Blog (entry) of all Blogs (length)

With forethought, I ask forgiveness.  This may be the longest written blog in my entire career -- and I use the "career" word with a obvious, small tongue-in-the-cheek.  I plan to work on this one for a while as the day wears down.  So much to do and say, and nothing of earth shaking importance.  You give up your time to read my missive.  I should give up my time to provide something of moral or educational context.  On the other hand, I have not done it much in the past, why should December 31st of 2020 be much different?

A while back, I started reading some guy's blog about who knows what.  It went on for page after page - "HE," delivering what he considered brilliance on his own chosen subject - "ME," giving my all to complete my self-assigned reading task with glazed-over eyes.   I gave it up.  Which brings me to question:  What is the purpose of this little bluggy O' mine?  That's right.  You got it.  No purpose except to write.

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I am reading a series of books loaned to me by my #1 daughter Christine.  {We call her #1 because she was born first.}  The books are part of a fantasy series written by David Eddings and his lovely wife Leigh.  Never met them; but, she must be lovely.  Mustn't - Isn't she?  The 1st five books were The Belariad and the 2nd series of five is The Malloreon.   Fantasy - made  up world - sword play - magic - sorcery - lots of Kings and evil evil evil people.   In addition to these 10 books, he wrote separate books about Belgarath and another about Polgara, their autobiographies. Finally, a 13th book called the Rivan Codex.  I suggest you save this latter book for a time in your life when nothing else is important.  It is a rehash of everything. He does dip into his writing methods - a bit of ancient history - his scholarly background - some of his autobiography - and his research methods.  So as he explains, that gives him 13 books on this subject.  There you go.  Idle time is the Devil's workshop.

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It rained yesterday - we got an inch and a half.  It started raining again last night (early morning).  The weatherman projected more water today.  So far, he is right.  Continual downpour.   My backyard, or as we call it after this amount of rain - Lake Metze - is swamped.  If I lived close to the water's edge, I would be fearful of being flooded out.  Luckily my house sets on a hill looking down upon the back yard.  Wear your boots if you plan to slide down the hill.

It is times like this with so much water - let's call it a rain event - I worry that my front yard will leak under my house, and we will all slide down the hill becoming a houseboat - albeit, a houseboat on the bottom of the lake.  Hey, it could happen.

When I arose this morning about  8:30, I looked out front at the rain gauge.  It was showing over three inches.  Next, a peek at the radar on the phone.  There is a column of water extending south of us for a few hundred miles, all leaking its way northeasterly (what a word) towards my back yard.  If indeed it continues as the weather guru says for the remainder of the day - Richland-Chambers lake will fill to the brim.   

Now, that is a sight.  When they open the gates up at the DARN  (I just can't write the other word, this is a family blog), when they open the gates, that is a sight watching the pillars of spilling flood.   Below the "Darn" is a swampy area which fills until the rains eventually filters into the Trinity river - a few miles east - down the way.

Even as I type at 10 a.m., the rain continues to pour upon our roof.  "Rain on my roof."   I see myself swamping out front to empty the rain gauge sometime in the near future as we near 5 inches.  We have rain events like this at times.  It rained over 14 inches a year ago at one time.   Another time the lake was down about 200 to 300 feet from the normal shoreline and the rains came.  It filled our lake to the brim in less than 24 hours.  That's a lot of water folks.  17 inches of rain as I remember it.    It would be nice if the rain god could figure this out and give us a sprinkle or two during July and August.

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The house is quiet.  The wife meddles with her I phone stuff.   I sits here doing this.  The dogs have curled up in three different locations waiting - yes, waiting for the rain to stop.  Oscar cannot go outside and chase balls in the rain.  Actually, he could.  His ball thrower (me) won't slush forth.   Sadie finds it uncomfortable to wade out back even to bark at the squirrels.  Apparently, squirrels do have some brains and stay concealed during rain events.   Bruno, my big boy, is unconcerned either way.  Give him a cookie and a cushion to caress.  His massive bladder can fill to over-flowing, and he'll wait.  Rain.  "Why me?" he asked.

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In the back yard over by the ancient wood pile lies a low area leading up to the "sea" wall  ("lake" wall if you are a purest).  This has filled with water in some places to over a foot high or more.  The water from the surrounding hill tops flow into Lake Metze caught momentarily by the piles of cut wood - a wall of wood hunks if you will.    We moved here in 2008.   Some trees were cut and stacked neatly.  They were never used.  Snakes, spiders, lizards, creatures of all kinds find refuge in that wood pile - now serving as a lake retention wall.   Lake Metze flourishes.

