Monday, June 27, 2011

Dallas Morning News

The FBI is serving a search warrant at the Dallas County commissioner’s offices in downtown Dallas, sources say. More details to come.


In my email - I just got this notice from the Dallas Morning News -- "yippers" (Bro Jim's famous word), the newspaper is going to be more fun to read soon.

You'd think conflicts would settle down once in a while. Just give us one month of peace - just one month...oh, wait, I don't live in Dallas County.  I wonder if the local TV stations will be there with helicopters like following OJ down the highway.   I do hope so.  That would prempt Oprah and all the soaps.   GLORY BE !!!

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Greta the snake dog again

Greta, the snake dog, has struck again.

I mowed the dog pit and other level areas up next to the house this morning. It was only 80 degrees - the wind was blowing - only had to use 2 sweat bands to finish the project.   Not too bad considering.

I had only made one small pass in the dog Pit when I upset a small copperhead - it still had its lime green tail. Before any dog saw it - the critter was stomped into the ground till he became deceased (dead for those of you who need definitions).  In case you are curious, I am a right footed snake stomper.)    I grabbed it by the tail and showed it to Oscar - he jumped back as quick and far as he could. good dog. He was bit last year.

Next Bruno had a sniff. He didn't jump back until I made loud noises and waved it in his face. He was more cautious on the 2nd sniff. He was bit last year on the nose.

Fritz was next in line. He back off too. But, he did want to take a short sniff. Fritz was bit last year.

Liesl moved up to take a gander and moved away fairly fast. She ain't nobody's fool either. Liesl was bit last year.

Greta was 30 to 40 yards away at the bottom of the hill.  She looked up and saw that snake dangling from my hands.  She made a bee-line for me and jumped up to grab it. Keeping in mind that she weighs under 10 lbs and is only 8 inches or so tall, her leap into the air didn't score a hit.  Greta followed me to the fence banging on my leg, leaping with furor - but to no avail.  The snake went over the fence - I demonstrated my empty hands to her - and she was satisfied. Greta was bit last year on the side of her tongue.
The flat areas on top of the hill were mowed.  Fired up my weed eater to clean up the area and eliminate potential snake habitats.  Not 2 minutes into the work, I looked up to see my wife bolting out of the house to grab a shovel.  Right there on the porch Greta had another of the varmits.  The snake had already been bit in semi-half at this time when I saw Greta (followed nearby by Fritz) grab and shake the snake - throwing it back to the cement. My wife was there by this time striking that copperhead over and over with the shovel.  It stopped moving.

When you see your own wife handle a shovel like that - it gives you pause about complaining about lunch - or other household matters.   One must use caution around snakes and wives.   She scooped the snake up on the shovel, and I discarded it over the fence.  Two down.

It wasn't long till BJ interrupted my weed eating for help getting a benedryl inside Greta's mouth.   Yes, BIG G was bit either on the tongue, side of her mouth, or somewhere nearby.  There was a bit of blood.  Called the vet.  BJ took her to town for an alergy type shot (see misspelling of Benedryl above) == and back to the house. Greta is resting - there is some fresh blood around her lip - she has had pain pills and other medicine.  The vet told us she'd probably be okay.

And, you know, if you put another snake down in front of her - she would attack that thing without any thought of danger. She is a midget hunter and killer of all things "not dog."  Wish I could teach her to use a shovel.

m3 / mtz

Monday, June 20, 2011


I am not sure of all of the towns I lived in as a child. I know that I was born in Tecumseh, Okla. I was in that town a few years ago, and my statue still has not been finished. You would think they would get that finished.

I do know that certain town names exist in my childhood memory bank. Both of my parents - at one time or another - were band directors. My mom was a violin player through her early years - piano too, I'd guess. Her father, my grandfather, was a barber in a small western Oklahoma town which now lies under a man made lake. Webb City was a nice place I'd imagine. Hopefully, my brother Jim or some of my cousins who read this will add some knowledge to all of this.

My grandmother - as most ladies of that era - stayed at home cooking, gardening, cleaning and whatever else they did in the early 1900s in Oklahoma. As an elementary aged kid, we would visit that small town. There was an old barber chair in the back yard - one of the only forms of amusement. We would climb into the chair and others would spin us around and around. Being dizzy in those days was like sniffing glue with less long term wear and tear.

I remember one particular day in that lovely place, we were walking from some point to another with our cousins - I'd guess Danny, Lee, and whoever. We came upon an old house surrounded by a fence and tall weeds. The house had a metal roof as I remember. It was really an old piece of trash. My cousins started spinning a story (pardon me, a stone) about the lady who lived there - crazy & the house was haunted. Now this story must have made quite an impression on this city boy cause I remember it to this day. I was quite innocent.

