was Struck
Smithville, Tex. Jan 28, 1899
This evening at 5:30 o'clock William Ashley, James Farris and Charles Farris attempted to cross the Katy track in a wagon ahead of the south bound passenger train. They were struck by the train, killing William Ashley and James Farris and badly wounding Charles Farris. The team of horses was killed and the wagon demolished.

Another item a few days later confirmed that this William Ashley was the same William Ashley who was brother-in-law to my great-grandfather. And to make things even more interesting, the James Farris mentioned was my great-grandfather's (first) father-in-law. Two members of the family killed in a collision with a train and not one word of this event had trickled down through the family to this dedicated historian. It was definitely a doubletake moment. Not only did I learn the fates of two people in my family records, I realized why there were court records on file in Bastrop that awarded large cash settlements to various members of the Ashley family from the MKT Railroad. Until now, I had assumed there had been some kind of real estate dispute. Instead it was the result of a lawsuit filed by William's widow against the railroad.

The family saga is ever expanding and it's fascinating. You never know when you are going to turn up some dramatic episode like this one. Who knows how many more surprises are waiting to be found?

LSW

Respects

I don't care much for politicians. Very few seem to care about anything but their own finances and, therefore, sell themselves to the highest bidder. Very few seem to know the difference between the truth and outright lies.

I know two politicians for whom I feel real respect. They always seemed to keep the welfare of their constituency above their own gains. They told the truth. That's big in my book.

One is former President Jimmy Carter. He's the only President I ever considered to really be my President.

The other was Ann Richards. I always felt she was telling the truth. She was a gutsy, ballsy, brassy, outspoken old broad. I liked her, even if I disagreed with her. She's the only Governor I ever considered to really be my Governor.

The loss of this grand old Texas lady this past week has made a deep hole in the fabric of Texas politics. May she rest in peace. And may she keep the angels in stitches with her sharp wit.

LSW

News from the Homefront

Your quiz question for the day. Following is a photo of my right arm. From the evidence would you deduce that:

a) I've been berry picking?
b) My boyfriend needs a manicure?
c) I have a new kitten?

The correct answer is none of the above. I have two new kittens and they are turning the house upside down. Meet Scout (the black and white female) and Boo (the yellow tom).

It's been a mighty long time since we had honest to goodness kittens in the house. The dogs are beside themselves with excitement and trepidation.

I know better, but I can't resist the opportunity to acquire a yellow tomcat. Anyone with Hodge blood flowing in their veins has this hidden weakness. I also miss my Maggie cat and could not pass up the little black and white spitfire.

They are named for characters from my favorite book To Kill a Mockingbird. They are settling in and making their plans to take over the household.

I have other news, including a saga of criminal activity (trespassing on private property in search of a hidden cemetery) and medical horror (surgery on an infected eyelid - I'm all better now), but we'll save those stories for another time. Suffice it to say, I've been a busy little bee for the last week and no time to spend blogging. For better or worse, I think I'm back.

One more pic for the road.



LSW

Time Wasters

I have no idea what brought this to mind, but many years ago my aunt, Linda, and I played a game that she had heard of where you think of song titles containing the word "heart" and replace the word with the word "pump". For example:

I Left My Pump in San Francisco
Oh, My Pump Skips a Beat
Pump and Soul
Pumpbreak Hotel
Theme from Titantic, My Pump Will Go On

You get the idea. In a book I read by the late H. Allen Smith, he and his friends came up with a different version. They observed that the orchestra leader Lawrence Welk pronounced the word "heart" as "hard". Then were sent into spasms of mirth by substituting "hard" for "heart". Being a nice, well-bred lady, I will leave it to you to determine just what was so funny about that.

Anyway, that's one way to waste some time. The Austin American-Statesman ran an article a few days ago about how to waste time at work via a handful of websites. I have a few of those that provide a minute or two of comic relief during a dull day. The trick is to not get so caught up in the distraction that you forget you have a job and get fired. Here are a few of mine and of theirs:

http://www.imdb.com/
The Internet Movie Data Base, where you can dredge up excruciating minutiae about any movie, tv show, actor, director, etc., that you can think of. Great time waster.

http://www.lileks.com/institute/gallery/spec.html
The Gallery of Regrettable Food. Believe it or not I actually own some of the cookbooks that he skewers. How sad is that?

http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/
Television Without Pity. Where the recaps are better than the original episodes.

http://www.vectorpark.com/
I have no idea what it is. But it sure can divert you for a bit.

http://www.fborfw.com/fun/bones/
Took me about 4 times before I managed to win.

http://www.kissthisguy.com/
Who hasn't been embarrassed at some point when you realize that the song you thought you knew was saying something entirely different than you thought.

http://www.careerbuilder.com/monk-e-mail/
Try typing a message and hearing it given back to you by a chimp.

http://www.jigzone.com/
Your daily jigsaw, in whatever kind of pieces you would like. I'm partial to the circles myself.