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I took a break to go get naked in the bathroom.  Now there is a sight many of you might wish you had never envisioned.  It is much like the picture of the 500 lb guy on the beautiful, sunny beach wearing a bright red Speedo.  You simply can't forget some things you have seen.  With my refreshing early morning break completed, I walked out of the bathroom to a chorus of dogs barking - at me - standing by the back door.  In the sprinkle we went out and added fluid to the saturated grass.  Bruno, the most insistent, provided a bit of fertilizer to the lawn.  He is such a good boy...considerate, warm, appreciative, and very loud when it is poo time and NOBODY IS PAYING ATTENTION!!!

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About 11  (that's a.m.), grabbing an umbrella I swam out front and emptied the rain gauge:   4 3/4"   And, the rains still come.  The 11 o'clock news shows snow out west - as much as 5 inches.  Sure, poor slobs in Michigan or New Hampshire or Canada or North Dakota - or wherever, they might make fun of 5 inches.  Down here, that is a major pile.  I pause now to say that our trash man has cometh.  The house is filled with the sound of screaming dogs.  

Boy, was I wrong.  It was two labs from down the street.  They have broken out of their invisible fence and are roaming the neighborhood.  They are nice dogs - big.  As far as I can tell, they do no wrong.  Perhaps they can kill a snake or two.  What's wrong with that?  The trash man is not here.  His barking festival awaits us.

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Christmas has come and gone.  My entire immediate family came.  This house gets busy with ten people and eleven dogs.  Luckily the weather was fairly nice, and the dogs went outside during meals. I do have relatives who just might feed a dog from the table.  That would have created a swarming mob of dogs awaiting their share of turkey.  Didn't happen.  All of our dogs are pretty small.  Seven are dachshunds, 3 are pekingese or a close imitation, 1 basset, and one doxie/bigger dog mix.    The fellowship was fine.  The food was plentiful.  And, I got to sit in my own comfy chair a few times.  That's fine.  I was happy.

My children three and my wife have ganged up on me in the past about Christmas presents.  I was forbidden to give presents.  "Nobody is giving presents at Christmas."  It is too expensive.  No presents.  We have tried drawing names at Christmas.  No, not anymore.  So in defiance, I looked for little things to give to each - one year I gave fire extinguishers - another, was the year of automatic nightlights which worked when the power goes out.  I crafted a couple of years.

So what happens this year?  I gave no presents as ordered.  However, in turn each child gave me presents.  They were quite valuable / good / thoughtful / etc.  I must be getting old and guilt is taking root in their houses.  Next Christmas, do I follow my instructions?  Woe is me.  If it is up to my wife, we will give nothing and ignore Christmas all together.  It can be a trying time.

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Instead of individual gifts, we have a tradition dating back to the 60s,  We have a grab-bag, as it is called locally.  Misc. gifts are loaded in a pile.  We draw numbers and select a present from the pile.  The next person can pick a present or steal from another person.  There are other rules.   Usually, there are enough presents in the pile to go several rounds, drawing a new number each round.   

This particular game was introduced to me at a teacher's Christmas party years ago.  At the time, we were having money problems - teachers are not rich.  So, I gathered many small things together and created a small pile.  There was a wrench, a hammer, a work light, misc. tools, candy, etc.  There was maybe one very small child in our family at the time (Christine).  We traveled to my parents house, and I introduced the rules to my 3 unmarried brothers and my parents.   It was well received.  I saved a bit of money.  I didn't have to select individual gifts for each person.  And, my father and brothers enjoyed stealing from each other.  A good time was had by all.

The game continued over the years as each brother married and brought children into the mix.  We never had major problems with the game - well, maybe when my oldest brother Marshall started stealing gifts to make his daughter Marion happy (not her idea by the way).  We've had gifts in the pile from a wilted bouquet of flowers up to unset jewels given by Marshall.  I can remember a grabbag a few years back at niece Sharla's house which had an enormous pile and 25 or more players.  It was nearly a riot.  Try it.  Start small.  Inexpensive gifts.  It will grow.

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We had Christmas on Christmas Eve.  Christine had to travel home for work on Christmas day.  I smoked a big turkey and 6 extra turkey legs.  Roger works for United Foods in Lubbock and gets a free turkey each year.  It was big and good.  Thank you United Foods.  Leftovers remain in my freezer.  Naturally, we had all the extras: cranberry junk, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, mashed potatoes with turkey gravy, etc.  

Since I joined my wife's family in 1962, my family was introduced to Czech cuisine.  Her mother was a Macha (from the Kahanek clan)  and spoke no English until starting school.