Some day I must write about my grandparents - both sides of the family. Just not tonight....

Woodward Okla - We lived there for a while - moved to OK City - and Woodward was destroyed by a tornado. The tornado hit in 1947. If you care to read a bit of history try:

it started near White Deer, TX and ended in Kansas. It was 1.8 miles wide when it hit Woodward and destroyed 340 houses. I missed it. This was good.

Related bit:  When I taught in Ardmore, OK for 10 year we made the playoffs and playoffs and playoffs.   Late in the process we traveled to Woodward for a game.  It started snowing and was miserable.   The Woodward halftime show was a tribute to the tornado and the people who died.   The tribute indicates a morbid memory for some of the townsfolks.   Yet, if you go to the Woodward City website - nothing is mentioned.   Some try to forge they live in the middle of tornado alley.

This has become too long - so I will continue my excursion into the past at a later date. Stay tuned for Dodge City - Crete, Neb. - Odessa and many more.

one last bit of no importance. I was born in Tecumseh, Okla. My mom was the band director at the time. Bro Jim is 16 months older than I. My brother Marshall was the band mascot - somewhere is a photo of him in a little drum major suit with a baton - posed. Putting him in the suit was probably cheaper than getting a baby sitter for games.

Mom used to talk about taking her band to marching contest in those days. She talked about winning these contests. She would have her majorettes (not twirlers, but majorettes) do a flip / cartwheel in front of the judges area. She swore this is why she won. You can form your own opinion. An aside: in 1940, a cartwheel in front of the judge might have carried more weight than actual music. Y'never know.

Monday, June 13, 2011

buggy -fire -one penny

Today was a bit different than my normal get up - eat breakfast - watch TV - water the yard - feed Fritz his supper - more TV - maybe a nap - read the paper - eat my other meals - and so forth.

1st of all I woke at 7:30 - now that is pushing me a bit. At 10:30 the 2 brothers from Farmer's Exterminators showed up. Our precious 5 pups were caged in the living room as the two guys began their daily tasks - they do this day in and day out. The oldest Stan works the inside of the house squirting around all baseboards. He told me that he has been doing this for 39 years, his brother for 37 years -- after they graduated from college. I would be they both graduated from A&M with a buggy degree.

Their truck shoots out a liquid that can reach the top of my house and coat the entire exterior - of course they did the boat dock & boat too.  Last week I power washed the house (only the outside, turkey face) - and ended up killing a black widow on the back porch. In the past 2 weeks I have killed 4 scorpions INSIDE the house and another 3 in the garage. It was time to spray.

My only issue is the killing of butterflies who might stop in for a little nectar this afternoon. Bothers me somewhat - I always figured that IF ONE believes in reincarnation, one of these butterflies is my mom visiting. I try to speak to each butterfly with a bit of reference.

One full hour of spraying. They left. The dogs are still caged. Can't let them out until everything has dried.

I asked the guy, "'when I water the yard and the water gets up on the house, will it wash off the spray?"    He said that I might get it off with a power washer, but otherwise, it remains for about a year. Now, that is tuff. (misspelled tough, so I could look cool - pronounced KUL).
I got in a 2 hour nap. Right after I awoke, the phone rang. It was Lelanie from next door. If I understood the sequence - was still a bit groggy from waking up --- Her daughter (who is at camp) texted Lelanie saying she had a text from someone else stating that there is a fire in our housing development and Lelanie's house was on fire. I carried the phone outside to see - no fire next door - no smoke in the distance. The wife & I lumped into the car and began to check out things.

Down the block & towards the entrance fire trucks - it was a grass fire and trees of course. They had it beat down. 4 different volunteer fire departments were here squirting, flashing lights, you name it. It was busy. They had two big caterpiller type earth movers creating fire breaks.

A neighbor down the street was out in the unburned field holding a rake. He gave me a few comments, ( he is a talker ) which I now shall list:
1. The fire probably burned at least 500 acres.
2. The fire was heading north behind "that" house and starting to turn towards the lake (my house area)
3. I used to be in the volunteer fire department but I quit. They never would give me a radio and I worked bad hours (at the post office) which interfered with me getting to fires.
4. We hear there is a little blue car driving around the county throwing out fire.
Then he told us about a couple more fires the volunteers left to go put out.

