Things you’d like to say in public (but can’t)

Just got back from the semi-monthly re-distribution of my paycheck (Dandy Cleaners, Spec’s, H-E-B; Costco tomorrow).  Random things you’d like to say but probably can’t---or at very least, shouldn’t:  (Warning:  this is as far from politically correct as it gets.  But don’t worry, liberals and conservatives, women and men alike should be equally offended.  We’re an equal-opportunity operation around here!).  (My buddy Keith has a word for what I’ve become:  a Crank.  I’ve become a Crank in my old age…).

1.  Ma’am, here is a handy instruction guide for the operation of your automobile:

• Upon exiting the store, have keys in hand.
• Walk quickly to auto.
• Unlock door (electronic clicker optional but nice)
• Open door.
• Enter auto.
• Close and lock door.
• Insert key (which is still in your hand) into ignition.
• Turn key to start engine.
• Using shift lever, place car in “Reverse”.
• Applying gentle pressure to accelerator pedal, back out of parking place.
• Drive away so THE 90 YEAR OLD LADY WHO HAS BEEN BLOCKING TRAFFIC FOR THE LAST 10 MINUTES WHILE YOU FIDDLED WITH YOUR MAKEUP, YOUR HAIR, YOUR NAILS, BALANCED YOUR CHECKBOOK, REARRANGED THE ENTIRE CONTENTS OF YOUR PURSE, CHECKED HAIR/MAKEUP/NAILS IN MIRROR AGAIN, THEN SEARCHED FOR CAR KEYS, THEN FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO OPERATE THE GODDAMN CAR, CAN PARK HER CAR UP NEXT TO THE DOOR, FREEING THE DRIVE LANE FOR THE 20 CARS THAT HAVE STACKED UP BEHIND HER.  SHE’S 90.  YOU’RE 30.  SHE’S ENTITLED.  YOU’RE STUPID.

2.  Sir, at our store there are four varieties of regular cow’s milk:  Whole, 2%, 1%, Skim.  There are two brands:  Borden’s and H-E-B.  The fact that you have stood there staring at the milk (with your buggy blocking the next 3 compartments) for the last 6-7 minutes indicates a rather disturbing lack of decision-making ability on your part.  SELECT ONE AND MOVE ON.

3.  Ma’am, I’m delighted you’ve found a friend!  Would you two ladies kindly take your conversation to the in-store coffee shop AND GET YOUR FREAKING BUGGIES OUT OF THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLE WHEN 20 PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO USE IT?

4.  Ma’am, we now have this marvelous, amazing, astonishing invention called the DEBIT CARD.  It takes the money RIGHT OUT OF YOUR CHECKING ACCOUNT!  It’s easy!  It’s fun!  You simply grasp your card firmly, swipe it through the little swipe thingy, enter your PIN, and –PRESTO!- your groceries are paid for!  Accordingly, it’s no longer necessary to stand there while the checker rings up (ancient term) your buggy full of groceries, then have him/her announce the total damage to you, THEN dig in your purse for your checkbook, then dig again for a pen, then open the checkbook, then carefully write in the amount in your check register, then write the actual check, then hand the check to the cashier (who looks at you suspiciously), then fumble in your purse again for your ID, then have the cashier write 20 things on the check, then run it through her machine---TWELVE MEN (and/or intelligent women) COULD HAVE ALREADY CHECKED OUT AND GONE BECAUSE THEY’RE NOT AFRAID TO USE THEIR GODDAMN DEBIT CARDS!   Checks have gone the way of the buggy whip…LEARN HOW TO USE TECHNOLOGY AND KEEP UP (if you just MUST keep careful records, the cashier will still hand you a handy RECEIPT showing the total, which you can later enter into your computer.  You do have a computer, right?).

5.  To anyone for whom English is not your native language:  This is America.  We speak English here.  It’s preferred that we do it QUIETLY and POLITELY.  JABBERING IN FARSI, SWAHILI, VIETNAMESE OR ANY OTHER LANGUAGE AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS IS JUST PLAIN RUDE.

6.  To all Mommies and Daddies:  Yes, your moppets are, in fact, adorable---NOT.  The fact that you are used to their screaming does not mean the rest of us are.  SHUT THEM THE HELL UP!  (My Dad would have worn us out if we’d have acted that way in the store.)

7.  Similarly, running up and down the aisles while shrieking is never permissible.  It is the grocery store, not the playground.

8.  Similarly, the fact that you are BOTH a young family with kiddies AND from somewhere other than here does not mean you should fail to observe our social customs.  Repeatedly ramming someone from behind (in the behind) with a shopping cart is unacceptable behavior from shrieking moppets; it is UNFORGIVABLE when it is YOU doing the bumping.  It’s called “personal space”, look it up.  My personal perimeter is about 4 feet; I realize my posterior is large, but it is not for use as target practice for the bumper car range.  Trust me, Amatullah---this is not the bazaar at Mecca.  It is H-E-B in Houston.  Nobody is going to try to cut in line or steal stuff out of your buggy.  It’s ok for you to leave a couple of feet between my behind and your buggy.

9.  White dude my age:  that T-shirt you’re wearing must have ROCKED in 1984, dude!  You were a slender dude with a ‘tude then, weren’t ya?  Well, sir, let me tell you, at this point you’re at least 75 - 100 lbs heavier than you were then, and that T-shirt is about 3 sizes too small.  Your belly is correspondingly much larger and has sprouted a rather amazing amount of hair.  Since the T-shirt is too small to contain it, your big hairy belly is hanging out from underneath.  This is –less than appetizing- to most of us (not to say there’s anything wrong with that if you like that sort of thing). 

BTW, tell your “kiss of flame” who was with you at that concert, now your wife (or “old lady”, whichever applies):  the item is called a brassiere; they are available at many stores in an astonishing variety of styles, sizes, and prices; their purpose is to assist those monster ta-ta’s that in 1984 must’ve been great, but at this point are trying to visit their friends the knees down in Sagville.  Sad but true:  just as your “size medium” T-shirt days are behind you, so her white-halter-top-with-no-bra days are behind her.

10.  20-something frat guys at Spec’s with 2 shopping carts full of cases of brewskis:  Dudes, this time in your life rocks!  Unfortunately, continued use of the brewski in that quantity leads to #9 above.  Trust Uncle Nicky, he knows.  He was once as slender and good looking as you.  Now, at least, he knows that if the T-shirt is not “XXX” or better, he should not be wearing it.

11.  It’s sad to feel slightly dirty for standing behind the young dudes in #10 above while holding a bottle of Jim Beam Black, a bottle of Canadian Club, and a bottle of Johnny Walker Red, all big enough to have built-in HANDLES.  Beer is a fun little beverage for fun young adults.  The booze mentioned above smacks of middle-aged despair and incipient alcoholism.

12.  Dear H-E-B:  If your Managers know that Blackberry devices set off your alarm, therefore let guys like me walk right through there (while the alarm is shrieking) without stopping them---what’s the use of the alarm at all?

