great day (just an opinion)

If you read my previous post regarding lines - you will know that I should be having lines start at any moment.  Stress related visual problems.  What a joy.
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It all started last night.  I am reading email as I am want to do most nights.  I received this email from the leader of the Corsicana Swing Orchestra.  He sent us all a copy of the flyer for the dance we are playing Saturday night at the Corsicana Airport - they call it the Hanger Dance with the money going towards the airport museum - This airport was created during WWII to train our pilots.  Corsicana has a proud history of pilot training.  Eventually the war ended - the base closed - the barracks were converted to Navarro (Junior) College - The college moved to town later and built a very nice campus - and the airport became just an airport.
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I just had to stop typing for two interruptions.  The first and questionably the most important was a bug crawling on my nose.  A little black flying bug.  That can be so distracting.  The second was Oscar.  I have been gone to choir practice this evening.  I missed our ball playing and toy time with the dogs.  Oscar greeted me at the door with a ball in his mouth.  I loved on them all as much as time dictated.   When I sat at the puter (computer) Oscar plopped on a pillow beside me and starting making a noise in his throat.  I knew there would be no peace  (or justice in his mind) if I left him sprawling below.
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I picked him up and we loved and loved and loved.  He snuggled under my chin as I massaged his skinny backbone.  What a boy.  His ball remained on the pillow.  Oscar is now back on his pillow satisfied and eyes closed.  Everyone in the world needs something (or somebody) with which to snuggle.  Or in popular lingo:   you gotta have someone to snuggle with --------
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Back to the email above.  We were asked to email the flyer to people or to put it up all over town.  It seems that ticket sales are somewhat poor - I hope they make enough to pay the band.  I am not going to traipse all over town taping signs up that nobody will read.  It cost $25 per person to go.  This includes a BBQ meal from Bubba's  [ yes, Bubba's BBQ ] over in Ennis.  I must admit it is good BBQ even though it is a bit pricey in my book.   BBQ and a dance amongst the airplanes in the hanger.  What more could you ask?
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So I dug out my email list of the choir and began to edit it on an email address place.  All was going fine when the mouse slipped off the desk and hit the floor. You cannot do email without something like a mouse. For all practical purposes, my screen was frozen up.  I dug out my old mouse.  It would not work.  I dug out my laptop and stole the mouse.  Back in biz.
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Now you may not think that was an interesting stone. Here I am trying to do a good deed.  I break the stupid mouse and all my handiwork will go away if I find no solution.  I found one.  I bought a new mouse today $17 at Walmart.
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This has gone on long enough.  Today I did things around the house, and it seems that at every turn, I bungled the work.  I am refinancing my car from 5.5% to 1.79%.   Everything is done over the internet.  I had to email sign all and the program shorted out - then, I clicked a button and it tried to sell me a computer program that is unneeded by anyone except a bank.  Do I look like at patsy?  Must.  At Walmart pushing a cart and rounding a corner, I hit a cardboard display full of flea medicine for dogs.  It went everywhere.  Down two more aisles.  Turn my cart into a container containing (cute words) empty cardboard boxes.  You guessed it; empty boxes flew.  I picked up the flea medicine dutifully.  I did not pick up the boxes.
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Yes, we have all had these days.  Nothing seemed to work out.  If it wasn't one dumb thing, something else would pop out.  The phone rang.  I picked it up - and the arm of my office chair fell off.  Go figure.  It was hard to get the arm relined up to insert the bolt.  
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Just reread.  This is not interesting.  Wham!  Bam!   I am so looking forward to tomorrow.  It has to be a less accident prone day...surely  (don't call me shirley).  If it is worse, you can write my next bluggy.  At least I know that Oscar will want to hug me in the morning...play ball or no.
m
night folks.
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My youth