You see Kolaches all the time in Texas.  Kolaches are rolls with fruit on / in them.  Today, many stores call anything a Kolache if it is cooked and has something in it.   Klubasniks (spelling wrong) are rolls with meat.  We rarely have Kolaches.  We have Klubasniks  here.  My mother-in-law would make yeast dough early in the morning then wrap the rolls around German sausage.  There would be piles of these on the table.  Since it was before my diabetes struck, I would eat half the pile if possible.  No sense sharing.

Now, my wife is making the meat rolls (solved my spelling problem).  #2 daughter Laura has even made a few recently.  They are sooooovery  good.   With MUSTARD of course.

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Just dawned on me.  I have a smart phone (sometimes too smart).  "Look it up turkey-face."  

It is spelled klobasnek.  Definition from smart phone:   "A klobasnek is a chiefly American Czech savory finger food.  Klobasneks are similar in style to pigs in a blanket or sausage rolls.  But the meat is wrapped in kolache dough.  Unlike kolaches, which came to the U.S.A. with Czech immigrants, klobasneks were first made by Czechs who settled in Texas."   (Wikipedia)     

So there you go.  Klobasneks may be better than the grabbag (with MUSTARD).

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It is time to stop.  I may return and talk more later.  May not.  Let me leave you with an email forward from my friend Jay:

y'all take care until next time

Mtz

MikeMetze

M3

Fun time in Metzeville

 The title is purposely misleading.  I warned you right up front though.  With all the happenings, there are few fun times on my back porch - or the front porch for that matter.  We go from day to day, and exist.  Is that what you are doing?  sorta sad, really.

I learned long long ago that if I make fun of myself, others have less leverage.    Follow this stone if you can.  I went to town on the 8th of December; that was Tuesday over a week ago.  It was time for my 6 month visit to the Dermatologist, who lovingly burned something red of the tip of my nose.  I might add here that he is Dr. Biltz.  His office and work rooms in his facility are covered with Texas Tech  memorabilia  - photos, etc.  I feel sorta close to anyone that likes Tech this much.  One of his staff told me (a while back) that they get together at Christmas and buy him Tech things as presents.        Good Staff.  Wise staff.

So, back to my stone, I went to town and visited the Dermatologist.  Next, I drove to our new storage space and unloaded a few more boxes.   On the way home, I stopped off at our HEB grocery store and bought just a few things.  Primarily I went in there for big bags of dog food.  We were running short, and eating is Bruno's favorite hobby.  You add bananas, tortillas, half gallon of milk and a few minor items, I was up to $70.23.

But, moving on.  Now get this visual concept.  My car is a Ford Flex - 3 row.  All back seats fold down - almost flat.  When I carry boxes to the shed, all seats fold flat, and I fill the back with boxes.  I fill to the ceiling.  Okay, that day was over.

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On December 3rd - a Thursday - we (my spouse and I) went to town with a load of boxes - ate at CiCi's Pizza, bought gas, ended up at HEB.  Let's see now, that was the third.  Today is the 17th.  We have carried stuff in the back of the Flex on 3 separate occasions to the storage shed since the trip to HEB on the 3rd: my trip, another "us" trip, and a trip for the wife's haircut on another.  Stuff was in the back of the car on each trip.

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Moving on.  Today, to town we went.  No eat out -- just a stop over at post office and on to HEB.  We will be having company over the next 2 weeks, and this was our grocery run to stock up.  We did.  We certainly stocked up.   Yes.   To the tune of $307.89, we stocked up.  Grocery prices have been soaring since that persistent bug came to Texas.  Mission accomplished, we drove home after a short stop over at What-a-burger.  I was hungry.  I get hungry.   Bruno and I both like the eating hobby.   Two big burgers for under $10.  I remember when we could buy burgers 5 for a $1.  They were terrible, but cheap.

Now we are home.  Unloaded the back of the car.  It took 4 trips each to move the supply inside.  On a whim, as I made my last journey to the car, I decided to look in the middle seat area to see if any food had wormed its way to the front.  The back had been packed so full with those flimsy plastic bags.  To my surprise on the floor of the middle seats - between the two captain chairs - was a two lb. plastic package of hamburger.  We buy the two pounders and divide them before they go into the freezer.  Here was a 2 lb package of hamburger (96/4 blend).  Would you call that luck finding the burger meat?  It would certainly seem to be.