So that was another bullet we dodged today.
One last thing - totally unrelated -- went to Waxahachie for new tires on Sat. Killing time till lunch hour, dropped into best buy. I talked to a telephone guy, looked at the TVs, mosy-ed through the store and stopped off at the video games. I like stupid games which take little skill. I don't do the story games - just point and shoot. You match 3 objects and blow them up. Hey, if it costs more than $10, I won't buy it. PC games only.

This is the point of this stone. I picked up a game called butterfly king. I check the pricing label. They had it priced at one cent. I looked twice. It was in a pile of $4.99 games - one cent. Took that rascal and one other cheap game to the front. Bought it for one penny.

This makes me think that other things in that store are priced like that - you just have to research while you are in the store.

that's all


Breakfast Bluz (cute spelling to catch your eye)

Sometimes I plan out a blog  -  what I'm gonna scribble - type = not this time.  Before I get off on that, just had a wondering thought.  Obviously guy, I am not scribbling.  In  a previous life I would have typed this but, no, I am using my keyboard to scribble/type ..... Would that be called Keying - or Keyboarding (not to be confused with water boarding)  - or just boarding -nah, that would be stupid.   There must be a proper term recognized by the computer nerds.

On to Breakfast.  When I got the diabetes thing, my doc sent me to a session with a diet type lady (paid for by my government ) - The wife and I spent the full day in class learning the pros and cons of carbs.  For breakfast I have a limited number of carbs to consume. 

(aside note, Sue, the dog next door, has begun to bark into the night - makes one wonder why - but more than that - I fear that Bruno will awaken and begin his call of the wild)  moving on.

So I have calculated my morning carbs and have taken to eating Grape Nuts for breakfast.   I get 3/4 cup of grapenuts with 3/4 cup of 2% milk - and a sprinkling of fake sugar stuff - the one in the yellow package.  Each morning, same ritual - going on 3 years now.  The 2% milk is a bit of a splurge - I have been called a "wild" man.  The diet folks would much prefer I use fat free milk, you do know that fat free milk is merely water with some type of white cake coloring, chalk perhaps.  1% is not much better.  I can fool myself with the 2%,  and I do.

Certainly I have briefly changed this routine over the past 3 years when we have company in the house.  Eggs with some type of meat and one piece of toast - yeah, I am one fun reckless guy.

Simply cannot remember eating breakfast as a young child; surely we did.  I remember visiting relatives and having big breakfastseseseses.  In H.S. my brothers and I pretty much scarfed down a bowl of cereal as we bolted for the door.  I remember eating Cherrios forever -- then, Wheaties and Rice Crispies.  I can even remember my Raisen Brand period where they were eaten as a staple and those wheat thingys - big blocks of scratching  wheat - forget the name...maybe later.  My folks tried to get us into Special K.  Get Serious.

aside note - I misspelled Raisen Brand.  That is funny; well, to me it is.  Slowing down on the typing would help or slowing down on the keyboarding  (see above).  The most fun was getting a prize in the cereal box. and reading and rereading and rerereading the cereal box every morning - that would be EVERY morning.  By the time you finished a box of cereal, you could recite the entire box better than your required recitative of the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner  or  "Under the spreading chestnut tree, a village smithy stands..."

Mom would cook pancakes on weekends.  I can't have them now.   She could make some really nice hotcakes with bacon usually.  Syrup was different to us.  We used Karo syrup not the Mrs. Butterworth etc. stuff we see today.  I love and do miss Karo syrup even to this day, white or dark - doesn't matter.  Good stuff.  As I aged, my intake of pancakes went down.  I'd be lucky to finish off one good size hotcake today - if allowed.  Back then, I remember, each one of us boys would finish off six hotcakes.  Six was the magical number.  Couldn't do that now if I had to.  Yep, miss those days.

When I went off to college and stayed in the dorm, I got up on the first day of class as a Freshman and hit the cafeteria for breakfast.  I had scrambled eggs.  I remember this well.  The eggs were filled with shells.  I lived in that dorm for only one full year.   Never did I eat breakfast again in the cafeteria.  Never.  

Breakfast at Tech evolved into a Coke and a candy bar.  Giant size Baby Ruth bars cost a dime.  That would fill me up and get me to class on time.  It is hard to believe that I ate so many Baby Ruth candy bars in those days.  Sometimes, I would substitute a snickers or Butterfinger.  Man, those are good.  When you eat a Butterfinger, you use your top teeth to scrape off the chocolate.  Once you get down to the peanut butter bar part, then you can chomp down.  

To sumarize, there were many years of band directing when I went to school after drinking one large glass of chocolate milk.  I needed nothing else.  It is a wonder that any of us lived past the age of 18.  With that, close time.