13.  I don’t know what it is about Costco, but in Houston, it’s an Asian paradise.  I literally look around and ask, “Am I on Bellaire Blvd?” (Chinatown here).  I don’t know what it is about the Asian culture that makes them drive and walk so s-l-o-w-l-y.  Maybe they’re right and I’m wrong; maybe I should learn to slow down.  I just don’t get the allure of spending hours in Costco.  I go there for toilet paper, paper towels, and dog food.

14.  Ted the Barber is great.  He does an amazing job of cutting my hair, best I’ve ever had.  Unfortunately, he also likes to get paid for that service….

And finally: 

Will the day ever come when I remember to buy ice on the first go-round?  I don’t like ice out of the icemaker, it tastes funny.  All of it.  I like ice from a bag (it’s made with distilled water, which has no taste).  Accordingly, I buy ice.  I just never remember to do it while actually in the line in the store; I then have to go back in and buy it.

I actually love our H-E-B, it’s got tons of variety, tons of great things to eat, amazing specials, good low prices, and the friendliest cashiers/management team I’ve ever encountered at a grocery store.  I love Spec’s; my God, they’ve got EVERYTHING!  I love Dandy Cleaners (though I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m paying for Song’s (the uber-nice proprietress) new Mercedes…).  I love going to Ted the Barber; Ted has led a fascinating life starting with his life on the streets of Mexico City as a child, then pulling himself up by his bootstraps, then finally making a successful business in the US (and becoming a citizen).

And now I have about $50 left in my checking account (after CitiMortgage gets through with it, not to mention the vet for poor little Bessie-boo’s heartworm treatment and the State of Texas, which has this annoying habit of taxing me every August for tags for my autos; we have smog inspections here, too, much like Los Angeles).  Oh, well, come on, August 15th!

 

Damn.

Why we don’t like hurricanes

I knew this was out there somewhere, just found it.

To get an idea of what the oil-spill-cleanup people are dealing with, look at the pictures of the surf hitting the Seawall in Galveston as Ike approached.  Alex was a Cat 2 and Ike was a Cat 2 at this stage (except Ike actually hit us, while Alex went to Brownsville…

Surf

Link to Hurricane Ike aftermath pictures:

We did NOT like Ike

And now there are two more brewing in the Gulf.  Will they come get us?  Who knows?  But it can (and may) happen.

Stay tuned.

HURRICANE!

No, no, no, not THAT kind of hurricane!  The OTHER kind!

I’ve been fascinated with hurricanes ever since Hurricane Carla came to visit.  We lived in Dallas, and even THERE the hurricane winds were howling and the water was high enough to come in our sliding glass door. 

Nathan and I rode out Hurricane Ike (run from water, hide from wind!).  Overall, it wasn’t bad.  The damage to the city was shocking, and it was a relatively “tame” hurricane.

These amazing storms are fascinating in their intensity.  What causes them to form?  Why do they move so unpredictably? 

A great book on the human effects of a hurricane is Isaac's Storm by Erik Larson.  If you’ve not read it, pick it up and do so (his other book, The Devil in the White City, is equally riveting).  The Great Storm of 1900 forever changed Galveston and the southwest.  Until then, Galveston was the foremost city in Texas, vastly eclipsing the sleepy Mexican village of San Antonio; the tiny capitol, Austin; the frontier trading post of Dallas; the cattle-driving Ft. Worth, and the malarial swamp called Houston.  Galveston was educated, erudite, classy, elite.  “The Wall Street of the South” existed on The Strand. 

The Great Storm drove the Gulf of Mexico over the sandbar on which Galveston sits, to a depth of 15 feet at the shallowest point.  The only survivors clung to the tops of trees or the top floors of the few remaining buildings.  The official death toll (laughable even then, put forth by city leaders anxious to maintain their city’s supremacy by downplaying the danger) was 8,000, which makes it the most fatal natural disaster in history.  The figure was probably much higher; there is no way to know but the usual guess is 20,000 people of a total population of 42,000.  There weren’t enough living to bury the dead, so the bodies were placed on rafts and towed out to sea.  Two days later, they washed ashore.  They were then placed in funeral pyres which burned for weeks.  A true human tragedy, and one rich with the stuff of drama:  hubris, arrogance, greed, a natural disaster, a great loss, and the aftermath.  Again, riveting stuff.

Galveston never recovered.

Unlike San Francisco a year later, which rebuilt from the ashes of the Great Earthquake and Fire of 1901, Galveston was unable to regain its supremacy.  The town finally decided to build a 17 foot seawall.  They scraped the debris from the storm to the beach backfilled it, and lifted the remaining structures to a height of 17 feet.  The dead are buried beneath the modern city.  The damage, however, was done; Houston became the center of commerce and Galveston withered; no one was willing to risk their lives (even with a 17 foot seawall) to repopulate the island.  Today, it’s a pleasant, quirky island community of 85,000, while greater Houston is over 6.5 million.  People from Galveston have a fierce pride; the term “B.O.I.” (Born On Island) is a badge of honour.

>>>o<<<

The most vivid images of Houston during “hurricanes” occurred not during an actual hurricane, but during a Tropical Storm.  Allison came ashore as a “water storm”, dumping inches of rain on the city.  She then moved inland a bit, but was pushed back by an oncoming cold front and stalled directly over the city of Houston.  The photos of the city are amazing. 

>>>o<<<

It was during one hurricane, Rita, that I discovered the evils of Potts Camp, Mississippi.  We were coming back from Alabama, traveling at around Warp 8.5, traveling through the bands of hurricane Rita.  Hurricanes put off bands of showers; huge deluge of rain, followed by a period of sunshine, followed by another drenching.  We had just come through a band and out into the sunlight; the pavement was still wet but the sun was shining.  Suddenly, we were doing 360’s down the middle of US 78; we wound up landing nose down in the ditch.  In Potts Camp, Mississippi.

>>>o<<<

What brought all this up today?  The sky.  South Texas skies are very expressive, as I wrote about here.  Today’s spoke volumes.

Today’s sky was a hurricane sky.  Huge thunderheads; clouds at all levels; a general sense of foreboding; extremely hot and humid but no sun.  Hurricane clouds. 

Tropical Storm (soon to be Hurricane) Alex is churning up the Gulf, complicating the job of the people trying to contain the oil spill.  We’re much too far north for it….aren’t we?

So yes, today I gassed both of the cars, rechecked my hurricane kit, made sure to buy fresh batteries.  Alex may not come get us---but note that it starts with an “A”.  The season’s just beginning.

Hurricane!

 

For hurricane information and tracking, go to the National Hurricane Center website.

The Malvie Plan For Arkansas football, and some correspondence between old friends…

During the Conference Realignment Crisis (you know, the important crisis, not that oil thing down in the Gulf…), I had several thoughts, which I share forthwith.

>>>o<<<

After all the dust had settled, the Big 12 – 2 writers started speculating about bringing Arkansas back into the fold, following remarks from “a certain billionaire former all-SWC offensive lineman turned oilman turned NFL owner” that he missed the old rivalries, and would like to see the Big 12 – 2 add Notre Dame and Arkansas, I hereby present “The Malvie Plan” for Arkansas:

Let's go!  Big 12 - 2, here we'uns come!!!!