It wasn't.  Nope.  I had a long talk with myself and the spouse.  We have not bought any hamburger since December 3rd.  That package of raw meat had set on the floor of the car for 3 additional trips to the storage shed.  It didn't smell. It didn't leak.  It just set there waiting to find us.

Here is the question.  Since it has been fairly cool lately - even freezing some nights - and the car has been left out side - the temperature has never been over, let's say, 60 degrees in the past two weeks.  Would you eat that hamburger?  Or would you divide it and let your dogs devour it - and yes it would be gone in less than 15 seconds - what would you do?  It's best to think these things out before they happen to you.  You never know, Charley.

We didn't open the package.  Who wants to smell rotten meat?  That is a smell that should be left anywhere else.  And we did.  The trash man cometh tomorrow morning.   He can open the package if he wishes.  good luck with that Ferdinand.

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Speaking of the trash men.  I have been emptying the garage.  While gobs of stuff have made the trash pile, most items were boxed and sent to the storage shed to be researched later.  Garage Sales in the countryside are less than satisfying.  In the garage I had 2 dead computer monitors, 3 dead printers, a couple of destroyed computers, plus one big box of old computer and VCR stuff.   I put it out last Friday; and, it is gone.  They are such good people.  My wife is happy.  When the wife is happy, everybody is happy.

My Ford Flex has spent the last 2 nights encased in the garage (guarding the 2 lbs of burger).  I assume the Flex is happy.  The Marauder is still outside and will not start.  I think it's mad.

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Let's stop now before I insult someone.

Y'all take.  Look forward to the Holidays.   They only come once a year.

mtz

Sunday Morning - obit

 'Tis Sunday morning

With nothing to do

Stuck at home

It makes me blue.

.And with that touch of fine poetry, I shall continue.

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As explained earlier, I am cleaning out the garage.  I have moved enough into town to almost, not quite, fill a 10 x 15 storage space.  Now the question we should all ask:  Do I have enough valuables in the space to warrant spending that much money on a storage space for stuff?  Sure, there are photos and gadgets and trash all around.  My books fill many a space.  I have 18 (smaller) boxes filled with old National Geographic Magazines.  I quit subscribing a few years back when it became obvious that N.G. was trying to move social issues forward.  I'm frankly a bit tired of people telling me that letting a 5 year old child choose his  (I must say "or her" for political correctness  "his/her")  own sexual identity is required of all wonder parents.  Yet. n.g. does that.

But, that is off my subject.  Storage of items is somewhat necessary when one cannot find the ability to secure a trash can.  

My thought is, we need to move to be closer to at least one of our permanent children.  Since we have an aversion to the cold weather and sand storms of the Panhandle, that only leaves the Round Rock area.  They have good hospitals down there, and, of course, crazy liberal politicians dreaming up new forms of torture for our own good.  As an example:  Austin doesn't allow stores to give out grocery sacks - plastic grocery sacks - to customers.  You must bring your own.  So stupid; but, we are saving the planet.   Surely, people will bolt against this type of nonsense in the future.  Surely.

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The shots for the disease are on the way.  Naturally, they won't be distributed until after Christmas.  At least the plan is to get them distributed.  I wait.

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Today is Friday the 13th except in December it comes on Sunday.  Rejoice.

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This next bit is a bit maudlin - me thinks that is proper use of the word.

I've ranted before about our local newspaper going down to 2 issues a week.  They try to say that it makes it a better paper.  I believe they are headed for closing down - you should work to make things bigger and better.  You should budget for growth.  They are not.  The are budgeting for  their demise.

Now, for the paper to list all of the weekly obits, sometimes it mus use  up to 2 pages an issue for the obits.  My copy of Saturday's paper is somewhere up the hill in the trash can or I would type you more info.  There were two  obits that caught my eye.  One was for a preacher man.  Most obits are no longer than one column - at the most - this one was three full columns of praise.  His name is not important - here - I'm sure it is important to his people  (see below).  Three full columns.  That's a lot.  A Baptist preacher man can have a very full obit.

Another was typical length.  This guy was apparently your regular Joe.  Raised in Port Arthur, the obit describes his activities (pool, yo-yo, motorcycles, fishing...) and his eating & drinking habits.  I would have a tendency to make fun of these descriptions;  but, his people might set a alligator in my backyard.  That wouldn't be fun.

Obits are not written by the deceased.  They are written by his friends or family.  I'm sure some people would be embarrassed by their own obit's descriptions.  Others might swell with pride.  The preacher went by two initials:  BF.  Not once did they think to give his real full name.  BF was BF, Jr.   His father was BF, Sr.   The article included a paragraph about the father's career.   I'd never seen that done.  That's different.  But were their names BF or Benjamin Franklin or  Burt Fred?  Nobody will ever know.  A hundred years from now as someone is researching ancestry, that person will be slightly held back from knowing.