Ok, I've done my part to distract you. Unless you would like to play "questions", where everything you say has to be in the form of a question. The first one to speak without a question loses.

Have you seen the boss?

LSW

Nothin' Could Be Finer

The first, second and third finest dogs on the planet. (In no particular order.)

Xana & Coco
Mojo

Little do they know that their idyllic existence is being threatened. Mom has spoken for two kittens to arrive in another couple of weeks. The testosterone level will be increased by a yellow tom and the estrogen level will be increased by an oreo female.

It should be interesting.

LSW

Other Dimensions

Ok, some folks may decide today that I'm completely nuts. However, this blog was started primarily to give me a quasi-journal to look back on and reflect and I'm wanting to start some documentation on this issue for exactly that purpose. So you can believe or not; call me a kook or agree with me. Whatever. I have a very logical mind and I can smell BS from a mile away. I also have a very open mind and I'm telling you, I've seen enough to be convinced that there are spirits among us.

Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Some will say I have good intuition. Some will say I have a raging imagination. And you will be right. But that's beside the point. The fact is that neither of those qualities satisfactorily explains to me what I've experienced over the last few years.

I think I've always been just a little bit sensitive (in the psychic sense). I have strong gut feelings that hit me from time to time that I've learned to listen to, because they seldom steer me wrong. Maybe that's intuition, maybe not. However, a few years ago I started to become more aware of some inner nudges that didn't seem to be quite intuition. The more I paid attention to these odd internal messages, the more I became aware that there was a pattern.

Most of the episodes have occurred since the deaths of my grandmothers. Both of my grandmothers were very supportive of my family history pursuits in life and I am very confident that they are continuing to support me in the afterlife. I have made so many "intuitive" leaps in my genealogical research that have led me to the right connections across time that I know I have had little psychic nudges from somewhere that pushed me in the right direction. Some of those leaps were just too out of the boundaries of normal research methods. The naysayers can say that I have just developed into a very good researcher, and I have, but that's not enough to explain why I will impulsively pull a book from a shelf in a library when there's no reason at all to suppose it will concern my family and only to find that there is a very definite connection to my research within its covers.

How does one explain how I can drive up to a cemetery that I've never visited before, with limited directions, as if I know exactly where I'm headed? And then when I arrive, the tendency to walk right up to the grave I am there to find?

Not long ago I was headed down to the Frankum reunion in West Columbia. I've taken many different routes to Wharton and beyond over the years, but on this occasion as I was driving out of Wharton and toward El Campo I had a very strong definite urge to take a hitherto unknown road leading out into the country. A few minutes later there was a torrent of rain, but I was on a little two lane road with virtually no traffic, so I did not have a difficult time proceeding on my journey. I wasn't sure where I was going, but at least I wasn't in highway traffic under bad driving conditions. The road finally came to a "T" and the rain stopped. And I realized that I was at a point to turn toward Boling on a road that leads directly to West Columbia. I got to the reunion probably a good 1/2 hour earlier than I would have if I had kept going toward El Campo. I didn't know I would come out on that road; all I had was a strong inner push to get off the road I was on and take one I had never seen before to Heaven only knew where.

On another recent occasion, I drove past the house where a couple I knew many years ago once lived. They were good friends of my grandmother Wilcoxen, but I had not thought of them in some time. I found myself wondering where they had been buried. So far as I know I never saw their obituaries and I did not attend the funerals or speak of their funerals with anybody. I decided to ask my father the next time I saw him, or their daughter if I happened to run into her around town as I sometimes do. I even mentioned it to little brother and asked him to ask Daddy if he saw him before I did. About two days later, while driving to work, I noticed the sign to the Haynie Chapel Cemetery which is located just off Highway 71 in Garfield. I had one of those strong urges to drive back and take a look at it, so I followed my impulse and drove the short distance. The gates were open (they've not been open on any subsequent visits there), so I drove slowly through. Imagine my surprise when just a short way through the gate I looked out the window and saw the joint stone for this couple who had so recently been on my mind. It was a definite goosebumps moment.

I have a healthy skepticism when people claim to be psychic, but I do believe that there are those with genuine abilities. I've been catching episodes of Crossing Over with John Edward and appearances of Sylvia Brown on the Montel Williams show. I admit that sometimes I go "sure" and dismiss some of their observations as so much twaddle, but there's enough validation that you can't help but come to a conclusion that there are spirits among us. Which can be comforting or upsetting, depending on your viewpoint. I prefer to be comforted.