Jerry, here's the deal:  We need a guarantee of whatever texass u (spit) gets in TOTAL REVENUE FROM FOOTBALL----Conference payouts, bowl games, private TV network, etc---plus an additional 50%. 

So, if texass u (spit) gets, say, $30M from football (ticket sales plus concessions plus parking plus merchandising plus conference payout plus bowl payout plus TV network), then Jerry guarantees us the $30M plus $15M = $45M for that year, + an additional $5M automatic bonus each for beating texass u (spit) and chokela U (spit).

So, let's see, we have two tough games in texass u (spit) and chokela U (spit).  We split it, beat texass u (spit) (insert mental orgasms here), but lose tough to chokela U in Norman.  Jay-ree owes us $5M bonus plus our $45M payout = $50M.  Oh, and we get to keep our own Bowl Money.  We then, having lost that one game (having put tears in the eyes of Touchdown Jesus in South Bend), are 11-1 and play texass u (spit) again in the Big 11 + ND Championship game---and lose, sadly.  So, we cry all the way to the Big 11 + ND's auto bid BCS bowl, while texass u (spit), with one defeat, gets clobbered by Alabama in the MNC game. 

I think this is a very reasonable scenario; Jerry makes some serious bucks off the Cowboys, he can spare this small amount of "chump change" for dear old Mother of Mothers (we sing unto YOUUUUUUU!!! ---points toward F'ville).   We make Petrino our $lave for life; we pay off everything in sight (including razing the Broyles Complex, bowling in the stadium to total of 92k, raising the Pigscreen over the NEZ Upper Deck (where sit the students in free seats), buy the band new uniforms, fire Opie and hire Mike Anderson, renovate the newly revived BWA, bring seating capacity at Baum to 25k, and throw in some payola to keep the wimmins quiet competitive in Big 12 – 2 + ND and Arkansas action.

Meanwhile, for devising this master plan, I receive S EZ Outdoor Club tickets for life, plus tickets to all the away games in scenic Waco, Ames, Norman, Stillwater, Lubbock, et al.

 
What's wrong with this plan?  Nothing, I say, nothing. 

I rest my case.

(or, Jerry keeps his millions, ND eventually goes to the Big 10-or-so where they belong, and we stay in the SEC where we belong.  Makes no difference to me, as long as the financials are as outlined above, especially the part about free tix for me).

>>>o<<<

 

I had to swear off Baylor when they hired kenneth starr (spit) to be their President.

 
I only swore off Arkansas football (well, actually, never really swore off football...just stepped back, losing interest) the last couple of years that Rooty Tooty Fresh and Hooty was our football coach, when Petrino came on board I was satisfied and dropped it.  Right now, Arkansas basketball is dead to me until they get rid of Opie; once they do that (and please, this time, Long, can we get a REAL basketball coach to return our storied program to the greatness it deserves?), I'll be back on board.

I'm surprised nobody likes the reasonableness of my plan above....I mean, come on, Jerry, if you're going to stir the pot, put some freaking coins in it.  Otherwise, STFU.

Serious note:  Arkansas' joining the SEC was the best thing that ever happened to it (1964 and 1994 aside).  There were games in Fayetteville in the early 90's with 25,000 in attendance in a 50,000 seat stadium.  The stadium has been expanded to 76,000 and is solidly filled, even with rain or other weather conditions, for everything except possibly "no-name State" in the rain on the first day of deer season.  Arkansas is better off in every single way in the SEC.

THE BIG 12 NEARLY EXPLODED 5 MINUTES AGO.  YOU REALLY WANT TO JUMP SHIP FROM THE SEC TO THAT???? 

Further:  IF TEXAS' LIPS ARE MOVING, THEY'RE LYING.  IF TEXAS' LIPS ARE MOVING, THEY'RE LYING.  IF TEXAS' LIPS ARE MOVING, THEY'RE LYING.  I say again:  IF TEXAS’ LIPS ARE MOVING, THEY’RE LYING.  We put up with that shit for 90+ years, for chryssake.  Why willingly jump back into bed with them?  "Oh, baby, I didn't mean it, I won't do it again."  Yeah.  Ok.  Sure. W-E.

I have had a hilarious time around here (Houston) listening to all the talk shows talking about how Arkansas "regrets" its decision to move to the SEC.  BTW, in almost every case, the person calling and saying such things is either (1) a Longhorn or (2) from Baylor.  You found very few Aggies who thought that, really nobody else. 

I really don't know of ANY Arkansas fans who really regret the SEC.  Now, many of us might regret that it's so far to Florida or Georgia or Tennessee that we can't drive there in a weekend.  Some of us (those old enough) miss the rivalry with Texas---but truly, the last time we played them, I thought, "WTF are we doing playing these people?"  I tried to get the old hate back---and failed.  I don't care about them any more, at least not as a rival.  Given the choice of beating Texas or beating Alabama, I'd rather beat Alabama.  Fuck Texas.  They're a non-con game when we schedule them.  Who cares?

This entire scenario (the whole thing) was brought to you by Texas.  They did it.  They started it.  They did as much as they could to set it up so that, if the Big 12 DID break up, it was Nebraska's or A&M's fault, certainly not sweet, innocent Texas, who only wanted to keep the conference together (sheds tear here), trying diligently to save as much as possible, while "OUTSIDE FORCES" were working to break them up! (They have been saying the same thing about Arkansas for 18 years; they -innocent Texas- did nothing wrong, it was mean old Arkansas that caused the breakup of the SWC.   It's astonishing to listen to the tripe coming out of Austin.  TEXAS COOKED THE WHOLE THING UP SO THEY COULD GET MORE MONEY.

I was impressed with the Aggies, who stood up and told Texas "No".  I was also surprised at Oklahoma (Oklahoma!  As in, 11 National championships or whatever they have!  One of the storied programs in college football, for real) saying "Yes, we want to be Texas' little bitch! (flaps eyelashes at Texas)".

Arkansas has the best thing it could possibly have going for it in the SEC.  We've been there *18 YEARS*.  We're not "new" any more.  There are full-grown humans who do not remember Arkansas ever being anywhere else. 

The answer for Arkansas is not to bolt to somewhere else; the answer is to do exactly what Petrino is doing:  build a winner on the Hill and everything else will fall into place.

Arkansas is where it belongs.

>>>o<<<

Correspondence between old friends:

Berry Tramel in The Oklahoman, "Why the Big 12 Conference Should be Calling the Hogs"

Dear Arkansas,

I know it’s been almost 80 years since we talked (other than that trip to the frozen Cotton Bowl in ‘02), really since we left the original SWC for the Big 8. 

As you recall, I used to be a prominent national powerhouse, and had a premiere game with Nebraska that was watched by millions.  That was great and things were going well for me; I did have the Red River Shootout thing going with Texas, but that was about the limit of my involvement with them.  Then you up and divorced Texas, and I screwed up and let them (and their little minions A&M, Baylor, and Tech) into my conference, and that’s when the trouble began.  Texas moved in, took over my and Nebraska’s nice little private home and sucked the life out of it.  They moved our headquarters to Dallas, stole our name, and bossed us around no end.  We had fun for a year or two, but then Nebraska got to where they weren’t feeling well.  Finally, they just packed their bags and left town, and it was just me and Texas.  I beat them on the football field, but now in every other way I’m just Texas's little bitch.