We have two funeral parlors in town that do most of the business.  One is Griffin-Roughton and the other is  Corley.   You can look up the obits if you want more info.  The red neck one is printed below.  It is really worth the trouble to read. 

I found the preacher:    He had a full preaching life.  Good for him; his children are proud.

REV. B. F. RISINGER, JR.

January 9, 1938 - December 8, 2020

Now I have found the other one.  Somebody might google his name and think that I am making fun.  Well, I am to a certain degree.  But, I'm not trying to.  His family wrote the obit.  I'm sure he was a nice guy...a terrific friend.  I plan to change his name in the obit that I am printing below.  I hope I don't miss something. Enjoy.

The question  (of course):  should we all write our own obits before it is too late?  It is something to ponder.

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James' Obituary

James Coach passed away December 8, 2020, at the age of 74.  (Keep in mind that I am changing some of the names to protect the innocent - me - if you must know the names go to Corley's funeral home.)

James was born February 2, 1946 in Youngstown, Ohio to Choreen and John Coach, Sr.  Growing up as the oldest with his brothers Frank and Edward and his sister Wanda in Port Arthur, James was yo-yo champion. He and his brother Frank would make money while doing yo-yo and playing pool. He even won his sister a bicycle by yo-yo and pool. Taking his role of big brother very seriously, he made sure his younger siblings always had Easter baskets and Christmas presents. He continued that role into his teenage years when he took the time to teach his little sister Wanda how to dance – including how to do the Mashed Potatoes. He was a great dancer and a good-looking young man. With his gift of gab, he always had many friends. James always wore a starched white shirt, which his sister always ironed for him. He loved spending time with his cousins Larry, Darrel, and Sandra, and cutting up and causing mischief for all, including his brother Frank. They were always getting beer in Louisiana and then driving back to Texas in the old Ford. He loved to fish and go crabbing as well. James would ride his bicycle to Pleasure Pier in Port Arthur to catch crabs and put in a bushel basket and ride home. James went to Woodrow Wilson and Thomas Edison High Schools in Port Arthur, Texas.

James was the real deal. His first two marriages, from high school and right after, resulted in two beautiful daughters each: Amara and Sarie from the first, and Fawn Sarie  and Shana Sarie  from the second. His current wife is Melba.  James deeply loved his family and friends. He loved Cajun food and spending time with his cousin Sandra and Rusty during Mardi Gras. He enjoyed fishing with Darrell and Larry and shooting guns with his niece Gathy. He loved chocolate pie from his cousin Shawie (who he called Meaness) and drinking beer on the porch and having long talks with his daughter and his son-in-law Joel. He enjoyed fixing cars with his friend Randy, and he loved riding motorcycles and being in his motorcycle club. James helped everyone.

James supported his family working as a maintenance mechanic and foreman at an envelope factory. When he wasn’t hard at work, he was hard at play. When he was younger, James always took the family camping at Sam Rayburn, and enjoyed fishing more than just about anything. He would fish in the morning and water ski in the afternoon. He also spent vacations in Galveston with Barry and Sarah. He also enjoyed playing pool, yo-yo, crabbing, and playing Cajun music with his cousins. James was pretty Cajun and a proud Coon Ass, so sitting on the porch and enjoying a Budweiser with family and friends was just about perfect – even better if he could have some gumbo, red beans and rice, or boudin.

I'll cut here - no need in listing the entire family or funeral arrangements.  Doesn't this guy James sound like a fun guy?  I'd better that half of east Texas was his friend.      

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time to pause until next time.

see ya, (what alligator?)

m                  

The Gatherings

 This has nothing to do with human gatherings or spirits gathering or all animate objects gathering.  If you're hoping to read something about a haunted house of creatures or a field of restless zombies all "Gathering" to assault the world, you have come to the wrong blog.  I have never been able to get into the zombie thing.  Now I like a few of the space creature or ancient sorcerer getting together - assuming the bad ones are eliminated by the end of the adventure.  We move on.

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Back in high school I read a book by H. Allen Smith called Lost in the Horse Lattitudes.  I can't say I remember much about it.  Surely I picked it up at the local Hockley County Library after I had finished reading all of their Wizard of Oz books.  There was quite a series of those.  I cannot remember my age - but I enjoyed the book.  I seem to remember it as a glommed together of several short happenings (stories) haphazardly lumped together in to a moderately sized book, easily read.   My spell check doesn't like the word "glommed."   You don't suppose that "glommed" is not a real word, do you?