I like the idea that my forefathers and mothers may be touching base ever so often, lending support or nudging me in a direction that I might not otherwise think to go. I also find myself thinking from time to time that some of them are deliberately dodging me, refusing to help push me in the direction to find them in the past and uncover their secrets. But that only makes it more interesting in the long run. It takes all kinds to make a family.

What brought me to tackle this little essay today was something that happened yesterday. Sylvia Brown especially mentions the association of random coins being placed by spirits to get your attention and let you know they are around. With that in mind, hold onto your seat.

Yesterday morning I started the car and the light came on to indicate that I had a low tire. I decided that I would stop at a gas station about half-way to Austin and check the tire pressures. A little before I got to the gas station, the light went out, but I decided that I should err on the safe side and make the stop anyway. I pulled up to the air hose and hopped out with my pressure gauge. Just a few inches from three of the tires I found a bright, shiny penny. Three pennies. In close proximity to three of my tires. Coincidence? Maybe. Why did the light come on when all the tire pressures were in the proper range? Why did I stop even though the light had gone out? Why did I park in the exact place to have three pennies positioned by three of my wheels?

I find random coins quite often and especially on days when life isn't going so well. I always pick them up and carry them along. Because maybe it's a friendly spirit letting me know that I'm not alone.

You can believe or not. But in any case, you have to admit that these things are odd enough to push the coincidence factor a little off the normal range.

Cue the theme to Twilight Zone....

LSW

What's in Your Stash?

Those that know me know that I have an affinity for things miniature. Mostly this is in the realm of dollhouse miniatures (the good quality dollhouses for adults type of miniatures).

Back when I first got into the miniatures hobby, you just couldn't find miniatures. This was pre-Internet, back in the dark ages of the 1970s. While dollhouse miniatures were pretty big business in England, the U.S. just didn't have that much available. A rare toy store might carry a few, but they were few and far between. You learned to develop your eye to "see" miniatures in ordinary items that could be found in a hardware store or other commonplace locations. For instance, there is a copper piece that plumbers use that looks very much like a miniature cooking pot. An empty jelly container at a fast-food restaurant makes a good miniature sink (with a wee bit of tweaking). An empty cream container is about the right size for a miniature wastebasket. And so on and so forth.

Things have much improved over the years and miniatures are easier to find. Now, with the Internet, you can find just about anything in miniature that you might think about possibly wanting for a miniature scene. You might not be able to pay for it, but you can find it. But my mind hasn't adjusted to that. It still thinks I need to grab and hoard mini items when I see them, as insurance for the needs of future projects.

So I have a serious hidden stash of miniature furniture, miniature accessories, and things that I see that could maybe be used to create miniature illusions one of these days down the road. This stash has been growing quietly in the darkness for several years, during a period that I have been focused on my genealogy hobby.

I mentioned awhile back that I had a genealogy burnout earlier this year and decided to take the summer off in favor of returning to my knitting and miniatures hobbies for a change of pace. The knitting fell by the wayside when I made a completely asinine, stupid mistake in the middle of a shawl. I decided that I had best divert to the miniatures before I got frustrated enough to strangle myself with the knotted mess that I ended up with after trying to correct the asinine, stupid mistake.

So my first step was to dig out all the boxes of squirreled away miniatures and inventory what I had to work with. It was truly frightening. Boxes and boxes of furniture. Boxes of accessories. Boxes of wallpaper, flooring, windows, paint. About 6-8 dollhouse kits. I could never buy another miniature (fat chance) and have enough on hand to furnish every one of those dollhouse kits that have not yet been put together, not to mention all the box rooms and vignettes that are on the drawing board.

I've actually completed three miniature projects this year, so there is hope. The latest is a project inspired by a $3 garden shed I found at a Hallmark shop.

Aside from the shed itself, I think I made two purchases to complete the little scene. Everything else I found in my stash. I'm not sure whether I should be pleased with that fact or worried about myself. Because this was just a tiny tip on the top of an iceberg.

I started thinking about this after reading an article by the Yarn Harlot and her reflections on how to hide your stash of yarn from your loved ones. She correctly identified that it's a sense of security that is behind the accumulation of a stash. You're always afraid that you might never again find that perfect yarn and sometimes the satisfaction comes not from the article made with the perfect yarn, but the ability to hold the perfect yarn in your hands and ponder what might be made with it. It's a little like that for me and miniatures.