Of course, if YOU would come back home and be a little bitch for Texas too, then I wouldn't feel so lonely.  It would validate my mistake.  It would make me feel all better that I had somebody else in the conference to commiserate with about how horrible Texas is.  That way, I won't be the only one complaining about being hosed by the Texas refs and the Texas way of pushing me around, I'll have the first wife to commiserate with.  Of course, the little whiny pants outfits are still around, but you don’t need to worry about them, just come keep me company.

(Oh, your old friend Oklahoma State says, “Hey”.  They told me to tell you they missed your annual game, where’ve you been?)

Best regards and please respond soon,

Your old pal,

Oklahoma

>>>o<<<

Dear Oklahoma,

Sorry I haven't written in a while, I've been really busy competing with Auburn, LSU, Georgia, Tennessee, Ole Piss (spit), Moo U, Florida, and assorted other outfits; oh, and Alabama, too (and you know how they are…).

Listen, I appreciate the sentiment in your last letter, offering to have me come back, but here's the deal:  after I left Texas, I wound up moving into the best neighborhood in town.  Now, granted, I don't live in the biggest house, and I'm kind of at the end of the block, but the move allowed me to really fix up the house I have nicely.  Plus, I was able to fire the no-good hired help (the last one I had wound up going down the street to Ole Piss (spit), but then they never could manage the help after Vaught...) and now I've hired some really top-notch talent.

The streets here are made of gold (!) and I'm surrounded by the finest mansions in the country.  All I'd have to do at my age is sit here and let the royalty checks pour in, but I've hired a top-notch personal trainer who is whipping me back into shape so I can beat up on ANYBODY on the block.

I don't want you to think badly of me, but there's no way I'm moving back to that shanty by the river you're occupying with Texas.  You made that bed, now you'll have to lie in it.  I hope you and your friend A&M can some day find the strength you need to stand on your own and kick Texas to the curb---like I did.

Sincerely,

Arkansas

(P.S. Tell Oklahoma State “Hey” for me as well.  Ask them if they’re still hanging around with that crazy oilman/windmill fella….).

Four “P’s”…

My weekends are usually boring…in a good kind of way. 

Pink

My friend Kathy Beaumont often does a “pink” page on her blog.  I’m not much of a “pink” person, so I decided that “pink” is the color of Bessie’s tongue hanging out in the 93 degree Houston “springtime”.

“So…got any treats?”

How hard is it to get three Border Collies to pose for a picture?  You be the judge….

View Full Album

 

Patio

I love hanging out on my patio.  It’s one of my great “simple pleasures”.  It needs repair; it’s falling apart; I don’t much care, it’s comfortable.

The entire 30 years they lived in Malvern (the last time), Dad always had red geraniums in the two urns in front of their door.  As they were walking out to get in the car to leave forever, he grabbed the last one.  Last year, he gave it to me.

This is today:

The mother-in-law tongues (a.k.a. Sansevieria) have a history as well.  The variegated one was Mother’s.  I don’t know how long she had it, but she gave me some of it when I lived in Houston the first time (1979).  The solid green was given to Mother by an elderly relative, who had gotten it when she was a housewife in the teens or twenties, to go on the front porch of their new bungalow in Dallas.  She bought a pot for it at the dime store and potted it.  She was 90 when she gave it to Mother.  Mother repotted, gave away, repotted again, split, gave me some, gave my sister some, gave all her relatives some.  When they moved, the pot remained on the back porch in Malvern from August to February, when Nathan and I went to get the rest of their stuff.  It looked dead.  I cut the tops off and replanted the live bits.  So, this is like, “great grandchild” of the original plant, but I know for a fact that the lady who gave it to Mother did so in 1970; she was 90 then; the pot was purchased during the teens or 20’s sometime.  So arguably the green one (with a little help) is 80-90 years old, give or take.  I must be doing something right; they’re both blooming.

 

Push

Two Saturdays ago, I said goodbye to an old friend.  I bought the first Craftsman mower at the Sears store in Hot Springs.  Mowed my and Dad’s yard for years with it.  Like me (and like many things at my house), it became old, decrepit, and worn, with frequent breakdowns.  Two weeks ago, my neighbors had a garage sale.  I rolled the old lawn mower over there and said, “If someone will haul it off, I’ll be happy.”  They got $25 for it!

So, off I went to Sears (Bank of America threw a fit because I used my debit card; it’s a relatively small purchase; I got a great deal on a big sale.  I hate Bank of America, but they’re all just as bad…).  Say hello to my new friend!  I took the pic because it will never look this good again (and it doesn’t now, it’s dirty ;-).  So Saturday, I got up at 6:00 and fired it up; it did a beautiful job (with a little help from me).

 

Pork:

Two items.  One, H-E-B had pork loin the other day for the amazing price of $2.00 a pound, so I bought two and froze one.  I’m using this easy Crockpot recipe from Allrecipes.com, and the smell is unbelievable! 

Not having it tonight, because I have a steak left over from the other night (I really love H-E-B, they always have terrific prices on their “meat special”; the T-bones were cheaper than the hamburger).  My friend Debra gave me her East Arkansas Delta Grannies' recipe for Kale.  I’d never cooked Kale before but was intrigued, and the price is sure right ($0.99 a bunch), so I tried it and it’s great.  So tonight I’m having Steak and Kale (and yes, I miss the late, great Steak and Ale). 

Kale

• Cut stems from Kale (it folds; use sharp knife and it’s fast and easy).  Cut to bite-sized pieces.
• Place in large pot, cover Kale with water
• Two tablespoons black pepper into the water
• 2-4 slices of bacon (or fatback if you have it)
• Boil for 30 minutes
• Drain, plate, garnish, salt, pepper, eat.

Garnish

• Chop one medium yellow onion
• Place in small bowl, cover with white vinegar
• Set aside and let those two work while the Kale is cooking

Drizzle the Onion/Vinegar mix over the Kale.

There’s another aspect to the “Pork” bit:  SEC Sports has all of last season’s Razorbacks games on their website.  I’ve got the Auburn game queued up and ready to go.

So that’s my boring (but pleasant) weekend.

Have a good week everybody!

Since I’m out of ideas right now, I’ll just steal one….

My friend Joyce over at From This Side of the Pond frequently puts up a “Random Dozen”.  This is another blog she follows; some of the questions on some of the pages are decidedly female, so usually I just read.  Some, though, are universal.

So, a random dozen:

1.What was the last thing about which you procrastinated?

This blog has space limitations….

2. How long does it take you to fall asleep, and do you sleep through the night?

True tragedy:  I generally fall asleep in front of the TeeVee, wake up somewhere around midnight (the dogs always know when it’s time to go to bed, as the TeeVee makes a decided “click” when I turn it off.  Aside for those under 40:  In the old days, when you did this, you woke up to a “test pattern”, which is what showed on the TeeVee station after it went off the air for the night.  When was the last time a station went off the air at night?