I enjoyed that book.  Since I can't find it among my junk, I must have found it at the library.  Yes, I would like to reread it someday.  Maybe it is on amazon.  First of all, consider that I have remembered the title and author for over 60 years and tears.  That in itself is remarkable for me.  One story stayed with me all this time, the details of which I have forgotten.  H. Allen Smith wrote about an uncle (may have been a cousin or grandparent) who was a bit strange.  He kept a gallon jar under his bed filled with his toenail clippings.

That haunts me.   

I have trouble getting my toes up high enough to properly clip...much less collect.

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Which brings me to Gatherings.   He gathered his toenail clippings in a gallon jar.  I'm sure his heirs were appreciative.   Over the years, I have Gathered things.  Most folks consider my gatherings to be innocuous  (ooooo, ooooo, be jealous of me for using that word).  For many years I would pick up match books and file them away.  For a while I put a wire across the wall and hung them up to display.  Then, one year, as we were considering leaving Ardmore, my family encouraged me to sell them in a yard sale (actually a backyard sale).   $5 - a sizable sum in those days.  My matchbooks went to some poor slob.  I miss those matchbooks.  Some were quite interesting - to me.

Later I started picking up business cards.  I had several.  Then, I received a letter (pre-email times) in which a cousin told me about a dying child who collected business cards, and how much joy he had when more business cards arrived.  This was before I became calloused about "scams."  I thought for a while about it.  I mailed all of my cards to the child - all of my collection - truly just a small box.  Never did I hear back or receive a thank you note.  I was a tad bit bitter.  Too late.  That was in Amarillo.   The kid was somewhere in the Midwest like Ohio or Iowa.  Never could tell those two states apart.

Life went on.  When I moved from Amarillo, I dumped my 10 year collection of Instrumentalist Magazine in a trash bin.  All gone.

Years passed.  Christine (#1 daughter, the eldest) was on the Texas Tech plant judging team.  How about that.  They traveled to Florida for a competition.  We were living in Plano when we saw her next; she brought Florida gifts.   Mine was a Disney key ring.  As a mere offhand remark, I said, "I guess I am collecting key rings now."   That was the "Event."  I now have a few thousand key rings ... maybe hundreds is more accurate (so who's counting?).  

I have almost quit acquiring / buying key rings.  One day I had an Epiphany.  One can't own a copy of every key ring produced in the world.  You can try, but you will fail.  The last one I bought was from Buc-ees in Ennis.  It sets on the kitchen table next to the salt shaker.  Cute little critter.

That reminds me.  We were visiting my mother in Levelland many years back.  I had been given a small music box.  I made the remark, "I would love to own 100,  no 200, music boxes to display on one wall."  I should have paraphrased that remark for you, the reader.  Immediately I caught myself.  What was I thinking?  I backed up and explained to all within hearing range that I only wanted the 200 if I could get them all at one time.  No dribbling in of music boxes.  All 200 at once or none at all.

It was too late.  The idea had already taken root.  I started receiving one or two every "present giving" day.  The collection (or gathering, if you will) had begun.  I get blamed for collecting stuff, but it is not all my fault.   I do not think I have reached 200 music boxes yet.  For the past 12 years, they have been collecting dust on a wall in the garage.  Our house is too small to offer a display option.   I do love music boxes.  Once in my early years with my computer Excel program, I did try to inventory all my key rings and music boxes.  Eventually, that project failed.

Well, folks, I'm gonna sum this up.  I have other collections.   Being a Republican, I thought it would be fun to own a stuffed elephant.  That gathering has grown and grown.  Branching out from stuffed elephants, all sorts of elephants, I have.  I'd betcha that I have a hundred around here somewhere.  

Of course, I have several dachshunds - not only the live models - but others to look at. Some are quite nice.    CD's, Recordings, Tapes, VCRs, you get the picture.  I once owned many many band records - 33 rpm.  I put an adv. on ebay and sold them all to some guy back east.   I need to do that with SOME of my other stuff.     Louis L'Amour books, I have them.  The "Wheel of Time" series by Robert Jordan - they are here.  Decks of Cards - ?  of course, I have several.  My list of stuff gathered perhaps shows my age.   Did I mention the piles of postcards?  Some go back to the early 1900s.  They are fun to hold and read.  Innocuous messages scrawled in the early morning hours by people I'll never meet (there I used the word twice in the same bluggy).