I find it satisfying to know that if I get an urge in the middle of the night to create a miniature room scene, I don't have to go any further than the guest room where I will find the box for the scene and everything that will go into it and can conceivably have the finished scene ready before dawn.

I never have. But I could. And that's security.

LSW

(I also have a yarn stash. All cleverly hidden from my loved ones.)

His Two Cents

I was behind a fellow today in traffic who was making his viewpoint known via bumper stickers:

1) What Would Angelina Do?

2) Who Would Jesus Bomb?

3) God is coming...and is she pissed!

Ok. It's sacrilegious. But funny.

LSW

Smells Like Pumas

My alarm clock/radio is set to come on at 5:15 on station KUT-FM. That means that I wake up to the sound of National Public Radio's Morning Edition. On most mornings, I hit the snooze button about 3-4 times before I finally drag my tired body out of bed and start my day. Sometimes I just listen to the morning news for a half hour before getting up, which is what I did this morning.

Apparently there was a story earlier this week regarding a kid who fell into a vat of melted chocolate. In reviewing the week's stories this Friday morning, the powers that be dug out an old Smothers Brothers routine which dealt with Tommy's having fallen into a vat of chocolate. "What do you do when you fall into a vat of chocolate?", Dick asks. "You yell 'FIRE'", replies Tommy, "because nobody will come if you yell 'CHOCOLATE'!"

Kids today probably have never heard of the Smothers Brothers. Poor, deprived kids. My Uncle Richard had two or three or their albums when I was a kid and I loved listening to them. I watched their television show for as long as they managed to keep it on the air, before the censors gave it the axe for daring to question the Vietnam War. I watched them on the Ed Sullivan show, another experience that has never been available to today's generation. (Elvis and the Beatles live! Eat your hearts out.)

I loved the Smothers Brothers and I loved that NPR remembered that chocolate routine. This morning when I crawled out of bed, I located the one compilation CD I have and listened to it on the way to work. I laughed all the way.

Tom: Mom always liked you best!
Dick: You know why? Because I was an only child!

Tom: The March over the River Kwai was a hit song, even though nobody ever sang the lyrics. They whistled. The lyrics were dirty!

Long discussion on how railroad builders faced horrible perils, such as pumas.
Tom: Pumas are vicious. They hide in big cravasses.
Dick: There are no pumas in America!
Tom: The railroad builders faced horrible beasts! They would hide in cravasses and attack the men. The men said "sure smells like pumas around here!".

"When John Henry was a little baby,
Sitting on his Daddy's knee,
His Daddy picked him up and threw him on the floor,
And said 'This baby's done wet on me!'"

"My old man was a cotton-pickin', finger-lickin' chicken plucker,
What do you think about that?
...And some day, if I can,
I'm going to be a cotton-pickin', finger-lickin' chicken plucker,
The same as my old man!"

Well, you have to hear them to get the full effect. Trust me, they are funny. And though they make liberal use of double entendres, not a word of profanity in their routines. Just two brothers, picking a guitar and an upright bass viol (very competently), singing in harmony, and executing flawless banter that you had better listen closely to or you might miss something hysterical.

I'll take Tom and Dickie Smothers any day over the likes of the so-called comedians that you find on Comedy Central, who seem to think profanity is the key to humor.

Wish somebody would wake up and reissue their old albums on CD.

LSW

An Early Morning Jaunt

Xana and I played hooky for about two hours this morning. Our plan was to end up in Elgin to pick up her new supply of nutritional supplement from the vet. That would have been 40 minutes tops and not nearly enough of a distraction from my recent routine of work, work, work. I decided to do a little volunteer work for FindAGrave on the way.

So, we headed for Elgin by way of Cedar Creek. (Really, you can get there from there.) Our first stop was at the Lower Cedar Creek Cemetery to get a photo of Thomas Smith's grave. That was quickly accomplished, so we decided to go for another photo at the Jones Cemetery. We headed north, kinda sorta in the direction of Elgin. We veered off Highway 21 onto Ranch Road 1209, took a left on Ranch Road 969. In about 15 minutes we reached 1704, which would have taken us directly to Elgin, but Jones Cemetery was in the Hornsby Bend area, so we kept going.

Now this is where it started to get a little out of the way. I had no idea just where this Jones Cemetery was and it turned out to be over the county line into Travis County, about a hair before you get to Ranch Road 973. Really, I could have just headed on into the office at this point. It would have made more sense. Except that I had all my work lying on the bed at home waiting for me to get back from my little Elgin errand.

