Pants

Pants. I have been wanting to write about pants - mine of course. I taught for 38 years then added a couple more sprints into the part time world. Depending upon who you are and when we met (if ever) my clothing varied.

.

I couldn't tell you what I wore as a little kid. That is completely void from my memory bank. I am sure we wore jeans. I know I wore jeans in high school and throughout college. Sure couldn't tell you the brand or shade. Back then, when your pants faded to light blue they were tossed. Faded or torn jeans were not acceptable to my crowd. I can remember having an iron-on patch once.

.

There were not a lot of places to buy clothes in those days - none of these fancy smancy clothing stores for teens that we have today IN THE MALL. We didn't have Malls. In my family, I'd guess most pants were bought at JC Penney or Sears. In the Panhandle we could buy upscale clothes at Dunlaps in Lubbock - my family didn't get clothes at Dunlaps, I can tell you fer sure.

.

Trying to think how to write this next bit. We did not wear coveralls or overalls. Overalls had the bibs with straps over the shoulder. Coveralls were one piece suits which Covered All. I think back to those days. Most of the kids wore the same type of blue jeans - the colors were the same...no blacks, no grays, no white or brown - just blue - probably Levis or Lees or the Penneys or Sears house brand - whatever that was called. I can remember a particular shade of blue that some friends wore back then. It was a special and different shade of blue. I couldn't even tell you the exact shade - y'know, having something to compare it with. But, in Levelland H.S. few people wore that shade of blue.

.

In recent times when I pick out a new pair of jeans, if I see that shade of blue, I will not buy it. It is not what we cool guys wore at Levelland High School { there could be an argument here if I was really a member of the cool crowd - let's just say for the moment that I was - just for argument's sake }. Today I will buy faded jeans in a heartbeat - or colored jeans of different hues - but that particular shade of blue, I just won't get it. Now, that is dumb. I make fun of teenagers and their tastes in clothes today.... what they "must" have. Suppose I was just as bad. Dumb, stupid kid.

.

In my first years teaching, I wore slacks, dress slacks so to speak. It was the day of double knit pants and I had several nice pair. Leisure suits came later. I can remember my favorite was a very dark blue pair - this was before the flair on the bottom [bell bottoms]. Double knit was amazingly comfy. They would stretch when you bent over. I remember buying my first pair towards the end of college, it was a clothing store across from the Hockley County courthouse to the west. Not Penneys or Sears. I cannot remember the name of that store. It may have been COBBS Department store. My mom pushed me to try a pair. I resisted. People always have to push me to make changes and that includes buying pants.

.

Over the years I evolved out of double knit and double knit with bell bottoms into the Docker type pants. Many of my students would only recognize me in Dockers. My big hangup with Dockers had to do with squatting. I would rip the zipper out all the time. I can remember doing that once during marching band practice - I don't know if my students ever knew - when I got inside I used 4,000 safety pins to put myself back together before the next class came in. At times my wife would try to sew them back together - never worked right. Still today I cringe when bending in my trousers especially if they are Dockers.

.

Another pant stone. Teaching in Ardmore we were leaving on a trip to Corpus. We performed in the competition ( made a I ) and traveled south to Padre Island for our overnights. I knew that I needed to be casual for the beach but just couldn't see myself in dress pants on the beach [ shorts were out of the question for me ]. We went out and bought me some light blue jeans. I was cool in my light blue jeans (not faded, but actual dyed light blue). On our first day walking the beach, I found a nice big rock to use as a chair as my band students frolicked in the surf. When I stood up, some mouthy kid asked me what was on my pants. I looked. Oil / Tar. My entire "sitting area" was tarred. I was so cool in my light blue pants with the tar on the rump. Never wore those pants again. Never sat on a beach rock again.

.

Since my graduation { retirement } in 2004, I have evolved back into jeans again. Yessir - that circle of life again ... I still have a few pair of Docker types for church and special, semi-dressup times - but I wear jeans over and over and to most places. Sometimes I feel guilty for the casualness or appearance of casualness of it all. Most of my ex-students would not recognize me in jeans. I was raised that teachers do not wear jeans. It is the "old" in me.

.

Came up with a brilliant plan in 2010: retired and poor. My jeans were getting crummy. On tax-free day we bought me 3 pair of new jeans, 3 varied shades of blue. Using a bold, black magic marker, I wrote on the inside waistband the words "New 2010." Those were hung up with care and worn only on special jean occasions. 2011 tax-free day came = 3 more pair = all labeled on the inside band "New 2011." Last August I bought 2 more pair. Now I own 8 pair of fairly good jeans - the old ones are piled for work outside.

.

Yep, the Circle of Life thingy strikes again: this week one of my 2010 pair has a hole just above the left rear pocket. They will be moved into the work pile for use when I don't have company - nobody needs to look at an old guy's underwear glowing through a hole in the seat of his jeans ... now, do they?

.

Finally for all of you who look for drama in your blug / blog readings - is this not dramatic? Will he buy 2 or 3 new pair August, 2013? What colors will he choose? Will other 2010 jeans grow holes or become unwearable? This is almost as exciting as "Who Shot J.R." Others of you will wonder when I will get a real life. I don't know the answer to that either. For now, this will have to do. Now quit panting and go back to work.

mtz

A P.S. Was in Wal*Mart this afternoon picking up a prescription for the spouse. Stood in line behind an older gent; he climbed out of the store electric cart to move forward. A dappy dresser, he was wearing the skinny leg double knit pants. They had a checked pattern in 5 or 6 different colors - primarily red. His belt was brown with big black diamonds through accented with bright silver eagles within. He did have a gorgeous black gnarly cane. But the best part (if anything can be better than 50 year old double knit leftover pants) his shoes. They were the old black tennis shoes with a white sole...high tops, I believe. These were worn by many a high school athlete in my h.s. days. High top black and white tennis shoes, multi-colored double knit pants and a flash long sleeve shirt....no tie...dark baseball cap. I tried to take a photo without being obvious - didn't work. Now I am through. See ya.