I'll think of something else to add at a later date.   What did you use to have for breakfast???


Saturday, June 11, 2011

I M dog stone

Tonight I was doing the IM thingy with my Bro Jim. Here is the exchange.


Bro J (10:49 P.M.]: "Flea Man", a new series on TV starts Friday on Natgeo. He shows people how to price stuff at flea markets

Me [10:50 P.M.]: sounds interesting - but will he inventory my garage first?

Bro J [10:51 P.M.]: that's what he's going to do for other folks

Me [10:51 P.M.]: okay dokey

Me [10:52 P.M.]: went to Waxahachie yesterday to get new tires to replace the one that blew out the day before. We ate at Ryans (another Golden Corral type)

Bro J [10:52 P.M.]: yeppirs

Me [10:52 P.M.]: one of their bits is - is they bring hot rolls to your table - unasked for - unsolicited - big ole golden topped rolls - gorgeous.

Bro J [10:52 P.M.]: Golden Corral used to do that

Me [10:53 P.M.]: Thanks to me having to limit my carb intake, I don't get to eat rolls - really, I choose to not eat a roll so I can eat other stuff = so we ended up with one extra roll -- wrapped it in a napkin or two and just took it home. It seemed like the thing to do since it would go into the trash at Ryans. Wife carried it home in her purse.

Bro J [10:53 P.M.]: wonder how many people do that?

Me [10:54 P.M.]: as you may remember, my pups Liesl and Greta sleep near and under and around our bed at night - rugs & pillows on floor are comfy

Bro J [10:54 P.M.]: I've seen little old ladies wrap pieces of meat up in napkins to take home for their next meal

Bro J [10:54 P.M.]: they try to hide it, but...

Bro J [10:54 P.M.]: yeah i remember

Me [10:55 P.M.]: at our Corsicana Sirloin Stockade one Sunday lunch, this old couple sat across from us. She went back to the counter TWICE and brought extra food to their table - which she dutifully wrapped up & took home -- two big extra loads mind you

Bro J [10:57 P.M.]: and she didn't try to hide it?

Me [10:57 P.M.]: The wife heard Liesl (she thinks) last night scratching the little rug on her side of the bed - making a nest to sleep (and no, the lady was not hiding it at all)

Me [10:58 P.M.]: This morning, my wife had to clean up a bunch of tiny tiny pieces of paper beside the bed - wanna guess why?

Bro J [10:58 P.M.]: my dogs do that all the time

Bro J [10:58 P.M.]: why

Me [10:58 P.M.]: The spouseroo forgot to remove the roll from her purse - Big L found it in the middle of the night and had a feast

Bro J [10:59 P.M.]: hilarious

Bro J [10:59 P.M.]: now that's a stone

Me [11:03 P.M.]: Watching that TRU channel TV show about dumbest whatevers - and these morons vote.


thus endeth the stone.


Friday, June 10, 2011

The snake dog & Fritz

y'know (y'know) sometimes it seems like it will never end. It is just one thing after another.  Lemme tell you that Greta, the snake dog (see previous blogs), has struck again. This time it was not a snake.

We were gone most of the day, getting home in time to feed Fritz at 5 p.m.  That boy has a problem with 5:01, and he has an inner clock.  They ate.  We went out back as I read the paper on the back porch under the full-blowing ceiling fan.  When the sweat began to pour down my nose, all of us went in for me to finish off yesterdays beef stew - a delight in which I delight.  Eventually I tired of 5 dogs watching me scarf down my stew and shooed them back outside.

Finished eating, put dishes in sink, started mixing another glass of tea and I looked out the back window. Down in the far corner of the yard I could Greta and Fritz fighting over something. She had one end; Fritz had the other; and they were bouncing all over the place. The other three pups were in the area but not battling for a hold. It seemed to be a 2 dog encounter.

I yelled, "the dogs have something!" - grabbed a hoe and moved down the back hill as safely as I could muster - the spouse was behind me toting a rake.  Some of you may not recognize as a hoe and rake being defensive weapons.  Well, they are.   Now we were fit for battle.  It was not till I was within 5 feet that I saw the varmit - an armadillo - small but still....    I moved Greta off the critter with the wooden handle of the hoe and turned my attention to Fritz who had the thing by the base of its tail. I could see blood on the side of the animal, but it was moving and trying to flee.