When I was a kid - any age - we never went out to eat.  Being inside a restaurant was somewhat foreign to we brothers.   College was such a change, living in the dorm we had to eat out on Sunday night - and, later, we had to eat out every meal as we moved into rentals near the campus.  But, prior to that, we never ate out.  Never...Not ever.
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One Saturday we drove 30 miles south from Levelland to Brownfield.  I couldn't tell you why we went to Brownfield.  I am sure it must have been for business of some type - but a family outing it became.  About 2 or 3 in the afternoon my father finally gave in and took us to a cafe for lunch.  I seem to remember it as a prime example of the traditional greasy spoon cafe located on a bad road ... It was on the outskirts of Brownfield ( a hated school rival ) and they were the cubs - We probably went to the Cub Cafe.  I had to be in the junior high age group at the time.
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Menus were distributed and we had choices to make.  Some took a hamburger (cheese and fries probably would have been an extravagance).  I selected a bowl of chili.  For folks who really know me, this should not be a surprise.  That bowl of chili was terrible.  I am sure it was made from dead cats and bundles of caked grease.  Lard was cheap to buy in those days.  Ate it though.  Later as I burped and complained, my mom gave me some great advice that I still refer to even today - "You can never go wrong with a hamburger.  It is hard to mess up."  She was a wise lady.   
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I believe that may still be true in the greasy spoon cafe world.   All over I try the chicken fried steaks and am always displeased.  Cooks  (not chefs) believe that if you can put an inch of crust around a 3 inch piece of meat which has been beaten down to a thin wafer, all will be forgiven.   Forgiven, maybe, forgotten ?  I don't think so.  When we ran our joint in Amarillo, RAGTIME, we served canned chili with a little home grown hamburger meat to beef it up.   Functional, but not art chili.
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Eating out was rare.
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When we traveled to Oklahoma to see relatives.  My father would not stop.  He drove and drove and drove.  As we entered a town, all would start pointing out places to eat. It was always too late to turn in - not time, but the driveway had passed and we certainly couldn't turn around to eat.  This attitude was by a man that loved to feast - just don't feed on my dollar.
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Times were different; costs were different.  He might stop if he found a place to buy five burgers for a dollar.  5 for $1.  Small drinks (ordered with very little ice) and no fries.  It's a wonder we didn't starve to death on long trips.  
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One of my favorite things was visiting Uncle Percy.  He had a car lot and always drove a convertible - usually a Lincoln.  It was beee-uuuu-ti-full.  Uncle Percy would always take us out to eat lunch one day.  Normally it would be a cafeteria somewhere.  That was one of our great times.
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There was the time that Jim and I drove by ourselves to Ok City to visit Marshall.  Jim (playing string bass) and Marshall were playing a New Year's dance.  We visited for a couple of days.  On one of those days Marshall took us to a spaghetti restaurant (Pizza too) in the City. We had never had spaghetti - and pizza was quite rare in those days.  Marshall made us both wear bibs - as he did with his friends.  We were instructed on the proper way to eat spaghetti.  I still don't have this skill down.
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One more:   We had to drive to Oklahoma once for the funeral of one of my grandparents...I think it was my grandmother.  This was a very sad time for all of us. The trip home went through Amarillo.  I have not the slightest idea why our father chose this route instead of the traditional one through Wichita Falls.  But, he did.  We stopped in Amarillo at Underwoods Cafeteria - good BBQ and fab rolls.   My father ordered ribs.
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He was not one to do things funny.  But on that day he made a big deal about eating the ribs and getting stuff all over his face.  It tears me up now to remember how he worked at making the mood lighter that day.   Food has memories.  I hope all of you can remember your memories.
m 