Sit/knit and racing we go

The other plan - write something within this space frequently.
Wednesday past, I scribed the following.  it was not posted because I thought it was incomplete.
==============================
'Tis Wednesday.  'Tis.
I have been sitting here admiring the computer screen waiting for a brilliant thought to come out.  None so far.   
.
The wife is in town with a bunch of age-appropriate ladies at the Senior Center - Sit and Sew - I call it Sit and Knit - They meet for a couple hours weekly working on some project and talk - I'm sure there is no gossip, just talk.  Showing photos of grandkids, talking about the weather,  knitting, sewing, whatever else those wild women do.
.
I made  her a little sign to take to her gathering.  I'm sure it will be a hit.
                                   
                                   SIT and KNIT
                                       or you'll
                                SQUAT  and ROT
.
a good philosophy for us in our age range.
.
Meanwhile I sit at home babysitting - uh, make that dog sitting.  It is much too cold to venture outside.  The wind from the north is coming off the lake like it has a purpose = frosting my windows...freezing my toes...chattering my teeth -   Spring will arrive sometime; I just don't know when.
.
LUNCH:  Turned on the TV as I ate chili leftovers.  I  found a BECKER festival on channel 238 and have thoroughly enjoyed laying back and enjoying his continual bad attitude.
.
My Dot Laura called - her hubby will be training soon for working in a post office.   Sometime soon he gets to drive to Ft. Worth for  training.  There will be a stay-over in a motel.   Made me think of a country/western song:  "Overnight in a Fort Worth motel."   Either that or one of those scary movies where monsters live in the next room over just waiting till you fall asleep or take a shower.
=================================
.
That was it.   too short, I thought - And substance?  Looking for substance.  Little there I think.
My Friday post didn't materialize and now here I am on Saturday.
Let's take a look at my Saturday...no, let's talk last night.  Daught Christine drove up last night with her 3 dogs:  Buddy (she spells it Butty), Wesley, and Ollie  (Ollie was originally named Ali after Mohammed Ali by a family who gave him up -  Ollie cannot tell if you are saying Ali or Ollie. Go Figure).  It was a busy evening getting the dogs in and all settled.  Went to bed early for me.
.
This morning, the wife roused me out of bed about 20 till 6 - that would be 5:40 for you digital people.   I'm not quite sure of the exact time due to being incapable of movement in that time frame.  Up - at breakfast - prepared myself for the day - we drove away from the house at 6:30 a.m.  I haven't seen that number since retirement, nor do I care to see it again in the near future.
.
Why?  You may ponder.  Why is any sane person getting up before 6 on a Saturday?  My lovely wife (bless her heart) and my daughter (bless her heart) conspired together to participate in the local run / walk for charity this morning; and I,  (bless my heart) agreed to share the experience. It was run by the local Lions Club via the Y.  You had a choice 1 mile or 5K.  Anyone want to guess which I chose?  That's right, one mile.   There were people there dressed to run and others dressed for walking.  
.
Before it started we gathered in the parking lot to warm up.  Some skinny young girl turned up the rock and roll loud music and led the crowd in all sorts of exercises.  My take was different than theirs.  If I warm up, I will be too tired to walk the mile.  C'mon.  15 minutes of running  in place - jumping jacks - push ups - the skinny girl, did I mention she was bubbly?  Precious thing.  
.
Exercise over.  Line up.  Mob style.  Some guy who looks like he has never punished himself with exercise, holds up a pistol and a loudspeaker.  Bam!  The race is off.  Thin guys up front take off in a fervor chasing a white pickup with blinking lights.  We started to walk.   One mile.  Follow the arrows.  It was a pleasant walk until we figured out nobody was behind us.  Nobody.  We were dead last - so to speak - never use the word "dead" to an old guy walking in a race.   I would guess we were 1/3rd of the way through the mile when we met people (1 milers) who were heading home.
They seemed quite intent.  .   .  but if they were truly serious about this whole thing, wouldn't they do the 5 K part?
.
Some people had dogs - some were pushing babies - one guy was carrying his little daughter on his shoulders - they were all ahead of us.  There was this one dog, a pretty breed, forgot the breed, almost Lab size,  maybe my wife will add the name in the comments below, it was trotting along in front of us.  As we got nearer the finish, we began to catch the dog.  I was so proud.  Closer and closer we pulled up on the young lady and her dog. Proud.   Perhaps I should mention that we were in a residential area at this time.  The dog was stopping at each mailbox for a sniff and appropriate discharge.  Every time she stopped for a sniff - we gained on her.  Then we entered the park part of the race, no more mail boxes, the dog started to pull away.
.
At least 7 people doing the 5 K passed us before we finished including our local Vet.
We ended the race - I was dead last - they took our photo - 22:38 minutes - we got a purple ribbon with a pretty gold tassel.  Being serious runners, we quickly turned left and filed into the YMCA to find the restrooms.  That was emotional.  In the men's room there was this ugly old guy going to the showers  - he was as naked as a Jay Bird.  I realize that showers are for naked people - I realize that - I was just not prepared for the sight that I saw.  He must have been squatting and rotting.
.
and with that, I close.   The rest of the day was good too.  Derrick Days in Corsicana.  Stay tuned.
m