The Jones Cemetery lies at the end of a little road lined with run down mobile homes, chicken houses, cars on blocks and junk yard dogs. Not exactly the kind of area I like to hit when I'm making cemetery visits. But I was on a mission. So with one eye on the neighborhood and the other eye reading tombstones as quickly as possible, I found my target and got the job done.

The Jones Cemetery turned out to be about 6 cemeteries in one location. I wasn't so surprised to find a dividing fence between the Spanish and Anglo sections. I was surprised to find many subdivisions within the Anglo section, each surrounded by its own fence with its own gate and sign. It gave all the appearance of a bunch of families that lived in the same area but just couldn't get along, even in death. It was unique and I've seen a lot of cemeteries.

We never saw anyone else, but we heard lots of pounding sounds from a nearby shed and fussy chickens in a nearby coop. We were glad to finish our task and turn our attention back to that original Elgin errand. We drove the remaining mile to 973 and turned toward Manor. From there it was an easy jump onto Highway 290 and we finally got to Elgin. (See you can get there from Cedar Creek.)

At Elgin we got a boost of good news. Xana's weight has held steady for a whole month. This is a very good development. We were so pleased we decided to take the long way back to Bastrop. (Oh, come on. At this point it was almost inevitable.)

So we headed out 1704 to drive through the Coon Neck community on the way back to Ranch Road 969. I decided if we saw any cemetery signs, I would stop and get photos of the gates to post online. We came across four cemeteries enroute that I had never before visited: McShane Memorial Garden (which had a whole 5 graves, so naturally I took photos of all of them), Youngs Prairie (which had two gates very securely padlocked against any visitors), the Spier Cemetery, and the Colorado Chapel Cemetery.

We finally rolled back in our driveway a little over two hours from the time we had left. It was a nice break - a chance to drive through the countryside and see some of Bastrop and Travis Counties that I had never had reason to visit before. It was a lot easier to hit the pile of work waiting for me after a little early morning jaunt.

And Xana's doing ok for now.

LSW

Make it Eleven

In my list of people I can no longer abide, I missed one:

11. Oprah (who died and appointed her the moral conscience of the world?)

LSW

Read the Label

I decided that today's lunch called for a serving of Central Market Tortilla Soup. I do so love the stuff, but I try to hold it down to one, at the most two, servings per month. The soup itself isn't so bad in the calorie department, but the cheese and tortilla chips push it into the "be careful" zone. It is larrupin', I kid you not.

After filling my to-go cups with soup, I ducked across the aisle to pick up a little something sweet to complete the meal. I decided on a chocolate frosted brownie. And back to the office I went.

The meal at my desk proceeded despite numerous interruptions and I licked the soup bowls clean. Absentmindedly I started nibbling on the brownie as I worked.

There used to be a "sponsor" on the Prairie Home Companion show that sold a hot sauce that was pronounced something like "ah-hoo-ah!". That being the sound one would make when the heat got to you. I had eaten three or four bites of the brownie when I felt compelled to utter "ah-hoo-ah!".

"What the?", I thought. I came to the conclusion that for some reason the soup's heat was still with me and wasn't mixing well with the chocolate. I drank a good long swig of water and tried again. "Ah-hoo-ah!" I said after three or four bites. That dang brownie was HOT.

That's when I finally read the label. Turns out that this is Hatch Chile month at Central Market and my brownie was laced with the stuff. Explains the cute little green chile icing shape on the top. Duh.

It's really not that bad, once you know what's going on.

LSW

Ten People I'm Sick Of

10. Princess Diana (for God's sake, let the poor woman rest in peace)

9. Pat Robertson (for God's sake, really for God's sake, terminate his on-air privileges)

8. Lindsey Lohan (we can do better than make stars from self-indulgent brats)

7. Paris Hilton (geez, where do I start?)

6. Tori Spelling (see #8)

5. George W. Bush (wonder when they will perfect brain transplants?)

4. Tom Cruise (never liked him, never will)

3. Brangelina (pitiful and now they are reproducing)

2. Mel Gibson (both feet in mouth and then you shoot yourself in both)

1. Katie Couric (no one, I repeat no one, is worth what she gets paid, but I get a real gut feeling that she thinks she is)

I could go on, but these are the ones that make me want to throw bricks at the television the most. Boy, could we use some decent role models for a change.

LSW

Something Stinks

So, I have this elderly cat who has been in failing health for about a year or so. I spent a small fortune when she first started hacking and sneezing and breathing like she has a stuffy nose. The folks at the vet clinic could find nothing to explain her symptoms. She took a round of antibiotics and nothing changed. After several visits to the doctor, we gave up and decided to let nature take its course. That was over a year ago.