clothes

Alright, Alright, Alright, ALLL RIGHT !~!
I do have a question...maybe 2...maybe more.
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Let's focus here.  I am a guy.  I am not some female who goes shop, shop, shopping.
Clothes have never meant much to me - as anyone who remembers me wearing the Mr. Roger's sweaters throughout my festive career.
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I do worry a bit about looking okay in a crowd.  I can still remember my first classy sportcoat.  My brother Marshall, as worldly as you could get, took me shopping to buy a sports coat.  My mom may have sent us out to buy a suit, but Marshall had none of that.  He put me in a brown sportcoat.  It had stripes - brown and black alternating.  For all I know, the jacket may not have had the black stripes.  It looked that way to me.  He had me get a pair of matching trousers.  I was a fashion plate.
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The coat and pants were worn in college, and, if I remember correctly, I was married in this outfit.  Things were different back then.  Not everyone had to be married in a pastel colored jacket with matching tie and cumberbund and handkerchief.  I did have a flower on the lapel though.  I betcha this coat is hanging in one of my closets - just as my wife's wedding dress is packed away in a box waiting - just waiting.  It was a very pretty dress.  I like it.
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Off subject:  my wife was always a bit irritated by people who said the wrong things about her age.  As we were nearing our wedding date, she and her mother went to a local Levelland store to find a travel dress.  In those days, when the young couple left the reception, they wore travel clothes.  I wore my suit and tie;  she wore a nice dress.  I want to say it was a blue dress.  She'll correct me if I'm wrong.
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The saleslady complemented the outfit saying, (I paraphrase sorta)  "This is a very pretty dress.  You will be able to wear it all through high school."  We were pushing 22 years old!!  She bought the dress anyway.  I don't think we even approached having a giggle over this.  Serious biz.
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So, I have this question:  What day -- "When"  is it okay to just chuck all your clothes and just start over?  I am 73 years old - pushing higher.  I am still wearing clothes from 10-15 ++ years ago.  Some don't fit as well.  My clothes just don't wear out unless I wear them to the local buffet -  I dribble when I eat (usually unwashable food stuff).  The shoes I have on right now  ( I use them to work in my yard ) were my shoes I wore for marching practice in 2003.  I have shirts that I remember wearing back in the 90s - again not many cause I have grown somewhat.
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Aside note-sidebar:  if my wife reads this, she'll pull out clothes she is still wearing from 20 - 30 years ago.  I will be shamed for complaining.
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I look in the closet and see the same green, blue, red shirts that I have seen forever. Once in a while I get something new but, then,  see above note about eating at the buffet.  One summer the granddaughters were visiting.  I put on a clean shirt every day.  It turns out I had selected a dark blue knit shirt for 3 days in a row - each different. One of the grandgirls asked me if I ever change shirts.  There ya go Herman.
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Hey, you're old. Throw everything out and start over.  President Bush moved into bright colored socks.  You could make a statement - pinks and purples - plaids and stripes - fireman hats - c'mon, the sky's the limit.
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We were walking in Walmart the other day when I spotted some female outfit that I thought would look nice on my wife.  She declined.  Her choice.  I told her how I could make her a fashion plate if she'd just let me dress her  [  one should completely ignore the fact that this conversation happened in a Walmart - the home of fashionable clothing.  ]  She responded that I could pick her clothes if she could pick out mine.  Whoa there Trigger!!  Nobody said anything about that!  
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I could just see my closet now.  Big flowering shirts - tight fitting spandex pastel pants. No way am I gonna set her free to go down this pathway.  The answer of course is to lose a lot of weight.  I get tiny again; I have to have all new clothes, which, I shall add here, I will select for myself.
But, enough of this.  I am going outside and hang up our flag.
I bought a new flag.  The old one got caught on a board and ripped.
The new flag looks nice.  USA   USA   USA    USA
m