dogs and dogs

if you read the previous post, you know my plan.  Nope, didn't work out.  Nope, never really thought it would.  So what's new with you?
.
Couple dog stones.  We do love our dogs.  I know that your dogs are cuter than mine, but I have possession of the keyboard.  I have 5 dogs, right?  Greta, the blond snake killer is oldest followed a couple years later by Fritz, The Hungry.  There was Gandalf the Gray and Gandalf the White.  I have Fritz The Hungry.  A year later came our white spotted Liesl.  She is so sweet and afraid...the only dog that I have who will try to bite someone without being tempted.  "You have a leg; I have the teeth....just make a wrong move."  SNAP.   
.
A little aside:  went to an estate sale last year.  They had a dog toy - sorta like a gum ball machine.  It had a bone for a handle, painted pretty red, push down the handle and dog food treats come out. Concept - dogs can learn this.  That is wrong.  4 of our 5 just sit and look at the food through its glass dome.  ( I think, thanks to daughter Laura's help,  ) Little Liesle walks right up and hits that handle with her right foot and begins to chow down.  We can put it away for a month - makes no never mind - that right paw shoves down the bone handle and treats come out.  She is selfish and has no intention of sharing with the others.   "If they want treats, they can learn to push the handle."   SNAP.
.
Finally after a few years of resting from having puppies around, we got the twin boys - chocolate in color:  one regular and one dapple.  Beautiful boys.  Oscar is the ball boy;  Bruno is the lover and innocent and so careful not to offend.   Many times he will sit outside the back door looking up into your eyes until invited back into the house...not always, just most times.
.
In the living room, we have some dog beds thrown about.  One is a deep chocolate color and red.  It really is pretty and looks quite comfy.   Store that info away.
.
Today I left the house to drive the mile up to the mailbox.  I do this on a daily basis; it is a trip for a purpose and no adventures.  As I leave I will yell out something like, "I'll be right back."  Nobody responds, not even the wife.  I drive up, get the mail and paper, drive back, park in the driveway and open the door of the car.
.
At that moment the dogs Five commence a bark and howl to beat the band.  It is like I have been gone for a month.  They "hollar and shout" as I weave my way back to the front door.  Then,  silence...waiting...key in door...Bruno will bark...door opens and I am greeted by 5 wiggly children waiting to be loved:  Fritz squats down, ears lowered;  Greta, if she has decided it is the day, will wiggle to you;  Liesl hovers behind waiting for a slot;  Oscar is up front, green ball in his mouth; and Bruno is just beside himself.
.
Recently when I return, everyone is doing his doggy thing and Bruno will go grab the chocolate and red dog bed running through the house.  He lifts his head as high as a dachshund can do, dragging the bed in front - trying not to trip.  Just imagine a doxie running with a bed in his teeth.
. 
So, I enter locking the door behind.  I love Fritz and tell him it is not time to eat.  Liesl and Greta get their scratching and loving.   I throw the ball for Oscar and run down Bruno and his mobile bed. Today, Bruno took the bed 3 times before he could contain his excitement that "Daddy's Home."
.
Yesterday, finished the yard prep.  Today a cold front.  People up north think I am a wimp, but 45 degrees with wind off the lake - that is tough to me.
.
5 o'clock.  Time for Fritz to eat.  Let the barking begin.
m

Monday A.M. (Around the porch)

My plan  ( mah playn) is to make this a 3 part posting - all on the same day.  As we all know  or should know if you visit here often,  in my world plans don't always work out.  It is Noon : 10.  I have just finished a delightful lunch of a pork  chop  [ fyi:  I just had to back up and retype "pork chop" - first time my rapid spelling came out "porch kop" - somewhat fitting for my blug premise ] Forgot where I was....   ate a porch kop, blackeye peas, macaroni & cheese, one jalapeno pepper, and a big hunkin' glass of unsweet peach tea.   Yummy.
.
So I am resting and harmonizing with my puter keyboard.
.
Fritz barked and roused the wife at 5:30 this morning - time for a Dog Pit visit.   All dogs came alive as she reintroduced them to the pit's grassy knoll.   Finished, dog breakfast followed by - give or take - a 3 to 4 hour nap.  Meanwhile, little Greta and I just rolled over and continued our initial overnight siesta.  Greta either sleeps on a dog pillow by my side of the bed or on a dog pillow under the foot of the bed.  She likes to be an equal opportunity pillow sleeper.  Last night she started under the foot of the bed but ended by my side of the bed.  My wife has no dog pillow by her side of the bed - She has never said why but I am guessing it has to do with either lack of space or the aroma of a well-used dog pillow.  My honker doesn't have the best smelling attachment; thus, I rarely smell their hides next to me.
.
As an aside:  Fluffy Liesl has the same sleeping habits as Greta, but she is usually one of the first to get up in the morning and seems to enjoy her early = predawn = romp in the Pit.
.
So Greta and I continued to sleep.  The wife handles the morning dog duties; I put them away at night.  Seems fair to me.   Then, she goes to her sewing room and works on her next project.  She is piecing a quilt at the moment.
.
Greta woke me up at 7:30.  This is rare for her to rise so early.  I let her out of the bedroom - she made the "pit trip" - ate breakfast - obviously an EAT DAY - and went back to bed.  I was back in bed at 7:31.   8:15 I felt guilty and got up.....  various things happened around the house....  
.
Our house has 3 yards:   front, back inside the fence, and side/back outside the fence. 
I own 3 major yard machines:   riding John Deere mower,  back wheel powered John Deere hand type mower, and a gas weed eater.  A few years back, a neighbor borrowed the weed eater for an afternoon of pleasure.  When it  returned, they had christened it  "The Terminator."   The Terminator must have done a very adequate job for them.  I know it does for me.  The Terminator and I have killed 2 pretty big ugly snakes over the almost 5 years of living here;  it takes no prisoners.   
.
With the above explanation done, let me move on.   My wife has one major yard tool, a battery powered pair of grass clippers.  She trims.  It makes me nervous for her to get down with that set of clippers - you never know what might be lurking in the grass.
.
This morning, I fired up the hand mower - did i mention it is a key start?  No more pulling ropes for me.  I got that feature so my wife could start the mower and use it.   Another dream smashed.  So, I turned the key and mowed the bottom portion of the front yard.  Parked it.   Fired up the riding mower  (yes, key, also).  It ran 13.2 seconds before it died.  Gnashing of teeth.   Then, in a simply brilliant stroke of intelligence, I looked in the gas tank.  Empty.   Filled.  Mowed the remainder of the front.   We have a few bluebonnets growing.  Must not mow bluebonnets.  The area across the road has lots of bluebonnets.  I mowed a section of that - Philosophy, short grass is not inviting to snakes.
.
Finally, I dug out the Terminator and weed ate the front yard, the side yard leading to the back yard outside the fence, along most of the sea wall, having a good time....I turned around and the wife was standing there yelling at me.  Y'see, I had plugs in my ears and a noise reduction headset on my head - could not hear a thing.   I smiled.  She spoke loudly.  I read lips.
.
Came inside and ate - now you have spent the morning with me.  This afternoon promises more fun  mowing the back yard, weed eating the rest of the area beyond the fence, weed eat inside the fence - all while throwing a ball for Oscar.  He has never gotten the concept of people working do not like to stop for ball throwing.  Good boy.   20% chance of rain tomorrow.
. 
o'er and out

etc.