Since then, she has bounced out the door every morning, spending the day in the underbrush and wandering back in late in the evening. She and Coco have made friends and if she hears Coco out on the deck during the day, she sometimes comes in early for a little head butting. She's lost weight and still hacks and coughs, but she keeps hanging on. In the back of my mind I know that one evening she probably won't come in and that will be that. At least I'll have the knowledge that she's spent the last year happily following her chosen routine.

So this afternoon it was with some consternation that I opened the door out to the deck and smelled the unmistakable odor of a dead animal that's been baking in the hot August sun. I went out and looked around, but didn't see an explanation for it. My first thought was to wonder if it was Sister.

Today was a day of stink. I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say that there were some things going on today that really smelled to high heaven. When I walked out on the deck today and the malodorous stench hit my nostrils, I thought it fit right into the mood du jour. Stink, stank, stunk.

Well, to make a long, rambling story short, Sister wandered in at her usual time and all is well on the home front. I hope the rest of the story has a happy ending, but at the moment I'm not very optimistic.

LSW

P.S. Oh, yes. The trip to San Antonio was a lot of fun. A long, expensive visit to the dollhouse store, a short expensive trip to the San Marcos outlet mall. Lunch and good company for the day. Wish the benefits of a vacation day had lasted a bit longer.

Odds and Ends

This is one of those weeks when I have a lot I would like to do and no time to do it for killing work-related rats. However, tomorrow I'm taking a day to play hooky in San Antonio and leaving the rats to fend for themselves. Maybe they will eat each other up while I'm gone.

Sunday I spent a pleasant two hours exploring in the Elgin Antique Mall. I can poke around in there for a long time, pricing items that I once owned or still do in some cases. A little wooden bird call that I remember was a souvenir from a road trip when we were kids was priced at a whopping $28. I have no idea where ours currently resides. I find it hard to believe that someone might actually come along and pay that price for its twin. I found Christmas ornaments that were identical to some that my grandparents had every year on their tree. I found collectible glasses identical to some that are packed away in the storage unit. I came away with the feeling that I really should get busy and put some things that I'm not emotionally attached to for sale on EBAY and make a little mad money.

I also came away with a 1981 edition of "How to Be Texan", published by Texas Monthly Press. It's a little dated (references to cassette tapes and not one for CDs), but still takes some good shots at those of us who are born, bred and dyed in the wool Texan. I had to chuckle at a couple of the items under "How to Stay Alive in Texas":

Never drive in Houston after 2 p.m.
Never drive in Houston at all. (hear, hear)
Never cross a fence line unless it's yours. (or there's a cemetery within view)
Always say "Howdy" to anyone who says "Howdy" to you. (And always wave if you're waved to.)
Never eat anything thats "a little spicy". (no guts, no glory)
Never get on a horse that someone says is "just a little frisky".
Never go deer hunting with business associates when a deal is being negotiated.
Never say anything about anybody unless asked.
Never tell a Texan his dog is too skinny. (they ain't gonna be tellin' me that, fer sure--my dogs are pushing the envelope of pleasingly plump)

Yesterday the excitement in Bastrop was a lightning storm that blew out the network card in my new PC. Fortunately nothing else seems to have suffered from a close lightning strike that reportedly involved ball lightning. When the folks back home described the glowing ball of fire that flashed just outside the window, I was reminded of my one and only experience with ball lightning. My grandmother Wilcoxen, aunt and I were working in my grandmother's kitchen in Gladewater. Mother was napping in the back of the house and I don't know where the men were. We had the windows open, even though it was raining and there was thunder and lightning all around. With a simultaneous "crack" of thunder, a ball of light shot through the window over the sink and out the window behind the dining table. Fortunately none of us was standing in its path, but brother did it get our attention in a big way. Ball lightning is impressive.

I've been getting scans of great documents from a cousin in Kentucky for my Hodge genealogy and it's putting my summer research sabbatical on shaky ground. But I'm determined to rest that particular hobby until Labor Day. I'm getting that old fever back, though. Knew a rest would do me good on the burn out problem.

And last, but not least, I've been retyping some old sermons of my father's. I remember him hiring me to do some typing when I was in High School and just beginning to type well. I couldn't stand it back then, but I'm enjoying the exercise now. For one thing, I can type a heck of a lot better now, have much more experience with formatting and style, and I'm on a computer instead of the old manual Underwood typewriter. Now that it's something I want to do (to preserve material which is beginning to deteriorate), I am again appreciating that there are some pastors that were/are able to compose thoughtful, informative pieces on the Bible that are worth hearing or reading. From the perspective of my many years of historical research, there's a lot of good historical information to be found in my father's archives.