lines etc

I am sitting here waiting for supper to simmer properly.  The wife is making some chili which needs to cook down a bit to meld all the proper flavors.  She makes a good chili. The plan is nachos...chips covered with cheese and chili.  .  . and don't forget the jalapenos.  It will be good.
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I opened a can of Ranch Style beans to top off the culinary feast.
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I thought I'd give you a bit of my medical history.  If this is not fine reading, what could be better?  I see lines - not little green men or dead people - lines.  They are very colorful sometimes flashing lighter to brighter.  The lines are jagged.  There is not one line; it is a set of lines.  I might mention I do not see them all of the time...just sometimes.
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Over the years I have been told that these are aural symptoms of migraine headaches. I have migraines without any pain.   The lines usually start in the lower part of my vision then cross diagonally until they slowly float off the top part of the visual field. The whole process takes about 20 to 30 minutes.    But, no pain.
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I can remember my first time - having lines.   I was in high school.  My brother's best friend was a guy named Doc McKay.  Doc was our drummer; he had some real talent.   I imagine I could write a full blog on Doc.   His mother was the local dance teacher. Quite a lady.   At one point of their life, they bought a Lot out on the Brownfield highway out in Levelland  (you can read previous blogs about Levelland being my home town).  The Brownfield Highway was an area where richer people started building their houses - mostly ranch style homes on a really big lot.  The McKays had one of those lots.  They had no house.
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Back in the 50s, Levelland had two gasoline plants.  One was "The Levelland Gas Plant" owned by Standard Oil - who became Amoco - who was bought by BP.  Yes, BP paid my father who paid for my education.  I like BP.  The second plant was called CO-OP.  
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Sometime during that period the CO-OP closed.  All of the pipes and tubes and towers and all were ripped out and gone.  As it turns out the CO-OP had some stuff down in the ground.  I don't know what.  Do I look like a person who can design a gas plant?  These holes in the ground were lined with brick.
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The McKay family hired my brother Jim and me and Doc to dig out those brick - clean em - and transport to their lot.  They used the brick to build their house.  it was summer.  We would climb down in those holes and dig out the brick.  We had a brick carrier that would carry 8 bricks at a time.  That was just about my limit.   This took us several days to complete.
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Do you remember why I am telling this stone?   One day (afternoon) Jim and Doc took off with a load of brick.  I was left behind to keep pulling them out.  And, I did.   It was this particular hot, sweaty, stressful, labor intensive, lonely time that I had my first attack of lines.  They lasted a while - I kept working - and they went away.
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Side note:   Times were certainly different in the 50s.  We worked all those days without any bottle water.  Nobody worried about how we were hydrating.  As a matter of fact, I don't believe anyone even knew the word hydrating.
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Wellsiree, this has gone on too long.  It served little purpose other than documenting that I have these lines.  I had em today.  I used to get them about one day after band contest and other stressful times in my band directing career.   For the life of me, I cannot figure out what triggered those lines today.   Just thought of a word.  Kaleidoscope  - when you look through a kaleidoscope you see these shapes and lines.  Pretty close to mine - except my flash more.
see ya guys around.
If you know a doctor who wants to have my brain after I am gone, give em my phone number.
m 
p.s.  I have no intention to proofread this blog.

stamps and pow wow movie??

Quickie #2 -- 10/3/14

I just paid 2 bills and put stamps on them.  I am still using my 2013 Christmas stamps.  Is this sad or not?  In years past, Christmas stamps rarely made it past December.  Now it seems that last year stamps may make it to this December.
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What bills were paid?   I am resubscribing to the Biblical Archaeology Review.  They are giving it to me for $7 a year.  Now - as an old miser - I think that is pretty good.  That would be $1 an issue.  I am not sure that I would stop in the store and buy an issue for $1 - miser?  cheap?  thrifty? (no that's not it).
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Each year I have to pay taxes on my house etc.  It is good to have a house to be taxed.  Still, it would be nicer if everything would be cheaper.  I use to wait till the very last day of the year to pay thinking this would let me keep my money longer and get interest at the bank.  Last month, I made about 5 cents in interest at the bank.  It makes me sigh.
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How about another photo from my camera?
this is an experiment to see if a movie will upload
We went to the Indian pow-wow in Grand Prairie recently - see a previous bluggy.   It looks like one of these is not uploading.   Hmmmm   it was the longest and best (naturally).  oh well. enjoy.   M3

have gone back to edit this one - all movies apparently worked.  I am impressed with all my skills.  Gonna write my mom and tell her how good I am.    Also, I corrected the word Indian above.  It seems I left off the N.  Now whoever heard of people from India having a pow-wow?   that's fixed.
m

QUILT SHOW !!!