This week - I have been a failure when it comes to this blug.   Maybe, just maybe, I will do better next week.
.
I enjoy watching MONK  and   MONK RERUNS.   Tonight the MONK is an episode named "The Marathon Man."   Now I ask you - what moron picked this episode to run in this particular week?  Or is the episode picker psychic?
.
Today from my awakening until now, TV had the wall-to-wall coverage from Watertown, PA.  The Boston Marathon bombing has had out complete attention since the weekend.  And in the middle of the week a fertilizer plant blew up in West, Texas, about 45 miles or so from here.  No results from the explosion yet.  I imagine it will take months of investigating to figure it all out.  Even today, they have no final figure on deaths in West.  That in itself has to take a toll on the citizens of West and their friends / loved ones.   
.
Can you just imagine the fallout from living in a small town that is practically destroyed by an explosion?  This next part is not funny in truth - the explosion wiped out one of their schools, and they have the State Testing this coming week.   Surely someone will take all of this in account when the results are announced.  So many administrators and teachers are psycho about the test results.  If West has this type of folks, there will be a great number of gnashing teeth.
.
I posted this briefly on Facebook.  The Circle of Life.  Today my middle school aged granddaughter boarded a charter bus in Frenship, TX, for an overnight band trip to a competition in Dallas and subsequent day of fun at Six Flags Over Texas.  When I was in high school, Mr. Wheeler loaded up the Levelland H.S. Band for long trips.  They were really good times.
.
How many times have I loaded up buses of kids for overnight trips to various exotic locations?   I made so many of those trips - great memories - All 3 of my own kids made so many trips in band
buses over those " formulative " years.  And now, my own Megan is headed for Dallas.
.
Few will find this next interesting.  Frenship has 3 middle schools.  All 3 are making this trip.  One school is using 2 buses.  The other schools are using the other 3 buses - shared.    There is something about taking five buses of middle school kids anywhere - much less spending the night.  I read the instructions sent with the kids.  Brilliant idea:  they are taking up all cell phones at 10 p.m., like that will help get the kids to go to bed.    Yessirrrrr, I plan to enjoy my night of rest here in my lonely home.

later,
m

A little Pot Pouring

SAT. EXTRA BLOG / BLUG

The Corsicana Swing Orchestra is performing this afternoon in Fairfield from 2 to 4 at their Relay for Life.  This is another (not complaining) of our free gigs.   Rumor is we have another Relay for Life coming up in Teague soon.   I don't complain because I like to play my horn with these guys.  It is so difficult to practice anymore, alone - in my room - you get the picture.   So practicing with the CSO or performing, it is good.   And God Said:  " ... "  
.
Yesterday was Rush Limbaugh's annual Radiothon for Leukemia and other blood deseases.  Go to RushLimbaugh.com and contribute.  My own father died from Leukemia when he was 64 years old.  While I don't donate to a lot of charities, this is one that has gotten my attention.  I should tell that stone someday...not today...too pretty outside for a downer.
.
This is sorta a pot pouring  bluggy today.  Didja know there is a website run by NBC  CALLED  www.Missingmoney.com   apparently they have list of money that poor slobs like you and me have left somewhere.  How do people leave money in places?  I don't know.  You'd think people would think.  But no.  My personal stone.  If have some junk that I collected over the years including some old, but not rare, coins.  When I was a Boy Scout, I made a coin collection to get a merit badge.   I had to collect one USA coin from each division from the year I was born.  I did.  Got the merit badge.  Still have the coins.
.
So we were living in a rental in Plano trying to keep our head above water.  I thought it would be good to put some stuff in a Safety Deposit Box in a bank...it was free with the checking account.  Later we moved to Gainesville, and I gots suh call from Plano - "What should we do with the stuff in the your Box since you closed your account?"   Really?  What a dumb thing to do.   I had not even thought of that Box in a couple of years.
.
We picked up the things and now my coins are in a safer place.   I took this little tin box, walked 10 paces north from the tree with the face and 17 giant steps east burying the coins under a big rock that looks like the Titanic on a bad day.  Whew.  That's over.  They'll be safe out there.
.
Did I ever tell you about Ray Chapa.  He lives somewhere in south or south central Texas  Ray is a clarinet teacher.  He makes the rounds of schools giving clinics to students.  Ray has a particular way about him that I find entertaining.  And what he preaches works if the students will merely pay attention and give it a shot.  I had one clarinet play who did his embouchure method a few years ago, and her sound just opened up.  It was gorgeous.  Competent player with a gorgeous sound.  That sound alone pushed her to the top of the All-Region type bands.  I wish everyone of my students had heard Ray and followed his lesson.   Enough of that.  
.
At the time Ray was coming to Manor, he traveled with a red Dachshund.   It was a great looking doxie.  Maybe that is why I like Ray so much.  He was a smart aleck and had a Dachshund.
.
Microwave ovens.  Do you realize how great they are?   We didn't have em when I wss a kid.  And when first got them, it was like the sun rising in the morning.   Those first few weiners we put in the machine to seem them bloat up and explode.  (actually, we prefer the term  weinees to  weiners or frankfurters).   But then, veggies were warmed up.  It was wonderful.
.
Our microwave here had the door break last year.  The handle virtually came off into our hands.  We called Sears and looked for a new door - of course not - product model was discontinued.  Next step?   duct tape or a new machine.  My wife, not having a true understanding of the greatest of duct tape and the beautiful things it can accomplished, pushed for the new machine.
.
We went to the Sears on line.  You might ask why we would go back to the company that messed us up in the first place.  We wanted to match the handle with the refrig and the dish washer and the range.  And we did finally.  It is a beautiful  beautiful (word of the day/blog) machine.  Now get this.  I called their customer service people and asked questions about this model before it was bought.  They had no clue.
.
This one does not have the carousel inside.  Instead the square glass plate inside moves from side to side.  Thus one could actually put a large bird or large container inside and the door would not be hit.  Bee-U-Ti-Fulllll.   Wait, there is more.  The door opens from either side.  Open the right side or open the left side.  What a great idea.  The customer service people had no clue, and we didn't either until after it was installed.  I love our new microwave.  Is that a small crack forming under that handle?
.
gotta leave for Fairfield.
Y'all stay busy 
and go get a hobby
something that is restful
and profitable
m3

grass and critters

Here we are, Friday night. Today was a BEAUTIFUL day in the neighborhood. The wind was light; the temperature was pleasant; the dogs did what they do with gusto.

.

Today I went to Walmart and bought St. Augustine grass for the yard. At $1.25 per square, compared to the competition, this is a good deal. Maybe if I could buy it by the pallet a financial savings could be had. I cannot fathom installing a full pallet of grass by myself - correction: my wife and I cannot fathom installing a full pallet of grass by ourselves. That would be so tough.