So between reading, restoring and remembering, I'm keeping out of trouble for now.

LSW

Life's LIttle Pick Me Ups

You know how when you've just about reached the end of your limit, suddenly out of the blue something nice happens? If it weren't for life's little random pick-me-ups, we might never make it.

This is about the 5th week of non-stop aggravation at work. Add to that some home repair issues that I haven't had time to deal with, an infected eye that just won't give up the battle to the antibiotics, and concern over Xana's precarious state of health - well this just hasn't been a good summer so far.

So it was with some surprise one day a couple of weeks ago when I received something like 4-5 compliments on an outfit I was wearing. "How good you look today," was coming at me left and right on a day when I felt fat and frumpy. 'Okay', I thought, 'obviously deep purple is a good color to keep in the wardrobe. It's overpowering my frumpiness. Nothing to get excited about.'

A week later, out of the realm of the supernatural, one of our attorneys paid me a similar compliment on a day when I felt that I looked tolerable at best. Considering the attorneys rarely acknowledge the existence of anyone without a law degree, I was suspecting him of buttering me up for a special favor he wanted. However, I got another compliment on the same outfit from a lady on the other side of the office. 'Go figure," I said. Nothing special about a black knit top and white capri jeans. Must have been the accessories.

Then 3-4 days ago, one of the younger girls in the office caught my door open (I generally keep it carefully closed when I'm in danger of going postal at the slightest provacation) and slipped inside. "I just have to tell you what somebody said about you," she said. 'Uh-oh,' I thought. But she surprised me. "They were saying how nice you look these days. And they really like your hair cut. They wanted to know if you had a new boyfriend." Yeah, right. It takes more than twenty minutes of free time a day to deal with finding, snagging and hanging on to a boyfriend. And that's all I need to send me straight over the edge - an aggravating man.

It seems that I must concede my fashion upgrade is finally bearing fruit. It's taken almost a year, but folks are finally noticing that I jettisoned the tapered pants and men's shirts for a more fashionable persona. Nice to know that the effort is paying off.

And then Mother Nature gave me a small shot in the arm. About a year or so ago, I gave up on mollycoddling my orchid plants, purchased in a burst of enthusiasm when they were in full bloom, and which haven't done anything but sit and look green ever since. I fed them, I watered them, I changed their potting medium, I switched them around to various levels of light. Nothing. They refused to bloom again. When the canopies went up on the deck, I said the heck with the orchids. Forget the cozy air-conditioned house. You don't bloom, you go outside and live like an outside plant. You don't like it, tough. I kept them watered, but no special treatment did they receive. And then this week--surprise!
.
.

Plus, the orchid cactus bloomed twice this week. I wasn't quick enough with the camera this time, but the lovely white blooms greeted me on two different mornings.

And today I've heard from two people that have been out of contact for quite some time: a former co-worker who moved to North Carolina and a Kentucky Hodge cousin who, it turns out, has spent a good part of the last two years in Iraq.

Last, but not least, every day of the week I'm greeted with joyous abandon and wiggling butts when I come home. Dogs are definitely a girl's best friend and puppy kisses go a long way toward making life bearable.

Thank goodness for the unexpected moments that keep us going when we are in danger of becoming bogged down in life's drudgery.

LSW

P.S. Kisses are the only thing that kept a certain young man from getting pulverized when I found that he had chewed a hole in my new set of 600-thread count sheets.

&#$&@($!!!!!

Pardon my French. Another day shot to ruin, this time by the ever-popular doctor's appointment.

Just what the heck is the matter with some doctor's offices? My mother's doctors run from one extreme to the other. On the one hand is the anal-compulsive Hun who throws temper tantrums if you arrive one minute late. Actually, he and I get along fine because I'm anal-compulsive about arriving on time. I never mind going to those appointments because I know I will be in early, out early, and back home in an hour (barring road work).

On the other hand is the little lady doctor for whom appointments are just wishful thinking. We've sat as long as two hours in her waiting room before getting into an exam room, where you could end up waiting another hour. Unless you throw a royal temper tantrum and leave loudly as I did a couple of visits ago. Remarkably, they managed to get us in and seen within half an hour on our last visit. Sometimes the squeaky wheel does get the grease.

Don't even mention the word "emergency". I understand emergencies. I understand when they tell you as you arrive that there was an emergency. My patience tolerance doubles when I'm told that on the way in. But don't tell me an hour after I arrive. And don't try giving me that baloney in a dermatology office, which really happened to me once upon a time. A dermatology emergency? Please. How stupid do I look? Don't answer that.