I grabbed Fritz (BJ had Greta by the throat by now) and started prying his mouth open with my fingers- y'know at the back of his jaw. It took a moment but he lost the grip and the armadillo start to scurry away - not good enough. Fritz grabbed him around the chest - armor and all - and held on. My plan was flawed. I lifted big Fritz (he weighs around 17 lbs) and held him over the fence, critter hanging over the proper area - once again, I shoved my fingers into the side of his mouth till it opened. The animal rolled to the ground and started moving out.  Last seen he was bounding over the crest of the hill into the wilderness.

That was the end of my day - The blood on Fritz's and Greta's chops have been since licked off gallantly. These dogs have no concept of fear. I do.

Greta the snake dog
Fritz the Armadillo Assassin

more later

to tire or to retire - that is the question

so the wife & I took a little trip to Tyler yesterday to look at roses and go to a couple of estate sales. We bought little - nothing really - it was an outing to get out of the house.

Coming back - on the loop around Athens - my right front tire exploded. I was moving at 65 mph. The car handled pretty well consider I had only 3 tires working. I moved to the right side of the road to the shoulder. It was (give or take ) 5000 degrees F. outside. Since I had had the other tire experience last month, I had a process worked out, and it did not take too long. Another Big Gulp came within 10 miles of the big bang.

Here is the bit - the entire tread came off in one big round piece. It moved inside the wheels and hung on the axle. All that was left was the wheel and about 2 inches of rubber sidewall on the in and outside of the tire. I have never seen tread come off in one piece. Of course, wrapped on the inside of the wheel, the tread messed with the ABS - automatic braking system - yellow warning light on dash.

My spare is okay so we limped home - steering wheel shaking back and forth like perhaps there was a tire balance or wheel alignment problem. In the driveway I took photos which will come at a later date. Looking at the good front left tire, I discovered wire sticking out on the inside of the tire. The outside of the tire looked just fine to me - the wire was hidden just a little bit down on the inside of the tire.

This morning we took the car into my favorite repair place Eagle Motor etc. I love this place. Always - I MEAN ALWAYS - these guys have worked for me in a 100% great way. The guy even remembers my name. And he does what needs to be done - nothing more. This time he found the ABS wire had come loose. He repaired it.....didn't sell me a new one....get this, he repaired the old one. He could have sold me the whole system, sensor -wire - and you name it. Nope, just repaired the connection. For all I know, he may simply have plugged it back in. I don't know how these things are connected - but still, he didn't sell me a whole new system. He likes my Marauder.

When was the last time you had a car fixed for $61.30? Amazing. We drove to Waxahachie and bought 2 new tires and had a front end alignment at Discount Tire. Next we drove 2 blocks down the street to National Tire & Battery where I ordered 2 new tires for the rear. He said they would be in next Wednesday. This evening (around 6) they called - the tires were in. Guess what we are doing tomorrow. Note that I have not talked about the cost of tires.

Because the Marauder used Z rated (or thereabouts) low profile tires - these tires are softer than the normal tire. The tires are rated for about 20 to 30,000 miles TOPS.

When will it all end? If it isn't one thing, it is another. The good thing -if there is one - gas at Waxahachie's Wal-mart was $3.41. Somehow, that is bitter sweet.

Pity accepted.


Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Band Problem

Read my first email regarding my Nephew Stephen's book.  It is worth the trip.

Started reading emails tonight.  There was a notice from my bank that I had a problem with my debit card.  They call this an email alert.  Not being anyone's foo -- I closed that message and went to the bank's website and signed in....there was the alert again on their website.

It seems that somebody has my debit card info and has used my debit card 4 times in Jamaica NY and there abouts.

TVM Jamaica NY  for $40  == I understand this is some type of transportation place.
3 different ones  from MTA Vending machines for $104 each    in  NY

The bank caught it and cancelled my debit card.  Now, I think that is pretty dang good.  Amazing even.   I will go down and get me a new card and will continue spending money.  But how did they get my stuff?  I only use the debit card at specific places.  But a couple of days ago I used it at a local jewelry shop run by a guy that must 485 years old.   He had a new machine and frankly didn't know how to use it right.  I had to teach him how to use his machine.  This could sound a bit phony.

The lady on the phone went throug the reasons like something on the front of my atm machine -- possibly someone at the bank is a crook -- and so forth.   I just don't know.  I get all my money back so I suppose all will be fine.

To get my money I do have to call the dispute dept. tomorrow sometime.  That should be fun.

late -- nighty night

Steven Metze

doing 2 blogs in a row - see this one, then see the other.