.

Here at the Mansion we have bout .88 acres mostly a slope towards the water. I just am not rich enough to put down grass on the whole yard - or have someone do it for me. Then there is the problem of watering all that grass. No automatic sprinkler here. I have an idea, one of you readers start a sprinkler fund and buy me the system. Based upon neighbors talking, that should only be near $6,000. Yeah, you do that.

.

So I buy 100 or so pieces each year and plant them. Part of the yard is doing a fine job, some is not. So today, I drove to Wal*Mart and bought my grass, loading it inside the little Explorer Sport.

.

Learning: if you do your entire yard, you can just lay the squares down on top of the yard and water it. But in my case, checkerboarding around the yard sporatically, I dig down an inch or so to keep the grass from protruding above the ground and being destroyed by the lawn mower. Digging muddy ground is tiresome.

.

So there I was digging. Little Liesl and Greta help me dig. They are looking for grub worms which must taste really good. Dodging dogs makes it a bit more complicated. And, I was digging by this landscape timber, Liesl trying to dig under the timber. As I started to tell her to stop, there it was right on top of the timber, coiled - a 12 to 16 inch cottonmouth snake. Neither Liesl nor Greta had spotted the snake.

.

My shovel went to work and - to quote the Queen - OFF WITH HIS HEAD!! Scooped up the head with the shovel, its mouth still wide open - grabbed the remainder by the tail and showed it to Liesl - she jumped back 3 feet. Smart Dog. Taking it over to Greta, she lunged for the remains. If you have never read the "snake dog" blug entry, you might not understand. She is the smallest one I have, and she hates snakes. I do too; but, I have a shovel. The last time she was bit by a copperhead, it was on the side of her tongue - it bled and bled. Dumb dogs should learn something after this many years. Nope.

.

We went back to looking for grubs. And I started thinking about the wild critters we have out here. Personally, I have seen snakes, a bobcat, deer, coyote, armadillo, squirrels, and some fabulous birds. Surprisingly, I have not seen raccoons or possums. I cannot spell possum. It should be O'possum. That is what we have in Texas. A true possum lives somewhere else like Antarctica or the North Pole or somewhere else - look it up.

.

My biggest kick right now is that we have a roadrunner. Those are big birds. He stands in our front yard, frozen in time - then, all of a sudden he takes off running. I understand they eat snakes. Good Bird. I wish we had 10 or 15 of them - really fun to watch.

.

I close in two more bits: Water birds are plentiful. We have stokes and ducks and you name it - No Eagles. Hawks, yes....An Owl or two (hear them every night), red headed woodpeckers, soaring overhead big hungry birds, looking, searching, swooping, you fill in the blank, and a few Purple Martins. Purple Martins are a fun critter to watch.

.

Skunk: There is one living in the wooded area to the south. We know because we small it. My wife was cleaning mud off her shoes near that area and she got a strong whiff. Time passes - a 2nd whiff. On the 3rd whiff, she moved inside. I think we are being watched by the skunk who is just sending warnings - sorta a Don't Tread On Me - kind of thing. And I agree. He can stay over there, and I will stay over here. He can just save his Spray for later as far as I am concerned.

.

Wait, I forgot the wildest critters out here - my 5 dogs. You come up to the front of the house, you will experience wild and uncontrollable behavior. Aren't they sweet?

later,

m

I'm Cold and Mad

I sat down here cold and mad, not the ideal situation for me to begin writing anything.   I'm mad because one of my children is having an issue and there is nothing I can do about it.  No, I will not explain further.  I live with the belief that certain problem just should not be aired out in public.  Now, if my dogs have an issue, that is a complete different thing.  Let's say that you think you may have contracted a certain serious disease, but you don't know for sure - the tests are not back... keep it to yourself until you have a definitive answer  (no, my kid is not sick - that is why I used that as an example).  
.
The problem with these bogs - bugs - blugs is that you can get too personal.  Maybe that would bring in more readers if I talked about my neighbors on the south who are drug addicts and the cops were out last Friday night.  That was some raid, lemme tell you.  Lights, sirens, brandished weapons, drug sniffin' dogs, night vision goggles, aw man, what a sight.  We got the double size rocking chair out and parked on the front porch with our cameras flashing.   Did I mention the press?  Interviews, ya gotta be there.  I should post some of the photos.
.
Minor problem, the lot south of us is all brambles, empty, no house, no neighbor to the south, no cops, no robbers, no dogs, no press....just me on the back porch throwing the ball for Oscar and reading the daily news.  Sooooo "mad" will go unexplained unless I get livid.  Stay tuned in future blogs.
.
But cold - that was in the first sentence too - I sat down here cold.   Already had dug out a green sweatshirt to increase my warmth.  The thermostat in the hallway was reading 74 - that should be warm enough.  It might have been that I returned from driving up and getting the mail in the rain.  It coulda been stepping out on the back porch into the north wind coming off the lake in order to encourage my pups to relinquish what they were holding within.   Mighta been those 15 minutes I spent on the front porch talking to a neighbor - nah, listening to a neighbor talk about what he has going on.  But, it was good of him to drop by and bring his road assessment check finally.
.
Those of you who actually live in colder climates, ya prolly think I whine too much about the cold.  I don't like cold.  Last night the weatherman pointed out that it was 26 degrees in the Panhandle of Texas and 106 in Laredo, Texas - all at the same time.   I don't like hot - I don't like cold.   It was only down in the 50s here, but that wind - it would freeze the warts off a hog.   And poor Liesl.
.
Little Liesl is afraid of thunder.   She has been at my feet shaking all afternoon.  No, you cannot pick her up.  Mostly you can do nothing.   I have a small cardboard box on the floor in here, its flap raised slightly against a footstool.   She will take refuge under the flap, shivering, yes, but not pacing the floor.    The weather has calmed down outside...enough so that I got all 5 dogs to make a short pit stop out back again.   Liesl was the first through and the first to put her nose against the back door.  Poor baby.  
.
So I went over to encourage Bruno to finish his deed.  He sometimes forgets the task at hand.  All of a sudden I hear this noise.   Something whizzes around my head.   It stopped directly in front of my face, not 12 inches away - a red-throated hummingbird.   He froze directly in front of my eyes giving me the once over then, just as quickly as he arrived, he whirrrrrrrrred off into the distance.   That was something that I do not experience often enough.   That red throat was brilliant red.   His beady little eyes piercing mine.   and the wings whipping the air with such a tornado sound.   I'd do that again if I get to vote.
.
The hummingbird made my day.  The cold seems less important; Liesl has settled down.   Maybe I just need to rest up before choir practice tonight.  I'll sit and play some mindless video game and drink my Big Red Zero.  [ We got a 2 liter bottle of same for free the other day at HEB grocery store when we bought a big ole sausage. ]
.
For those who care, the Corsicana Swing Orchestra is performing this Sat { April 13th - yes, Friday the 13th comes on a Saturday this month } in the town of Fairfield, 30 miles south of Corsicana.  It is some type of a gathering to make money against Cancer - a worthy cause - no salary - just fine - the cause is good  and I do love to play the horn when I can.   2 to 4 pm in their fairgrounds on Hwy 84.  Y'all come on down.  They are serving Crawdads and hamburgers.