Quickie #1 -- 10/3/14

My wife is downtown today helping them set-up the Corsicana Quilt Show.   She is a member and has a quilt in the show.  It is being judged as I type.  Here is good luck to her.  I will post a photo of the quilt on another day after it is hung at the show.   It is a very good quilt show with some fine looking quilts.  Go see.
m  
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P.S. this means I have to make my own lunch today - or left overs - I get to choose.

critters

Things certainly are different living in the country.  Not true.  They are not different; they are different to me.  People who have lived out in the wilderness have experienced these critters for years.  Being a city slicker, my view has been hampered.  And, to think about it, when I was band directing, I didn't observe much of anything.
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We have hummingbird feeders place on the edge of the porch.  5 feeders line our property.  Or in Star Wars talk:  Property lined with 5 feeders ours are.  This past couple of weeks, we have had anywhere from 20 to 40 hummingbirds dining and fighting off the porch and into the adjoining trees.  All summer, our three faithful hummingbirds have stayed close at hand doing what they do.  We figure if they would ever quit fighting over the food, they might gain some weight.
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But here for about 2 weeks we had a wave of birds.   All day long, eating and flying and fussing.  They were beautiful.  Our daughter Christine came to visit during this time and was able to sit on the back porch and watch and watch.  They are so much fun  (the birds, Christine is fun too; but, in a different way).  She left on Tuesday last week.  On Wednesday, no birds.  Our 3 faithful are still here.  The flock has left the building.
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I figure they were migrating south for the winter and got waylaid by the healthy feast we had provided.  Not one has said thank you.  Not one has sent a note.  Just "poof" and no birds.
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I noticed that when we stepped out on the porch, the birds flew to the trees.  We would sit, and they would return in a moment or two.  The dogs could be on the back porch barking, screaming, running, howling - you name it.  This did not affect the hummingbirds at all.

Sometimes I talk about my wirehair dachshunds.  Not true!  I always talk about my wirehair dachshunds.  This is a photo taken in 2004 - about the time I retired and we moved into the motorhome for 3 years of traveling.  L to R  Fritz (about 3 yrs old),  Greta (4), and Liesl (1). 
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You won't feel like I do.  This photo just made me sit and smile when I found it on the computer. Liesl is so pretty and young.  She has grown more hair on her face since then.  Greta looks pretty much the same - a ball of fiery fur - the most beautiful blond I have ever known.  Fritz died this year.  He was such a fabulous, handsome black and tan...Hungry - let's eat now - where's the beef? I miss him still.
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Now that I put the old guys on, I suppose I will have to put an update photo and a photo of the twins:  Oscar and Bruno.
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My wife walked this morning down the road.  On our front walkway she found a dead baby copperhead snake about 7-8 inches in length.  For those who don't know, baby copperheads have a lime green tail about 3/4 inches long.  This snake's tail had begun to lose the green color indicating it was a bit over...still a killer, but older.
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The snake had been cut in half.   The back half just was there on the sidewalk.  The front half was in a gooey pile where it had been eaten and regurgitated  (thrown up for those of limited verbal skills).  Throw up.  There is no better way to see a snake.  My question is who killed the snake and ate him?   My feeling are it might have been the roadrunner.   I don't know.  As we say:  the only good copperhead is a dead copperhead.
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Do armadillos eat snakes?  Whole and Alive?.
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I haven't mentioned the frogs and lizards that are all over this land.  It is time to close.  Lunch is ready.  Guacamole salad and enchiladas.   My wife is so good to me.
mtz