My Nephew Steve has completed this book.  Looks fun to me.   Everyone needs to own one of these, now don't they???    Tell the Publisher!   I’d like to read this book on Kindle

The Zombie Monologues [Paperback]

Steven E Metze (Author)
Editorial Reviews    -----   Product Description

Dr. Clyde Marshall is the world’s first zombie psychiatrist, and he’s discovered a way to tap into the still-human subconscious thoughts of the living dead. Found here are his recovered transcripts from the Necrotizing Ambulation Disorder (NAD) Psychological Laboratory Facility “To condemn this material is to condemn the true authors, the many undead who I subjected to hours of brain scanning and verbal interviews. They are the real storytellers. I only kept the record.”
Product Details
Paperback: 308 pages
Publisher: Dragonfire Press (June 2, 2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0615496032
ISBN-13: 978-0615496030

Product Dimensions: 8 x 5 x 0.7 inches
Shipping Weight: 14.4 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
Average Customer Review: 4.5 out of 5 stars See all reviews (2 customer reviews)
2 Reviews
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In Stock.    Ships from and sold by Gift-wrap available.


Corsicana is NOT a small town - well, yes it is.  Suppose it depends upon your daffynition of a small town.  Pop.  around 30K.   That's a lot larger than  Smyer or Opydyke.  Smaller than Dallas - but a good size town on I-45 headin' south.

We take the local newspaper:  Corsicana Daily Sun.  Essentially it fills a need, a bit of local news, smattering of national, some sports, advertisements, and a calendar of coming events.  If they could find a way to consolidate those events into a smaller listing, they'd have a full extra page to focus on ME!!!

But they don't.    There were a couple of notable items in the paper yesterday.  One was the announcement of a new Baseball coach for Corsicana, some hair cut short guy named  Heath Autrey.  I am sure he is a nice guy.  sure.  What I liked were the comments he gave the paper about taking over the baseball program - which I might add is probably 4 to 6 months from now.  Their season just ended for goodness sakes. 

Tell me, does this sound like a new coach or whut?   (copied from local paper - give credit where credit due)    "We're going to get after it," Autrey said.  "I want to get to know these guys on a personal level as fast as I can.  I want to know how to push each one of their buttons.  I want them to know that I'm here for them and I want to get on the same page and try to get our system in as fast as we can.  Then go  out and  try to win Game 1."

So I ask you (2nd question)...push each button??  get after it??  same page???  All that coaches talk then  "TRY"   to win game 1.  Now I think that is a tad negative.  What happened to SHALL WIN game 1?  The local supt. like his baseball knowled & philosophy dealing with hs kids.  It quote  "He's the total package."  Man I am ready for this to happen.

The other newspaper bit was a column by Dick Platt  titled Lady Gag!     He doesn't like her either.     If you want to read the full column, go to their website (Corsicana Daily Sun); bet it's there.
 In the column he named certain performers by their actual names.  I found that interesting so it is repeated below.  I know, I know - the info is probably on Google or wikifinks  - but who cares to look?

Lada Gaga -- is -- Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta
Cher            --  is -- Cherilyn Srkisian
Madonna    --  is -- Madonna Louise Cicone

The columnist had a couple of good lines:
1.   Did you hear about the horrific donnybrook between Cher and Madonna out in Hollywood?  It was so bad, they no longer are on a first-name basis.
2.  nope, that was it.  Just one.

but I did learn that Cher as severe dyslexic and quit school at 16.
Madonna was picked by Guinness World Records as one of the 25 most powerful women in the past century  (now that is scary)
And Time picked Gaga as one of the 100 most influential people in the world  (equally scary)


one final thing:   Account Services is calling my house all the time to lower my interest rates.  Since I am on the Do Not Call Registry, I keep reporting them.  Only once have their people not hung up on me when I requested to be removed from their calling list.  Yep, the Do Not Call Registry is doing a fine - typical government organization - fine job getting these people off the phone air waves.  Stupid jerks.  Next time I am going to talk to them more - just to waste time.  Where is my Whistle?

y'all take care now

Friday, June 3, 2011

Friday's Frolic

I am sitting here practicing my horn.  Since I was taken in by the Corsicana Swing Orchestra as its resident last chair trumpet, I have had to practice to try and stay even with the band.  There are some pretty fine musicians in this group.  So, I have to play my horn.  I like playing my horn so it its not a major issue frankly.

But my skills are down over the years.  Now I play about a page out of a method book, then, I must find something to do while the ole lips rest a moment.  Sometimes I play a video game on the puter - this  time I am writing these paragraphys.  It is all part of my great plan of survival.