Love ya all
mtz #3
    

Monday and my trip to town

A day in the life - no, a Monday in the life of a retired band director with minimal deadlines.

I hope you can find the humor of this considering I use to be a man-about-town, fashion plate, and world traveler.

.

Up. Wife in shower.  Breakfast of Grape Nuts and letting dogs in and out of back door.   Me follow up in the wet place.   We are trying an experiment.  Got a plastic bucket at Atwoods.  As the water begins to flow in the shower, we fill the bucket till the temperature rises.  The bucket is emptied outside on one of our moisture starved plants.  This means 2 buckets of water per day.  The plants are appreciative.   Dressed.

.

Today I chose a lovely ensemble of pale blue jeans topped with a horizontally striped black and white knit shirt.  Tiny red stripes border the bolder black stripes.  Brown leather belt and green socks.  You might wonder about the green socks.  I own them, that's why.  Plus the lighting is poor in the sock drawer and I never can figure out which pair is green.  The last time this happened I was attired in a sky blue knit shirt and was embarrassed all day long.   { Aside:  if you read below where wife tied her own shoes, it was at that moment that I lifted my pants legs to discover the green socks.  I need help in this area. }

.

All dressed.  Ready to go to town.  First the dogs are placed in the dog pit.  This is 15 x 20 ft. area in the backyard with a 6 ft fence:  semi-covered, water, grass -- a nice place for the dogs to visit.  

My wife is the treasurer of our Home Owners Asso.  (HOA).  As such she is sent dues and other assessments.  Since the road was fixed and money collected prior to the event, she doesn't see many checks now.  Still, a $30 check arrived.  

.

Our first task, deposit the $30.  Next a quick trip by the post office to mail letters to the 12 dead beats of the HOA who have not paid their road assessment dues yet.  Clowns.   They even pretend  no previous letter has arrived.   It is one thing to be short of cash and unable to pay - you call someone and make a plan.  But, to lie about not receiving a notice.  Despicable.    Now we do have this one guy who is divorcing his wife and selling the house.   He called and explained that he was paying half and she was to pay the reminder  (that would be "half" for those of you who are mathematically challenged.   He paid.  She hasn't.  My wife doesn't need this type of torment.

.

In town - drop by the HOA'S CPA to deliver a notice from the great State of Texas, or is it State of Taxes?  Down 7th Avenue to Atwoods.   Poop.    That's right,  Poop.  Let me take you back to the Dog Pit - shorten to PIT.  The PIT is for the dogs to Poop at night - away from potential animals which might linger in the backyard.  The PIT is small enough to keep track of them at night.  We have coyotes and bobcats and foxes and killer bees - you name it (snakes, don't forget).    As you well imagine, a PooPit fills up pretty fast with 5 dogs, one of which, Fritz, is able to produce more Poo than all the other dogs put together.   That boy has a talent.

.

So I have one of those little rakes and scooper thingys in the pit.  Scoop up the goo, and put it in a galvanized silver bucket lined with an appropriate sized white garbage bag.  Well that doesn't solve the poop problem in the rest of the yard.  So today we bought another scoop at Atwoods.  It has a beautiful yellow handle.  Beautiful.

.

On to Walmart.  What trip to town is complete without a trip to town?  Of extreme importance is that our Highway department has just installed a new traffic light at the entrance of Walmart.  Today is the first day that I have seen it work - and, today, we went through the light on  the left signal.  We are growing up.   Bought Walmart gas - 3 cents off with the card.

.

Inside to look at yarn- didn't buy any - found a plastic bowl to buy - did.   Went to the register by the back - there were these two Spanish ladies - each with kids - at the register.  It is unimportant that the 2 were Spanish except they were having language problems.  They had coupons.  They had coupons from other stores.  Each item they bought had a coupon and one from another store.  The poor clerk was looking up things right and left.  And the kids were wild.

.

After 5 minutes we moved to another register at the front of the store.  So did the guy in front of us.   The 2nd Spanish lady still had a buggy full of stuff and her own coupons.    We checked out.

Next was a side trip to Tractor Supply.  They have buckets with lids.  If you get a pooper scooper, you need a bucket for disposal.

. 

By now it was noon - we made a stopover at CiCi's pizza.  Cheap.  Breading.  salad.  It was a delight and the 2 Spanish ladies with the loud kids were not there.   The town trip ended with a short adventure at the HEB grocery store.   So the day trip ended.  

.

Back home - mowed the backyard - played ball with Oscar - fed dogs - played ball with Oscar - ate left overs (good pork chops) - all exciting.

2 things before I close:

.

1.   Today is my daughter-in-law Penney's birthday.  Happy Birthday to Penney.  I am not talking about age here.  They are spending her birthday at the softball field as one of their daughters is playing ball tonight.

2.   As I typed I looked for something to watch on TV.  I found a 20th century fox movie with 30 minutes left.   ROXIE HART  with Ginger Rogers, a 1942 flick.   This is the Chicago movie story with Roxie, the shooter,  and Billy Flynn, the lawyer, appealing to an all male jury.  Those last 30 minutes were a lot of fun.  I have got to see if I can find the entire movie and watch it.

and so I close.

maybe Wednesday's missive will be full of intrigue and spies and communist invaders being thwarted.   I certainly do hope so.

m 

.