I do love stuff.  M&Ms are just fun to have.  Coca-Cola.  Hobbit books - Harry Potter stuff - just plain workman tools ---  I'll stop here with the question:   What do you have gathered among your things.  Are they valuable collections, or are they like mine?  I like them.  Locally nobody wants to share my enthusiasm.  Nothing here to adorn the halls of a true museum.    I could spend hours boring you with a tour of my possessions (Too Late).  I Won't - but I Could.  Time to move on.  Today is my day to check the financial books in preparation for our next month of hibernation.  Then, this afternoon, with true joy in my heart - I mow the leaves in the backyard.

It never ends.

take care,  "TREES,  LEAF  ME  ALONE!!!"

Mtz (#3)

Clean out / up

 Maybe it is the epidemic - or maybe it is my age (does turning 80 make you want to buy a Ferrari?)  Whatever the reason, I have started cleaning out the garage and other storage places.  We rented a small storage space in town and have made 2 moving trips now.

Originally, I planned to buy a big storage shed for our house.  All that stuff would go inside the shed.  Sheds are expensive.  It is impossible to move a shed into our backyard - too many trees and ditches. Years ago when we lived in Ardmore, I bought a shed from Sears and built it myself - a metal shed.  Then, when we left for Amarillo, I tore it down and moved it with us.  It would not fit in our backyard properly.  I had to cut a hole in the roof to go around a tree trunk.   In Pflugerville, I built another shed - wooden with shingles.  That was fun.  I'm probably too old to climb on top of a shed and install shingles now.

So, over the years, I have done nothing.  No shed = just junk in the garage.  Not good.  What I want to do is have a big, ole garage sale -But (there is always a but) living out in the wilderness, me thinks it would be a worthless activity.  Moving will continue.  My goal is to have my car inside the garage by Thanksgiving.  It is good to have a goal.  Never had a basketball goal.  Never knew a ghoul.

The process of renting a storage unit was involved.  The manager had a process - we followed the process - I believe she had memorized the paragraphs recited.  Of course there was a contract.  I could not sign the contract in the office;  one can only sign the contract online.  Yes, Online.  Later at home, I signed the online contract.  Go Figure.  An online signature is considered more valid than signing, in person, in ink, in the office, in front of witnesses.  Go Figure.

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A little aside:  I've learned over the years that old people should be near an excellent hospital.  You never know what may happen.  Competent medical care is a positive.  There is probably nothing wrong with our hospital in Corsicana.  I don't know.   I have excellent local doctors.  It is logical that being near a Level III hospital (or whatever they are called) - this has to be a good idea.  So, we are working on our brains to justify moving to better area.  We are 20-25 minutes from our hospital now.  If I get bit by a snake, the nearest anti-venom is in Dallas - that would be a helicopter ride.  Sumpin' to think about.

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It took so long to get the unit rented, we decided to eat at CiCi's pizza - a functional pizza place.  It use to be better.  Now, they won't let us get our own salad or pizza.  I find this over-kill.  I've been several places that give you gloves and let you have-at-it.  I prefer to have-at-it.  This young girls behind the counter have no concept about how many cherry tomatoes make a good salad.  It is painful.  the pizza is okay.  Not much variety since the epidemic: in pizza and the salad.  We struggle forth.

I'm sitting there eating my pizza - wait, first - I have this diabetic problem.  I can only eat so much pizza because of the carbs.  I did have my 6 months medical checkup last week.  My A1C is 7.0 right now.  this is an improvement.  Six months ago, I was a 7.6.  I know that most people don't understand the A1C thing.  That's okay.  If you get diabetes, you'll learn.  Back to CiCi's.  I should only eat 3 pieces of pizza.  My wife gets by on only one; and, she is not diabetic.

To make things better, I usually get 2 of each kind that I eat.  Then I scrape off the topping from one onto the other one.  It makes a better piece of pizza; I can tell you.  Years ago, we were traveling from Austin to Houston stopping in the town of Columbia at a CiCi's.  That is where I learned the trick.  There were these 4 BIG boys (teenagers) sitting at a big table.  Beside each was a pile of pizza crust, no toppings.  These guys were getting pizza, eating the toppings, and piling the crust.  I'd guess each had a foot tall pile of crust.  Now, I don't have that kind of nerve.

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Sitting there - at the sparse crowd - I noticed that I was the only male in the place that did not have facial hair: mustaches, beards, massive side burns, you name it.  Does make me special?  At least you can admit that I am a minority.