On Wednesday, my wife & I drove west of town to an estate sale.  It was a 50s style house with 50s style furniture.  Really nice house.   On their washer was a stack of 6 trumpet method books.  Their copywrite dates were in the mid-50s making me think the previous own must be my general age. . . or older.  I snapped the books up for 50 cents each - a great buy for someone who needs to practice and has limited music to visit.  My favorite was the Saint-Jacome's Grand Method.  Another interesting one is the "60 Rambles For Trumpet" by Leon Lester (Philadelphia Orchestra) and adapted by Sigmund Hering (of the same) 60 short melodies pub. about 1955.  never seen that book - not a major surprise, since many music books have escape my observation.

Back to the Estate Sales:  this past couple of weeks we have gone to 3 estate sales.  It gets us out of the house, we learn the neighborhood better, and we can legally go through other people's stuff without being arrested.   My wife signed up on a website which sends notice of sales within 100 miles.

What I taking away from these sales, no, not items or junk, but how sad the estate sale is.  Here is a home that once had a full family living a full life.  Time moved in and now there is an empty house filled with stuff.  A stranger sits at the door taking your money as you cart prizes under your arm pit out the door.  So far we have bought 2 blankets for the dogs, an oil filter remover wrench, a lid off a broken jar, one bowl perfect for holding peanuts on the breakfast table, my music books, and not much else.  They are sad events I have decided.

Today's sale was in Kerens...5 miles over yonder way.  Gonna try to describe the place.  It was a small house, probably originally one bedroom.  The guy added on a room.  He added on a hall.  He added another room.  Down a couple of steps - a bedroom, another hall, a bath, a back porch, a side porch, a hole in the kitchen wall to the back porch, a covered shed,  a 30 ft covered area 6 1/2 ft tall leading to shed.  Two more back porches with storage, a converted garage, passage ways down the sids of the house, a front area with a jucuzi cover with plastic roof,  doors to nowhere, will stop here.  I am not sure the house had 1500 sq ft - maybe, it went everywhere, every room an inch or two up or down, concrete pour out of a wheelbarrow to make a floor - cannot explain.

Inside the house, junk everywhere.  The waterbed had a regular mattress and oxygen breathing tubes thrown about - on the bed table, a really large stack of Playboys.   Shelves were hammered on the walls.  I cannot explain any more.  He was the J P of that town for years.  Once he started building, he didn't know where or how to stop.  We were told a story about a lady who lived there with a guy who came down from Oregon - not the JP Feller, but another.  And now 2 boys inherit the place - they live hundreds of miles away.

It will take a shovel to empty that place.  My wife said to bring a bulldozer.  Considering all, the house was not dirty or smelly.  Too many old people and nobody to empty the place.  I pity my own children someday.

Many of my closest do not know that I have junk.  My junk and your junk are two different things of course.  My junk should be spelled junque because of its class.   I own maybe 3000 key rings.  Now there is something you prolly didn't know.  When my oldest daughter was in college majoring in Range and Wildlife, she became a member of the Texas Tech Plan Judgin Team.  She got to travel to Florida for a competition.  Naturally, being a good child, she brought me a present from Florida.  This is in the 1980s. 

When she gave it to me, I remember saying,  "I guess I am collecting key rings now."  It was an off the cuff remark.  From that one keyring, my pile has grown.  In this house, I have no place to display my keyrings.  They are in the garage.  I do love keyrings.  I do.

Many years prior, I was sitting in my mom's living room - Christmas, the whole family was there - my 3 little kids, BJ, etc.  It was a festival to be sure.   I made the off the cuff remark to my mom that I would like to own about 200 or 300 music boxes.  I quickly added that I did not want to acquire them one at a time - I wanted all 200 at one time.  It seemed like a request that could go ignored.  You're wrong.  I have around 300 music boxes.  It just happened.  No place in the house for them; stored in the garage getting dusty and spider ridden.  I do love music boxes.  I do.

So the question:
How long should a daily blog be?
Maybe more about collections tomorrow.
Maybe not.
It is very close to feeding time for Fritz (see yesterday's blug)

later guys

2nd day in a row

Two days in a row - write, write, write.

I might add that if you are expecting Chaucer or Steinbeck, you have the wrong blog.

Daughter Christine came to visit over the past weekend.  Most times when she travels, her dogs come along.  They do so much love our big back yard - so much to see and smell and bark at.  Should that read:  and things at which to bark.  Doesn't really matter in this time of my life, they enjoy the trip.  She has four dogs - all rescued from one thing or another.   They are lovable.  The latest is a small long hair doxie who has a hair prob - i.e., no hair.  Long hair dogs without hair must be embarrassed.  We are hoping a vet will cure this prob.