My normal patience tolerance is one hour past arrival. And I think that's generous. There's no reason why the entire world manages to run on schedule and doctors' offices can't. They just don't want to.

So, anyway, we finally got in after I rattled the receptionist's cage a little. Now, why the heck can't people who design doctor's offices figure out that some of their patients are going to arrive in wheelchairs and provide enough manuevering room to get into the exam room without the pusher of same having to go into contortions and ending up with bruised knees? Jeez.

LSW

Just a Wee Nip Now and Again

I made one of my rare forays to the liquor store on the way home Monday. I still feel just a tiny bit odd when I go in a liquor store; the places were so verboten when I was a preacher's kid way back when. If a nice lady were seen in such a place, Heaven would surely have been rocked off its foundation. Thankfully, for many reasons, I no longer feel like I'm sitting in constant judgment by Big Brother. (Or Big Church Congregation, as it were. One day I will mouth off at length about living in that particular kind of fishbowl.)

But I digress. I'm not a big drinker by any means. My trip Monday was to pick up a new supply of Disaronna (amaretto). Late last year I discovered the combination of a little amaretto and Sprite for a late night sleep aid. ("And it's so tasty, too!") Brother and sis-in-law gave me a fifth of Disaronna for Christmas and I was down to my last two ounces. (A fifth consumed over a period of 7 months--yeah, I'm a big drinker.)

As I waited in the drive-through at the liquor store, I had to chuckle. My grandmother Hodge was a tee-totaler, but told a good story about getting fall-over drunk on sips of beer at a ranch party when she was a youngster. That may well have been the only time she ever drank spirits. I never saw her take a drink in all the time that I knew her.

If anybody was any more straight-laced than Maw-Maw, it had to be my grandmother Wilcoxen. And yet there came a time in her middle-aged years when a bottle of Mogen David wine became a staple in her refrigerator. I can remember my father teasing her and her protestations that she was taking a small amount every day at the instructions of her doctor. I don't doubt that for a minute. However, now that I'm in the early stages of middle-age, I'm betting that his suggestion that she take a wee nip daily wasn't met with great resistance.

Because a wee nip now and again can take the edge off the day's stress and relax you enough to finally get to sleep. And we middle-aged gals can use a little help in that department. An ounce a day keeps the insomnia away.

And the heck with what the church ladies may think.

LSW

Your First Clue

You know your day is going straight to hell when, after an hour or so in the office, you look down in a meeting to discover that the shoes you thought were black when you put them on in your bedroom to match a totally black outfit are, instead, navy blue.

Thankfully I will spend 3/4 of the day with my feet safely tucked under a desk and in florescent light the navy is dark enough to pass for a bluish black.

It doesn't help that today follows a day when I paired what looked like a jewel blue top with cranberry red pants. In bright sun, the blue took on a green cast and the overall effect was Christmas in July.

I think I'll just start wearing sweats and running shoes and forget about fashion.

LSW

August 1, 1966

I was twelve that summer. We were spending a few days at my grandparents' house in Elgin. I can remember eating a watermelon out under the big tree earlier in the day.

My grandfather and father had gone to Austin to deliver a load of watermelons. There was no telephone at the farm house. Television in those days consisted of one station, KTBC, and there was no reason for us to be inside on a hot day watching television. There was no air-conditioning either, so it was best to be outside in the shade. So we weren't listening to the radio either.

In other words, we had no idea what was happening a mere 30 miles away on that hot August day. It was probably best. If we had caught any news reports, we would have been worrying all day about our menfolk who were in Austin.

Because that was the day that Charles Whitman went to the top of the UT tower and went on a shooting spree, killing and wounding dozens of people in his line of fire. The first we knew of the day's events was when our men came back and told us what had been going on.

For days afterwards the papers and news reports were filled with the grisly details. One photo that sticks out in my memory all these years was that of a coed who was crouched behind the concrete foundation of the flag on the mall, just barely hidden from Whitman's view.

We had two cousins on campus during the rampage. Cousin Jo was taking a test in one of the buildings and her husband Luther safely made his way to that building to warn her. I remember a story of a man who said he was trying to climb a fence and was about to give up when a bullet sang over his head. He cleared the fence easily with that extra bit of motivation. I remember the grainy black and white news films showing the ambulances taking away the bodies. I remember learning that one of the victims was an unborn baby whose mother was struck down by one of the bullets.

Anyone who was at least 10 years old and lived in Central Texas during 1966 probably has similar flashes of memory when they drive down Guadalupe Street and past the Tower. I never go within rifle range of the Tower without glancing up and thinking about that day.

One madman on a hot August day. I remember.

LSW