This brings me to my last observation.  The TV was on - no sound - but on.  Nobody in CiCi's was watching TV.  The only one I could see was a football game. It had to be a rerun.  What college plays football at noon on a Monday?  I could read the teams:  Western Carolina was playing Liberty.  I mean nothing bad when I say that I don't know anything about these two colleges.  That should be no surprise.

I know there is a Western Michigan and  North Texas State - so forth.  Western Carolina bothered me. We have North Carolina and South Carolina.  There is no state named West Carolina.  Is Western Carolina found in North or South Carolina?  Shouldn't it be named Western South Carolina or  Western North Carolina?  Presumptuous to just be called Western Carolina - it seems to me.

Question:  is there a Western Dakota College?  How about a Western South Dakota State?  Or a Northern South Dakota State?  Southern North Dakota State University?  Can you see the possibilities here?  Lots of questions.  South Dakota Western University.  I love this.  If I truly wanted to know, I look it up.  Some questions don't need to be answered - just asked.

over and out

be nice

mtz

Friday the 13th - some church stuff

 I can't let this day pass without at least mentioning that it is Friday, the 13th.  Most times, Friday the 13th comes on a different day than a Friday.  For instance, Friday the 13th comes on a Sunday during December this year.  It is just good to know.  Now you know.

The news is on TV now.  I have given up watching the news.  What can the news possibly do to make my life any better?  It is all depressing.  I've heard that it is good to be informed.  At 80 yrs, why?  I do drop in on the weather man now and then.  Knowing if a tornado is descending upon your head - now, that might be somewhat valuable.  Rarely do we have to watch out for the blizzards or hurricanes around here.  Tornadoes, well, sure.  

The news in Dallas starts at 4:00 and goes till 6:30.  Two and a half hours of the same stuff in repetition  This will make me seem what of a psycho, but I don't trust the news to be accurate.  They lie.  They try to be sensational.  It is all depressing.   My AOL website has a news system.  They are so pro-democrat that nothing they say makes true sense.  I do have a theory.  They are prejudiced in order to get people to argue about the news on their website.  Somehow, they make money off the number of people who argue.  Worthless.  Depressing.  Not for me.

Moving on to a happier note:  Today I mowed my leaves for a third time.  We have so many leaves in the backyard that I consider it unsafe for my short legged dachshunds.  Snakes have not gone away from the neighborhood yet.  Not cold enough.  Snakes could be hidden under any gathering of leaves.  

Pause:  Gathering of Leaves.  I like that expression.  It would be a great title of a book if you could somehow associate leaves with people or children or band members.  Shall we work on it?

Back to the mowing.  I set the mower on a level 3 - cover the outlet hole - and mow.  The leaves are destroyed by the machine.  Nothing is left but tiny leaf bits which begin to mush away with the first watering.  I looked up in my trees.  This will not be the last of my mowing.  You'd hope that the mower could be stashed in hiding come November.  Not in Texas.  Snow in the mountains - grass in central Texas.

It is now 5:37.   NBC news is on the TV - in the other room.   Don't care.  Not gonna do that.

Our local 1st Methodist church has a nice young preacher guy - Stephen Bell.  He announced that he is moving to Shreveport.  This is probably good for him since that area is where he was raised.  Stephen was a great choice for this church when he came here about 5 ?? years ago.  The church was in a turmoil over preachers.  Their long time preacher had been moved up to DFW "over-night" somewhere and another guy sent here.

The locals were mad.  It was done in haste.  The new guy was not liked by several influential people.  I had been appointed to the staff relations committee that previous year and was in the thick of it.  I could write quite a lot about that stupid time.  I believe the church bigwig people laid for the guy to run him off.   Now, that was Christian of them?   I thought his sermons were excellent - he had the soul of a teacher.   And, he taught in his sermons.  Long story short:  New guy left in the middle of the season (run off) and was replaced by a temp who had previously retired - The temp was a good con man and preacher - that is - he knew how to smultz the irrational people.  I really liked the new temp guy.   Talented.

 After an appropriate amount of time, Stephen was moved here.   It was a good move.  The church settled down. He is/was good at working with people and the community.  Money started rolling back in; people returned to church.  Certain positive changes were made.  I do hope his replacement is well received.  I am off that committee.  Don't want back on.  "Rather" watch NBC news.  And life in Corsicana moves forward.

Wish that I had a funny story to leave you with.  (bad English, but factual).    Maybe next time I will discuss the books that I have just finished reading.  I think that I like Miss Marple.

Time for supper.  Leftovers, my favorite.

mtz

80

 I was going to write an essay tonight.  But, I don't feel like it.

Today I turn 80.   My down feeling is not because of the age.

bless you.

m