When she comes she carries a plastic box - you buy them at Walmart - gray, about 20 or 30 gal with a snap on lid.  No big deal, it is a stupid gray plastic box.  In it:  dry dog food,  dishes, a few chew sticks of various varieties  (cute expression, various varieties) and a couple cans of wet food for the oldest dog Wesley.  He has problems chomping down on dry food.  

When Christine left for home, she forgot her box of food.  It was setting in the breakfast area under yesterday's newspapers.  She'll survive till it returns to he pad.  

My wife had a yearly doctor appt this morning at 8:15.  Frankly, I cannot understand why she elects to have appts. so early in the morning.  I always choose 10:30 to noon.  So much better.  I awoke about 7:45.  She was already gone to town.  I struggled to fall out of bed.  My little Greta was sleeping on a cushion beside the bed.  She lifted her head to look at me, then plopped right back down for more rest.  This girl is MY girl -- she takes after her daddy.

The saga continues:  I opened the bedroom door and move towards the kitchen where the boys are locked up.   As soon as it comes in view, I heard a chomping noise.  FRITZ, the Eater, has moved the plastic box 10 feet, has it on its end with the top off  and his head is buried out of sight, chomping.   Forgive me, I yelled.

The twin boys were  against the other wall doing something.  I don't know what.

I don't know who ate what.  The dry food was less - there were no chewing sticks -
Fritz was there with a can opener working on the canned dog food.  Believe me, when it comes to dog food, that boy would learn to use a can opener.

The box has been moved to another room behind a locked door.  Later in the day, Fritz's belly looked stretch tighter than a snare drum.  One final note, supper time for dogs is 5 p.m. here.  At 4:45, Fritz was pacing and barking for us to get supper on the table.  That child does love to eat.

new subj.
My wife made me a blackberry cobbler.  It was made without sugar - used the sweetner stuff in the yellow packages since the doc's have limited my sugar intake.  I cannot tell that much difference
with or w/out real sugar.  It has been about 3 years since I had a big mouth of sugar.   Back to the cobbler....good, really good.  She makes a mean peach cobbler too - her mom was the champ when it came to cooking up a fattening meal.   I do miss that lady's happy meals.

About 2 miles from the house is a far which has blackberries and other stuffs.   Each year we buy enough to last till the next year.   It is time to replenish the supply in the freezer.  Jealous?


Thursday, June 2, 2011

rambling rose

has nothing to do with a rambling rose...

Today, June 1st - soon to be the 2nd.  The world is still operating and so am I.  Missed the opportunity to make fun of that guy who said the world would end.  That's okay.  He has changed the date since he undershot the first date.  Is it Oct. 21st?    What bothers me the most is that kooks like this give anti religious folks the opportunity to make fun of religion.   If you don't like religion, leave it alone.  Don't hassle the ones who enjoy it.  Sorta like homosexuals who are trying to sell their lifestyles as being normal.  Leave me alone; I will leave you alone.  Go do what you want...just quit trying to sell it to me.  Nuff.

The year - oh, make it years - is / are going by fast.  It seems like just yesterday that it was May 1st.  When I was teaching, late April and May were so busy.  And the kids just turned off their brains sometimes.  It was busy.  And when it ended, things were so quiet in the bandroom.  I was alone working on music stuff and the kids were out in the world.  This is not a pity party.  Seniors would graduate and leave.  It was like they died.  Some kid who spent every afternoon in the bandroom, graduates, leaves, and might come back sometime the next year.  

It the kid joined the armed forces, they would ALWAYS come back to the school in full uniform after basic training.  Really liked the ones in the cute little white navy outfits.  They were always so proud of the accomplishment, surviving basic training.  I never did that - I respect the fact they survived.

I was thinking today about an ex-student who will be having a birthday soon.  She graduated in 2004.  I would guess she was 18  (maybe 19) as she graduated.  It has been 7 years since she got out of school and I retired.  I am older - but, is she?  Nah, she is still 18.  She cannot be 25 yrs old.  It is mind boggling to know that my 18 yr old graduates over the years have all grown older.  Some are grand parents now.  Many are married with children.  I'd guess some are even band parents now.  I hope they give their directors a break once in a while.

I don't add to my blogs regularly enough.  I understand that good writers schedule their writing everyday.  This tells you something about my efforts.  As the day goes by, I ask:   To Essay or Not To Essay.  Not all essays have to be jewels.  It is the practice and doing that accounts for good writers finishing a project.

It is late.  Goodnight and Good Luck.