Me falling asleep in front of the TeeVee used to drive my Mother bonkers.  “GET UP AND GO TO BED,” she’d shout, using her “I’m your Mother and I mean what I’m saying” voice.  This was only a few years ago…Me middle-aged and her in her 80’s…

One more thing on sleep:  Thank God for CPAP.

3. Which decade would you choose to exemplify your favorite fashion styles?

Hmmm.  I’ve worn the same basic outfits my entire life (excluding my dreadful early 70’s brightly-coloured polyester phase.  I actually owned a pair of platform stacks; they were wing-tips---navy blue patent leather lower, cream patent leather uppers.  And they were my FAVOURITES and I wore them OFTEN.  In PUBLIC).  Khakis, loafers, polo shirts, button-down oxfords, navy blazers (gold buttons, no crest, that’s ridiculous, but can be single-or-double-breasted), shorts, sandals, Hawaiian shirts, bowling shirts, jeans, tennis shoes, ball caps.  Not sure there’s a decade to associate there.

4. What is your personal best dish to feed a crowd?

Spinach dip, steaks, mashed cauliflower (it’s better than potatoes), dessert by House of Pies.

5. Are you an impulse shopper? What was the last thing you bought on impulse?

I have to stay away from DSW Shoe Warehouse.  Can’t go in there and come out empty-handed.  Call me Imelda.

6. What is one wish you have for your own funeral?

I don’t want one.  I used to want a big one with all the trimmings, then I pared it down.  Now, I want to be cremated, with half my ashes scattered over my parents’ graves in Malvern, the other half over the Gulf of Mexico. I’d then like my friends (if I have any left by then) to have a party; wine, women, and song, and tell funny stories about me, remembering me fondly.  That would be best of all.

7. If it's true that joy is in found in the simple things in life, what does your joy look like today?

Community Coffee, Dark Roast, fresh ground from whole bean, with heavy whipping cream.  Best way to start the day.

8. What is your favorite type of bread?
Since I’m a low-carb person, I’m not supposed to have it.  I love pumpernickel (really, i do).

9. What trait do you fear developing the most? (Laziness, greediness, grumpiness, etc.)

I’ve already developed them….

10. What trait would you like most to develop?

Self-discipline (same answer Joyce gave).

11. Which room in your house best reflects your personality? Why?

It’s my house.  They all do.  And they’re all messy.

12. How do you maintain balance in your life regarding, work, family, church, other organizations and activities, and blogging?

I’m not doing very well…..

Happy Mother’s Day

I really miss Mom.

By hook and crook, Mom wound up with an heirloom rose bush.  It’s a fairly old-fashioned double tea rose, but Mother loved it and wound up with it.

It stayed in the back yard (where she could enjoy it), between her shop and the back door, for about 20 years.  When we moved them to San Antonio, they didn’t take the planted things, like “Grandma’s Rose”. 

Nathan and I went back to Malvern when the house sold to “clean up” and get any remaining items, and I saw that rose bush.  I knew the house had sold, but…I went and borrowed a shovel from the neighbors, dug it up, and brought it to Houston. 

The first year, it almost didn’t survive.  The second (last year), it made a few small but pretty blooms, and the foliage looked better.

Mother died in January.  Now, intellectually, I know that it was the particular combination of harsh winter + sudden spring that bump-started it---but I like to think Mother was saying "Hello” to me this year, through “Grammie’s Rose”.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.

Change, and Assurance

Had a nice long conversation yesterday with my friend Robert.  Robert and I have been friends practically our whole lives, and we talk frequently about practically everything.  Yesterday, we covered various items—our digestion (we’re middle aged now…), our weight (same deal), upcoming television programs, the Gulf Oil Spill (and some of the ramifications), and such.  We almost always wind up asking, “How on earth did we get here?”

My grandfather, Jester Jones, moved to town (Malvern) when he was in his early 20’s, and started to work at the Bank of Malvern as an Assistant Teller.  He wound up being de-facto President (the titular President was a Board Member) from 1955 till he retired in 1971.  He worked at that bank for 50 years. 

My Dad joined the US Army Air Corps in WWII.  After the War, he was in the USAF, then worked a couple of other jobs before going to work for the Department of Defense.  He retired from DOD in 1982, putting in over 30 years.

Mother worked for Southwestern Bell Telephone Company for 16 years before deciding to stay home with the kids.  Aunt Joy and Aunt Joydean put in over 30 years apiece with SWBTC.

Robert’s dad, Ed, graduated from TCU and went to work for National Cash Register.  He retired from NCR around 1982 or 1983, after well over 30 years.

Robert’s mom, Betty, stayed at home while her kids were little.  While they lived in Houston, she went back to school, got her degree, and began her teaching career.  She worked for HISD, then in Baton Rouge; then, when her husband’s career took them to San Antonio, she taught 5th grade for Northeast Independent School District for 30 years; retired, and is still substitute teaching at 82.  You go, Miss Betty, I hope you’re still teaching young minds when you cross the century mark.

Aunt Shorty worked for the Department of Defense for over 30 years.  Uncle Cal flew for the USAF for 25 years, then taught at the University of Arkansas for 20 years.  Pop Fink was an MD for the VA from the end of WWII until the early 80’s.

>>o<<

When Robert and I got out of school, the times, they were a changin’ (thanks, Bob Dylan).  Suddenly, you weren’t “job hopping” if you changed jobs often; in fact, you were kind of a dolt if you didn’t.  Liberty Mutual was paying me $12,500 a year with a company car; Alexander and Alexander offered $20,000 plus a car plus air travel and a dee-luxe cubicle in the sky (21st floor, Diamond Shamrock Tower, with a west view, Dallas).  I mean, look at the size of that increase!  Yeah, I took it.

Over the years, I’ve worked for various insurance organizations.  For those who don’t understand anything about it, your hometown insurance agent is one small piece of the grand insurance puzzle.  Other than 2 years, I’ve never handled personal lines (and hope I never do).  This means:  no, I can’t get you a better deal on your car insurance (I buy it just like you do, and know just about as much about it).  No, I don’t sell life insurance.  I don’t sell anything.  I handle commercial insurance claims, specifically products liability, general liability, commercial auto, and my specialty, Workers’ Compensation.  I have dealt with treaty reinsurance, Lloyd’s, multilayered excess and surplus lines, and workers compensation in 40 states.  I’ve worked for major insurance carriers, brokerages, self-insureds, and Third Party Administrators.  I’ve been part owner of a TPA, as Vice-President.  Each one of my career moves (save one) has been for what I consider to be a good reason; more money, better job, desired location.  I say “save one”, because the billion-dollar company for which I worked, the large self-insured, laid me off in December, 2008.  That’s the only time in my life I’ve ever been involuntarily separated from a company; the rest have been at my own behest.

Rob, too, has worked for all kinds of companies.  He started in sales, then made a mid-career switch to real estate appraisal.  He, too, made each one of his moves for “a good reason”, whatever the case may be.  One of his big things has been to stay in Texas (I’ve moved all over); he’s a good son to his parents.