P.S.   Dallas hired a new Superintendent last summer.  This year he has been trying to put his personal touch on the recovery of the school system.  The newspaper says that 9 out of 10 students in the DISD live below the poverty level.  The Dallas News had a feature article today about how they are firing Principals - moving Principals - and generally shaking up the system.  Some of the townspeople are all uptight.  Friends of these Principals are up in arms.   One of the Princes told some of his people to just hang on (I paraphrase) cause the Supt might not be there very long.   Turmoil in the Dallas ISD.  Am I glad to be out of that arena?

            In one recent parent rant, the lady accused the supt. of being a white supremist.  The News then point out that the Supt. mother is Black and his father is Japanese.  When in doubt, play the race card.   I close now.

Senilality and Age

It seems to me....
One of the advantages of getting old is that you get to repeat many of your favorite stories (  or stones  ) to the same people  -  and  -  you are somewhat forgiven because of your senility   I take pride in this.  My mom did it on a regular basis.   Before I continue, let's take up the senilality or senility.  I have never had the occasion to type such a word.  Spell check goes with senility.   I prefer  Senile - a - lity.  What me Senile?

So should I forget that I have recited a recital  or recitative on these pages, I will be forgiven.  After all, I am approaching my Senile years...not with glee...but unstoppable.  I believe it was someone like George Burns who said that getting old is not for the feint of heart...or...was it not for sissies.  There is only one other option for getting old.  
.
What kicked me into these thoughts were two events recently.  One of them today.  If you have bothered to read below you know that we are redoing our roads out here in Bluffview HOA.  We did a stretch of the road a couple years ago and are doing another stretch this year.   An extra $400  was due to the HOA this year for roads.   Next year?  Probably another $400 and another stretch of road.   We are so fortunate to have this honor ( Fiddler on the Roof reference here).  
.
A rock base was spread on top of our old  asphalt earlier.  Thursday, a fine sand is to be spread to help the asphalt adhere.   One of the homeowners - Sean - has a small 1936 tractor (in need of restoration)  which is used to spread the sand.   So we pay this company to bring a really long dump truck to our road - it is a  "flow-boy."  The truck drives slowly up the road leaving a one to two foot high mound of sand...sorta conveyer belt running out the end.   Fine.
.
I have done nothing yet on the road.  Went down yesterday at 8:30 as requested with my rake and shovel.  I did.   Sand truck didn't show.   At 10:30 I went home and got a drink.   Back down there at 11.  The truck shows.  I was told to go home and wait - we'll call...nothing for me to do yet.   I did.   Back at home I ate left-overs, which I might add is one of my best skills which I would attempt with my rake and shovel if the spouse would allow.   Finished, back down the road scurried I.  Nobody there.   Instead, went to the mailbox and got the mail; I did.   Home again.   About 1:30 a big sand truck appears in front of my house and making a U turn in the Cul-de-sac.  (I love speaking French to impress all comers.)
.
I followed the sand truck soon.  I did.  There was the truck in the middle of the road, stopped.  Shortening this stone a bit - turns out the truck ran out of gas.  It did.   It has 2 tanks, one left side and one right.  The left tank was full; the right tank was empty.  Truck stopped.  How can this relate to age?
.
The truck driver was old...creepingly old.  He was about a foot shorter than I (yes, it is possible).  He was so ragged, missing teeth, Salvation Army clothes throw aways,  the whole bit.   Twice as we stood waiting for the diesel to arrive he makes a comment about how old he is.   His boss showed up, another geezer, yes, but a full size geezer, tummy and all.   Again the driver made a remark about his age.
. 
His comment was, and I do paraphrase here,   " Can't blame me;  I'm old,  62 years old ....."  Yes, this dried up prune of a wart proclaimed he was 62 years old.   62.   He looked 101 and should have his photo on the Today show's gallery of really old people.   62, let me repeat that.  62.   Ten years my junior.  
.
Little side stone here:  he made the comment that he could solve the gas problem if he had a really long Oklahoma credit card.   Our HOA leader had never heard of the Okla credit card.  I thought it was general knowledge.   You don't know?  Think long rubber tube stuck down in your gas tank, siphoning off the tank of gas.   That is an Oklahoma credit card.
.
62.  Gads.  I bet he is looking forward to his Golden Years living off his social security.
. 2nd stone:   I may have told this before  (see top paragraph for excuse).  My wife and I were walking through the flowers of the Dallas Arboretum a couple weeks back.  We walked one path after another.  It was very nice.  Walking up this one winding path, we hesitated between two "ancient" ladies parked on a metal bench to the right and some beautiful blooms on the left.  The flowers were quite vibrant,  and my camera came out for a photo op.
.
One of the old ladies said to my wife:  "Your shoe string is untied." 
Heads turned down to see the right shoe with dangling strings.  My wife smiled; I do believe she smiled towards the ladies and made a minor comment.
.
Then came the "age" comment.   The lady on the left emitted,  "Would you like for one us to tie it for you?"    Let the rolling of the eyes commence.  I quickly turned towards the blooms not knowing what my wife would respond.   She thanked them - then -  and this part I love - she bent at the waist, knees locked, bent over at the waist and tied the shoe without a hesitation.   Can you do that?  I don't think I can bend at the waist and tie my shoes.  I can flounder on the ground and accomplish same.  Then, the ancient ladies would have to help me off the ground.

So with that I will almost close.  In the beginning I mentioned that my mother repeated stories.  In her youth - college even - she was a cheerleader type able to do the splits - and other big cheerleading moves of the 1930s.  Later in life she would let us know that she use to be able to sit on the floor with her legs alongside all day long.  As she aged she could no longer squat down on the floor.  I use to pass it off - but as you can tell, it made an impression on me.  Now that I have the same age affliction, the floor is no longer my sitting friend.  Give me a chair - a chair with a thick cushion - please.

P.S.  FRIDAY - Asphalt is to begin today.  Walked down there about 9:30 - all workers with their lime green vests were sitting in the shade.   One of the machines has broken down.  When will it all end?
later,
M

Buffet Paradise

Wed. April 3rd - 2 days after April Fools day. I feel that I was a failure as not one April Fool word came out of my mouth. Sad really. When I was teaching, opportunities soared - as well as they soared for the students. Do I miss April Fool's day in my classes. Not a wit. I also don't miss the pinching of St. Patrick's Day...or the day before Christmas or Spring Break vacations. Nope, not a bit. "Your shoes untied."

.