>>0<<

Why all this verbiage about dull-as-dishwater business resumes?

This last Thursday, the employer which moved me to Houston, the one that laid me off in December, 2008, filed for bankruptcy.  Their stock was trading at $0.58 a share, too low to be traded on NASDAQ.  It was over $15 a share when I joined the company in 2007.  The Great Recession got them.  I haven’t talked to anyone over there, but I’m sure this means heavy-duty reorganization, probably with some layoffs or spinoffs.  I know many people lost a fortune (literally) on the stock.

As Robert and I discussed this yesterday, it dawned on me:  of all the employers for whom I’ve worked over the last 31 years, TWO (2) out of the TEN (10) are still in business under their original names (at least the name they had when I worked there), doing business as and owned by the same organizations.  The rest?  Defunct.  Subsumed into another organization.  Spun off.  Bought, sold, name changed, bankrupted, morphed, combined, uncombined and split, recombined, spun off.  Several were victims of the Great Recession.

My friend W (not sure she’d want this on my blog, she’s very private and I respect that), started in the same office one year before I did, 31 years ago (our first jobs out of college).  She worked for that company her entire career.  Didn’t matter.  They closed their Houston office (it opened in 1912) and shifted everything to Dallas.  They offered her a new job (demotion, same pay) in Dallas with no relocation package.  She has lived here 31 years, her husband has about 5 to go for full retirement, their house is paid off, her adult daughter also lives here.  What do you think she did?

>>o<<

All this change has been, to say the least, unsettling.  Finances shot. Retirement?  HA!  I’m incredibly lucky I found a job where I could eat and stay in my house (even if I have to drive 20 miles each way on the Katy Freeway to get to it).  An added bonus is that I actually like the company and the people with whom I work.

Even as late as 2007 (just 3 years ago), who on earth would have thought GENERAL MOTORS would go bankrupt?  I mean, yes, they were in trouble, but somehow I thought they’d pull some kind of rabbit out of their hat.  Who could have foreseen 9/11?  Well, in an abstract way, of course---we all knew it could have happened, and may happen again at any time, but like our own deaths, it’s “out there” somewhere in the future.  Same with Hurricane Katrina---it’s the Gulf.  Hurricanes happen.  New Orleans is below sea level.  There was a huge levee system holding back Lake Pontchartrain.  Think about it.  I lived through Hurricane Ike (with very little personal trauma).  The fact that we had a major hurricane 2 years ago does not preclude us from having another one this year.  It happens.

Now we have this huge oil spill in the Gulf, which has the possibility of being the worst man-made ecological disaster in history.  (It’s fascinating, from a Risk Management standpoint---Enterprise Risk Management---what did the BP Risk Manager do to prepare his/her organization for this?  What insurance coverages did they have?  What are the contracts between them and Transocean?  What did the RM do to prepare the organization from potentially fatal litigation?  This one will go down in insurance lore like Bhopal and the Union Carbide asbestosis claims).  I claim to be a semi-environmentalist, but then, you’ll get my 21 mpg van when you can pry the keys from my cold, dead fingers.

Then, of course, there is the Great Recession.  In hindsight, it was easy to see that it was coming.  At the time, not so much.

How on earth would you have predicted all this stuff?  If you did, why didn’t you tell the rest of us???  And, would we have listened if you did?

I’ve had a pretty crappy last few years (with a couple of years of lovely exception).  Everybody I know has had a crappy last two years, without exception.

>>o<<

As I write this, I’m sitting on my patio.  It’s early morning Sunday morning.  I’ve got a cup of steaming coffee on the table beside me.  My dogs are lounging in their most lazy fashion.  The doves are calling back and forth (this is south Texas), and a mockingbird is singing in a nearby tree.  There’s a little light breeze off the Gulf.  I’ve got some hibiscus and bougainvillea to pot this morning (to replace those which were destroyed this last harsh winter), and a new hosta to replace the one that finally died in my Grandmother’s old wash pot (it was the same age as me, and I managed to kill it).  It’s going to be hot and muggy in Houston today (news flash). 

The sun came up.  Life goes on.  What’s next?

 

It Is Well With My Soul

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Horatio Spafford

(click the title of this piece above if you don’t know the history)

What an eventful day (and not in a good way)

Customarily, when the alarm goes off at 5:30, I suddenly have three BC's in the bed with me saying, "Dad!  Wake up and pet us!" and a corollary:  "...and we REALLY need to go out." 

So I get up and stagger to the back door and let them out.  They run around and bark and pee and poop while I fix coffee and do other morning chores.  While it's still cool enough, I join them on the patio for coffee (coffee for me, chewies for them).

This morning, however, I had a lot of work to do, so I let them out as normal.  When I finally got up from the computer to go shower and change prior to heading for the office, I glanced out (as I always do) at them.  They were sitting there looking at me and the gate, as usual, was closed.

As I arrived at the bathroom to start my get-ready process (my bathroom is on the back side of the house), I heard a lot of barking.  This usually means, "A marauding squirrel!"  or "Look!  A bird!".  I didn't pay any attention.

I came back to the back door to let them in---and the gate was open and Lucy and Ethel were nowhere to be found.  Bessie was standing at the back door, frantic.  Let her in, then went off in search of the others. 

Long story short:  3 hours of driving around frantically, panic setting in (I live in Houston; dogs don't last on the major streets here), I realize that their tags have my old cell phone number (employer changed it in February); even if somebody found the dogs, they couldn't call me.

I called the old cell phone number and got this nice lady; I introduced myself to her and she said, "Are you missing some dogs? I've gotten a call on them, let me look at my caller ID and you can call them."  So she did and I did.

These two nice ladies, dog rescuers, saw my dogs running across the major intersection near my house.  The ladies stopped and called and Lucy and Ethel came right over.  They called the number on the tags, then put the dogs in the back of their Lexus and were contemplating their next move when I called them.

Morals of the story:

• Always have the numbers on the tags up to date.  (They're chipped, too, but still...).
• There is still good in the world.  Nice ladies, to stop traffic in the busy intersection while they got the dogs out of harm's way.
• I'm going to call Reliant Energy and we are going to have a "disCUSSion" about their meter reader.
• Bessie has earned her stripes.  The others departed and she stayed home.  This the second time she's done that.  She's been my rescue pup and I've been trying to adopt her out.  No more.  She's home.  I don't know what the HOA is going to say, but we'll work it out.

and I'm really, really glad to have my dogs back.  I don't ever want to go through that again.

Thank you, nice ladies who rescued my dogs, and nice lady who has my old cell phone number.  I offered a reward to each; they declined.  I offered a dozen red roses each; they declined.  I was so obviously relieved, as I turned to leave I heard one say to the other, “Aww, that worked out nicely!” 

All I can say is, “Thank you, ladies”.

Lucy

Ethel:

 

Bessie:

Elite 8, 2010

Where have all the cowboys gone?

When I started thinking about moving back to Houston, I immediately consulted the Houston City-Data board.  City-Data gives all kinds of information on different places; cost of living, statistics, weather patterns, etc.  They also have forums for every location in the country.  The forums are a kind of internet “information, please” deal.  People talk about their city, the good, the bad, and the ugly.  There are always people from other areas relocating to the city, and asking questions of the locals.  Since I love being a tour guide….

I hadn’t intended on staying on the forum, but it kind of grows on you and, like every other internet community, once you learn the different personalities of the “regulars”, it gets to be fun.  Our forum has one individual who takes these wonderful walking tours and posts great pictures of the city; we have everything from doctors and lawyers to realtors to cops to street thugs.

Tonight’s forum had a question from some Floridians moving to Texas; I responded to their post.  I hadn’t intended to write an opus, but got started and, well, those who know me from Razorback forums know how that goes with me.  So, since I’ve been stumped for a blog topic, I decided, “Why not?” 

Their question: 

We're relocating for work from overdeveloped Boca Raton, Florida and really want to find a friendly western town, cowboy boots and horses and all. Can we find this in Conroe or surrounding areas?

My answer: 

(hint: look at a map of Texas while reading this post)

Really, you're going to need to be pretty far out of Conroe to get out to the actual "country". Conroe is effectively a big, semi-distant suburb of Houston.

As an example (I'm not as familiar with the northern areas as I am the western ones), going west on IH-10, you've got to get past Columbus (an hour and a half from my house in West Houston, through some of the densest traffic in North America) to actually get into "horse country". Between Columbus and Katy USED to be, say 20 years ago, but at this point, Brookshire and Sealy are already "gone", the development real estate signs are out everywhere.

My sister and her husband have a place at Flatonia (Flatonia is almost exactly halfway between downtown Houston and downtown San Antonio), 96 miles from Houston.

When they were looking for their place, they sounded exactly like you ("We're sick of Houston! But we like the money we get from our excellent jobs!") "Acreage" places were more expensive every mile closer to Houston they got. Everybody wants "5 acres out in the country." Well, 5 acres is not very much---that's still a subdivision. Country acreage gets into 50 acre tracts (pretty much minimum). When you're talking $1,000 an acre, okeydokey. When you're talking $50,000 an acre with a minimum of 50 acres.........

The aptly-named Centerville is exactly halfway between downtown Houston and downtown Dallas. You could probably get something decent in that area. Since you're going to commute to Conroe, that's not "terrible". Huntsville can get a bit trafficky at rush hour, and Willis (look on a map) is where the "Houston" traffic finally peters out....TODAY. In 10 years, Willis will be completely engulfed.

The Texas you're imagining is vanishing. It kind of petered out in the 60's. Development really took off in the 80's and 90's. When I was a kid in high school in San Antonio in the 70's, "West" Houston was IH-10 at Gessner Rd. and Highway 6 was known as "Jackrabbit Road". "North" Houston ended up around the new Intercontinental Airport and you drove through the woods a ways to get to the small town of Conroe. San Antonio stopped, you drove through countryside to the small town of New Braunfels, then more countryside to San Marcos, then more countryside to Austin. In north Austin, when you got to US 290, that was it until you got to the small town of Round Rock (countryside between Austin and Round Rock), then more country to Georgetown, then more country to Belton, etc.

 
Today, "Houston" extends to Willis on the north and Sealy on the west. IH 35 is one long, continuous suburb from San Antonio to Waco, punctuated by downtown Austin. Round Rock, Georgetown, all suburbs. Dallas and Ft. Worth, meanwhile, having finally grown together and merged with over 200 other cities into "the Metroplex", are trying desperately to reach Oklahoma--and will succeed in that, in my opinion, in my lifetime.

This part of Texas is now growing into one big urban "thing". In fact, Governor Perry's office (I'm not a fan; they stole the idea and videos from a private businessman from Ft. Worth who produced them) is marketing it currently as "one thing": the "Texaplex" (Dallas/Ft. Worth, Houston, San Antonio, Austin, with Waco, Huntsville, and College Station thrown in) (see videos below, they are fascinating). It has almost exact Florida counterparts: "Orlampa" (Tampa/St. Pete/Orlando) and "Florabama" (the entire Florida Panhandle). Of course, there is also the entire south Florida coast that we all refer to as "Miami" that goes from Palm Beach to Homestead.

 
The modern "cowboy" will most likely be driving his F-350, Silverado 3500HD, or Ram 3500 diesel dually. He'll wear a starched white button down oxford shirt, jeans, boots, and use an Excel Spreadsheet on his laptop (conveniently anchored to the fold-down armrest in his leather upholstered, late-model truck) to keep track of his herd (not to mention the production from his wells or his cotton crop). He'll use his cell phone to keep up with the antics of Bucky Junior at A&M, Texas, or Baylor while uplinking his production reports via air card. He'll drive to a modern, suburban-style house (admittedly pretty big), where his Suburban-driving wife will be organizing a party via facebook with her sorority sisters or church group (unless she's a lawyer with a degree from SMU, working from home).

 
Mostly, they keep and ride horses for fun.

Not trying to rain on your parade, but the "real Texas" that people talk about was always part myth anyway.

These days, you have to look pretty hard to find it.

>>o<<

The Texaplex videos:

Texaplex

Houston

 

An Exercise in Circumlocution…

In the preceding post, I attempted (hopefully with a bit of humor) to utilize every buzzword I had accumulated over the past few months.

I had inspiration for this type of effort early-on.  My Dad was sitting around work one day (man, they lived in a different universe than we do…) and came up with a little essay, which he presented to me upon my departure for Baylor.  Fortunately, I thought  it funny enough to stick it in a photo album.  It’s one of those old sticky page photo albums, so now the paper’s irrevocably attached (apparently at the molecular level) to the book.  Nevertheless, I still have the document.

>>o<<

AN EXERCISE IN CIRCUMLOCUTION FOR STUDENTS OF SECONDARY SCHOOLS

by Maurice Jones

     To obtain an education, whether in pursuit of your vocation or a pleasant avocation, or for your personal gratification there is required a degree of determination (and some professorial exhortation) to overcome the strong temptation to go into hibernation or indulge in abstract meditation during a student recitation or a professor’s dull narration.

     Despite a student’s prognostication that he will suffer from prostration or, at the least, regurgitation if he is forced into participation, it isn’t likely that all of his expostulation will force the administration to enter into negotiation concerning the assignation of a daily compilation of enlightening information.

     I say to you without equivocation that if your are planning matriculation, you should request elucidation on all subjects under consideration and refuse all invitations to indulge in excessive fraternization that would result in vacillation.

     If you will always practice excogitation your compensation at the termination of this period of melioration will be acclamation by your paternal relation and receipt of documentation which attests to your graduation.

>>o<<

 

Although everyone knows I'm addicted to my computer, I do not want to read books on it. One of my favourite books/short stories ever is "A Christmas Carol"; I've had many copies over the years, usually either lending them and not getting them back or just plain losing them. When I moved to Houston, I think my last copy went to the Malvern Library in one of the *47* cartons of books I gave them for their sale.