Went to church choir tonight. Our minister Bayard Pratt made the trip to the choir rehearsal room to say nice things about the Holy Week services and the choir's contributions. That was good.

.

Our director, Scott Clinton, did a good selecting music appropriate for the season and the choir's abilities. Good Job Scott.

.

On TV right now is a show on the travel channel: Buffet Paradise. Now this is a show I can get into. Got late into the show so I missed the first ones. My daughter just called so I will miss the last ones = Yes, I will be looking for the rerun of this show.

.

So far they have talked about Stubbs BBQ in Austin. I never realized that Stubbs had stuff besides BBQ. They do. And they have live entertainment lots of the time. It looks like a mecca for hungry Texans.

.

Next was Nordic Lodge in Rhode Island. I'd imagine they have a website. This place was loaded with seafood. Eat as many whole lobsters as you want and the lobster looked scrum scrump scrumptious. I want to go there.

.

The 3rd buffet was in Long Beach on the Queen Mary. That has to be fun.

.

The final buffet before the phone rang: Taverna in Alexandria, VA - Greek food. A Greek Lasagna - ring ring ring -

Enough of that...

.

Originally I was going to recite things that amaze me in the world today like Microwaves etc. Suppose that will wait for Friday.

.

Wrote earlier about paving the road in our subdivision - Tomorrow morning at 8:30, I get to go out with my shovel and rake, They are dumping sand on top of the rock base. I get to spread a mile of sand - with the help of others in the area. It should be fun. Friday comes the asphalt. My week is complete.

enough,

see ya guys

m

Crusoe the celebrity dachshund

This is not my Wed. blog.  I visited Crusoe the Celebrity Dachshund's website and was amused.  Crusoe will always amuse.

.

http://www.celebritydachshund.com/2013/04/03/centerfold-photo-contest-winners/

.

I will admit my failings should I ever have any. Perchance I have a minor failing when it comes to my love of all things dachshund. Above is Crusoe the Celebrity Dachshund's website. He had just had a competition for a Centerfold Doxie. You can subscribe to his website.

.

My favorite (non- winner) was Jeffrey - a fabulous name and a great looking wire-hair. You should really visit this site - and if you misguidedly think some other breed of pup is better than my doxies, you should start your own website. There could be fortunes to be made.

.

Speaking of places to visit - note the line at the bottom of this page.

.

Mtz

.

When you have a chance, sign up for easier delivery to your mailbox.  See little box on right to check ???

memory and ....

There has been a running joke or premise for years and years about how hard a life our parents had.   You have heard these things over and over.  My own parents walked 5 miles to school every day - through the snow and rain and heat and cold - uphill both ways.  Never mind they lived in two parts of Oklahoma - my father in the south central (Temple, Okla.) and my mom in the west  (Kaw City -  now under a man made lake).  By the time I was old enough to comprehend, the stories were more and more exaggerated with uncles and aunts joining in.  So it goes today.

I would imagine that the youngsters of today greet stones of this type with a chuckle and an off-the-cuff "who cares" just as we did.   No longer is anyone impressed with my trials and tribulations growing up in Levelland, Texas.  I had such a hard life - as you can imagine.

Look back a couple of posts and discover that we lived on an oil lease next to the Levelland Gasoline Plant for a while.  As months went by, Amoco figured out a better use of its money.  They sold the houses, and we moved into town.   The plant foreman bought his house and we bought the 2nd house - the other houses sold easily.   I'll save this adventure for another day, but as an FYI, my father had the house picked up and moved to 501 15th Street.   The plant foreman - boss - executive - slick dude - moved his to a lot directly behind ours facing one of the lettered avenues.

It took a while to get all that done natch.  So my father bought another house more or less in the sticks where we lived for several months before moving.   Dad fixed that place up as a rental.  I am sure he sold it eventually.  That fact escapes me as it was unimportant at the time.  I can't say I remember much about that time - here are a  couple though:

Brother Jim and I use to fire an air rifle (pellets) over the back fence at a couple of oil storage tanks near by and listen for the ping of the hit.  That was fun.  Stupid, but fun.  

This may take a moment of explanation.   My oldest brother Marshall attended Okie State (then known as Okla A&M).  When he ventured home, he would bring magazines - not Playboy type - but college mags that OSU produced.  They were slick mags loaded with jokes, cartoons, stories, and photos of campus events like cheerleader practice and so forth.  Jim and I eagerly waited the next issues during his vacations.

There was one joke - a cartoon really - which had these two macho guys talking, as cartoons often do.  I was riding home with my mom and as we stopped in front of the house, I showed it to her and said I didn't understand.  She told me it wasn't funny and that some people are a little different.  That ended the conversation and into the house I trod.   The caption?   "Fairy, Fairy, I don't see any Fairies."     Isn't it amazing the things that are stored in our memory banks?
(  aside note:  if you don't understand the joke, welcome to the club - I can explain it to you, if you wish.  It is politically incorrect in today's market having something to do with sweet boys frolicking gaily across the grass )

All of this brings me to the point of this episode - memories of an old man - how things are different today - how hard we had it as children - so forth.   Okay, this missive has become too long, so I will save that for Wednesday's exotic reciting.  Think of this like waiting to find how who shot J.R. as if I really care.  

Here is one example.  We moved the house to town.  My father didn't hire the preparation work, nope. Jim and I  (Pat to an inch as he was still pretty young ) Jim & I helped.  We built the forms, helped pour the concrete, graded the yard by hand (in a town called Levelland, not much grading was necessary), helped build the fence, put in the yard, y'know, that stuff.   My father was known as cheap - frugal.  Instead of putting forms down and pouring the sidewalk in the back yard, we went to the now vacant camp grounds and moved the old sidewalk to town, one piece at a time.

Sidewalks are scored.  You put a crowbar under the scored area and push down over a fulcrum. snapping the sidewalk  at that point.  The 4x4 hunk of concrete is loaded into a pickup and carried to town to be unloaded and dollied to the back yard.  There it is replaced next to the previous piece.  All in all it was mind-numbing work and heavy for a fragile trumpet player.  I still to this day own all of the pry bars we used.  They are in my garage waiting for the next sidewalk.

I betcha Jim could add some thought to this - is invited to add it at the bottom in the comment section.

p.s. look to the right of this page and sign up to have these delivered to your email window.

now y'all take care, y'hear?
m3