In any event, this year I needed to read it again and looked it up on the innerwebs. It's public domain, so there are various versions of it. I tried reading it online but finally wound up just printing the thing to read in my hand.

Somehow, a book is just comforting. I like books. I like the way they look; I like the way they feel; I like the way they smell. If it's an old, used book, I like the way it falls open to the previous owner's favourite part. If it's an old library book, it has that "library" smell, which is a comfort smell to me because of all the time I've spent in the library.   

I just like books.

In some ways, I feel sorry for the current crop of kiddos.  They might use books, but they use all the various search engines to find their subject matter.  When I was in school (to which I walked 5 miles in the snow…), one had to be organized to write a paper.  You had to spend hours in the library at the card catalogue, sifting through the thousands of cards to find the 2 or 3 books that had the information you needed, then go to that section of the library and find the books---and READ them (or at least skim them).  I’m not saying that way was better (you can have my computer when you pry my cold dead fingers off the keyboard), and I love Google, but there is something to be said for the skill needed to organize a manual search.  

As print media gives way to the inexorable force of the electron, certain things are being lost---and this loss is NOT an improvement.  Newspapers were the chronicles of mankind from the 17th century to the 21st.  Many editions are still available, and it’s fascinating to look at The Times archives and read about the ongoing difficulties in the Colonies, or India, or about something Disraeli or Churchill said yesterday.  These moldy old papers are still hanging around. 

I have a small brown paper bag on the bookshelf in my Den.  It contains all the letters my Dad wrote home to his parents and sisters during World War II (In another area, I have at least most of the letters he wrote Mother).  The letters are on that peculiar onionskin GI paper, and censored by government censors.  Now, my email output is about that much PER DAY, but it’s ephemeral---it doesn’t really record anything; it’s not an archive of thought.  It consists of blurbs, dribs, and drabs---little shots of thought here and there.  We’re losing letters altogether (when is the last time you took pen and paper and wrote one?).

All this electronic stuff is fantastic---right up until the power goes out.

 

>>o<<

If, for the next generation, Apple builds a bigger ipad, will it be a maxi-pad?

Buzzing Around

 

At work, we’re in a huge state of transition; the company for which I’ve worked for the last 6 months lost their contract, effective 1-31-10; the new company was kind enough to offer me a job with them (same office, same everything, but February 1 I’ll be employed by a different company).  We’ve been working like demons to make sure the transition is as “seamless” as possible, but this is a whole big bunch like a divorce:  everybody’s trying to be very nice and very professional, but the old company doesn’t like it one bit and the new company is anxious to get started, with “us kids” (my staff and me) in the middle. 

We’re ripping out the old office stuff and installing new; it’s got to be coordinated like D-Day; all the old ties need to be dissolved and all the new established---not just furniture and equipment (that’s fairly easy), but mapping thousands of computer fields, transitioning to completely different vendors, computer software, trying to fit square pegs into round holes, coordinating training and “onboarding” for staff, while trying to carry on with “normal” business.  I’m not solely responsible for all of this, not by a long shot, but I am involved in every one of the decisions; I’m a guest on every one of the 10,000 conference calls; I have to try to explain to the staff where we’re going and how we’re going to do it so they can push it out to the public….I’ve been getting home around 8 o’clock every night, eating something, and crashing.

 

In the process, I’ve learnt many new and fun with which you can both baffle and amuse your little friends!

“Granular”---imagine yourself on a beautiful beach; the white sand, the blue sky….so when you look at the beach, are you seeing one thing (the beach) or 10,000,000,000,000,000 things (each individual grain of sand)?  If you’re seeing all the granules, you’re getting “granular”.  So to “get granular” (short for “getting down to the granular level”, which is also used and technically correct while already being a bit passé) with regard to work means you are examining a thing at the microscopic, or lowest possible, level.  We’ve been “granular” a lot these last two weeks.  Conversely, you can stop someone cold by saying, “I’m not trying to get that granular here; I’m looking at the Big Picture.”  (It is still acceptable to look at the Big Picture).

“Deliverables”---I owe you an Excel Spreadsheet, or some data, or a return phone call regarding a question you asked that I can’t answer.  I have a “Deliverable” for you.  (Question asked often this week by all:  “Let’s see, do I have any Deliverables for you?”).

“Onboarding” (and its kinda/sorta counterpart, “reverse takeover”).  We are “onboarding” with the new company, while experiencing a “reverse takeover” with the old one.  In order to onboard correctly, we must remember to “ramp up” our knowledge base while “retrofitting” those things that do work but must be made to fit in with the new order.

“Process Map”---this is a “flowchart” with a swanky new moniker!  I’ve been designing Process Maps for YEARS and didn’t even know!

“Throw (insert name here) under the bus…”---if someone has to be thrown under the bus, hope it’s not you!  This is a new expression for a time-honored human practice:  scapegoating!  “Can you believe Fred just threw Barbara under the bus during that conference call???"  “Now look, I don’t want to throw old Fred under the bus here, but it WAS his department’s failure that caused this fiasco….”  “Barbara is trying to throw me under the bus on this thing, and I don’t like it even a little bit!”

“It is what it is”---ok, guilty as charged on this one, I use it 100 times a day.  “We can’t change that, it is what it is.”

“Circle back”---this means, “get back with” or “meet again to discuss this issue after we’ve both had a chance to check on the things we need to find out”.  “Janet, let’s circle back on Thursday, between “Calls” (short for “Conference Call”), on this issue, ok?  Now, will you need to circle back with Pierre before you circle back with me?”

And, not exactly a buzzword, but dreaded words for everyone in business in this era of conference calls taking up most of the day (to the point where you can’t get to your email!):  “(beep) Who just joined?”  We have conference calls with 20 people in 4 time zones; most just “mute out”, that is to say, mute their microphones and go on about whatever it is they’re doing; this is exceptionally annoying when someone has asked a complicated, 5-minute question and then said, “…isn’t that right, Janet?” and Janet, who is responsible for the answer but has been doing email, says, “I’m sorry, could you repeat the question?”

Honestly, at the end of the day, in order to break through the clutter and make it “pop”, I pick the low-hanging fruit by synergistically utilizing our human assets and integrating our Best Practices into the new paradigm, while not neglecting our Core Competencies. I have to herd cats in a seamless, integrated fashion while simultaneously ensuring that mission-critical, client-focused events stay on track and are timeline-compliant going forward. In order to accomplish this fast-track infrastructure retrofit, while ensuring that the analytics, metrics and logistics are taken together in a holistic, organic manner, great care must be exercised to avoid silo mentality and ensure granular-level co-opetition between ourselves and our business partners, being ever-mindful of the long tail that, if ignored, can have a catastrophic effect on the enterprise long-term. 

In other words, I’m basting the turkey and boiling the ocean here; I don’t have time to worry about a damn blog entry!   ;-)

(Think I’ll take a little bow on those last two paragraphs; I worked hard on them and they DO actually describe reality for me right now).

For those iphone users:  there’s an app for that.

 

Alas, Greycliff

The Original Giovanni

 

Photos by my cousin Cathy Fink, 1-17-2010