October 2003 Archives

Before delving into the fun, here’s a good place to find out about the history of Halloween and other related articles about the night of fright.

At Office del T-Bone, several people transform themselves from mundane office robots into all sorts of things for Halloween. They often decorate their rows of cubicles in a theme, and dress up to match it. There’s also an officewide costume contest, and at 4 p.m. there’s a trick-or-treat time for employees’ children. It’s all in fun and makes for a light and fluffy day here at work.

Halloween being on a Friday this year, the chance that you’ll wake up tomorrow morning with a monster hangover wearing something bizarre are higher (I mean, over the usual odds of that happening on any given Friday).

Still wondering about your costume? As a public service, I’ve compiled a few brainstorm ideas that may help you slip into something more frightening, funny or just plain bizarre:

So it was kind of a stretch to say that love and pizza are similar because you always remember your first one. Not everyone remembers their first pizza (Shakey's thin-crust cheese and pepperoni, c. 1977. Yeah, I'm a little weird!).

However, if you've ever owned a car, that first one is indelibly marked in your memory. Here in Texas, where public transportation is getting better but is still a bit spotty, most teen-agers salivate over the prospect of their very own set of wheels. It's freedom. It's power. It's cool. So much of our identities – at least in traffic – are tied to what kind of car we drive and how we drive it.

My first car was a two-door coupe, candy-apple red, gleaming chrome, rumbling small-block V-8, red vinyl bucket seats, mag wheels, power mirrored sunroof and state-of-the-art stereo system. It was a ...

Yesterday I compared a yearning for more true friends with pepperoni pizza. Today, I’ll go a step further.

Here’s a list of things love and pizza have in common:

I hope I never see a sign like the one pictured above – whether while I'm behind the wheel or simply moving through life. Time stops for no man, and time is our most important nonrenewable resource. I want a green light! Now!

With the end of Daylight Saving Time on Sunday, I've been given the gift of daylight during my daily jogs, which start about 6:30 each morning. Metaphorically, I've been privy to the cleansing power of daylight in several aspects of my life. Basking in light doesn't change a reality that is intact in the darkness, but it sure can improve one's focus. And that's what it has done for me. The changing of the seasons is something that happens whether we pay attention to it or not. I'm paying attention, and allowing changes in me that will make me a better person.

Here are a few turning points to ponder:

[Imagine found here]

I saw a great TV show Saturday that I’d never seen before – Trading Spaces: Boys vs. Girls.

For people like us who have scorned a multi-channel existence and rely only on broadcast TV for idiot-box programming, this was quite a find. I’ve seen TLC’s adult version of Trading Spaces, and have enjoyed the transformations portrayed, but always thought, “There’s no way I would be happy with that in my house.” The time and budget constraints mean the results often lack some of the polish that real-world projects can provide over time and with more money. Plus, I’m all for doing that sort of thing myself after scouring others’ ideas and realizing what it is we want.

There are times when only a cliché can express what you’re feeling. If nothing else, clichés are worn out and time-tested because they work in so many places.

Here are some of my personal clichés that, while I don’t use them much anymore, are at the ready at all times, just in case:

Money doesn't really talk, but what if it did? I thought about this after getting one penny back in change today after buying cookies for a co-worker's birthday feast.

The penny was minted in 1976, which means it's been bouncing around for 27 years. Abe's face on it wears time's tarnish, scratches, fingerprints and dirt with pride. But sadly, Abe is silent. How cool would it be if that penny could tell me the stories about where it's been and how it was spent over all those years? It was born in Denver, but who knows where it's been since?

In some ways, money does talk:

1. When you laugh at the expense of others, you still have to pay the tax yourself.

2. The easiest way to sell yourself short is to take yourself too seriously.

3. Pickup trucks are the “mullet” haircut of the automotive world: business up front, party in the back. Funny how so many pickup drivers have mullets. (I drive a truck, but no, I don’t have a mullet. Um, anymore).

4. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. The shoulder of that road is paved with regret. There are several exits if you want to change direction, but it’s harder to exit if you’re using cruise control. Or speeding.

5. The absolute best root beer I ever had came out of the fountain at the Dairy Queen in Holiday, Texas. However, some of the worst service I’ve had, and one of the worst hamburgers I ever ate, was at the Dairy Queen in Holiday, Texas. Sometimes the bad is easier to swallow with a cup of good ("A spoonful of sugar").

Wait, I'm not done yet!

Thanks to all who contributed recipes to T-Bone's Dinner Project. The deadline has passed, but I will still accept recipes indefinitely. However, for the purposes of the contest, in the event of a tie, the one submitted earliest will win. It will take a bit of time for me to compile the savory selections, narrow them down to the best of the best, test the top 5 and select a winner. Afer naming a winner, I will put all the recipes in some sort of format for distribution. Thanks again!

Does your desk at home or work look like this? Of course it doesn't! If your workspace is anything like mine, you've forgotten what the work surface looks like because of filing by piling. Not long ago, my desk was always clean, neat and organized. What changed?

What glorious weather we had this weekend in Dallas/Fort Worth! We probably don’t deserve such raging beauty, endless sunshine, warm-but-not-hot temperatures and slight, lilting breezes. But who cares? Saturday was wonderful, but mostly because it was Father-Son Day at Casa del T-bone while the Petite Filet attended a women’s conference at church.

I’ll spare you tales of diapers, naps and playing with age-appropriate toys. I won’t sing to you some of the Sesame Street songs we listened to. I won’t go into great detail about pushing the Cutlet around the neighborhood in his stroller, getting some much-needed Vitamin D Therapy and Outside Air. You don’t want to hear about the clumps of dog hair he almost ate. Or the few times his little tummy got upset and he refunded some of his breakfast. Or the times he laughed out loud – a perfect melody only God could create.

No, instead, I’ll offer you a few haikus about my weekend:

Wonderful dinner suggestions continue to roll in as part of T-Bone's Dinner Project. I'm planning to cut them off at midnight on Monday (I'll be sleeping then), so if you've got some yummy dinner suggestions, please share. There will be a prize awarded to the person whose recipe is selected the winner.

[Surivovor image from CBS Web site]

I enjoy watching CBS' "reality" vacation show, Survivor. The romance, the adventure, grueling physical challenges, the inadvertent weight loss, creepy crawlies, sunburn, betrayal, gastrointestinal gymnastics, shouting matches ... it all seems so appealing. That is, until I remember my previous island adventure. Then I realize I'm not cut out for cut-throat survival.

I was thinking of the Chicago Cubs fan who snatched a foul ball from the outfielder's glove of his favorite baseball team this week during a crucial game. I share a common experience with that guy that I'll mention in a bit.

Happy Wednesday, people!

Below is a fictional short story I posted late yesterday. If you're not in the mood to read it, why not turn your mind toward food and ponder your favorite eats. Then, if you haven't yet, contribute a favorite recipe to my Dinner Project/Contest. Deadline is next Monday!

Question(s) of the day: What's the last song you sang? Where were you when you belted out that tune?

[image is of Jerry Fisher, former lead singer in Blood, Sweat & Tears. He and his wife apparently run a restaurant in Mississippi now. While there are a few B,S&T songs I find enjoyable, I uploaded the photo because it made me laugh.]

[fiction by Texas T-Bone]

“Mommy! Mommy! Look!” Eddie was breathless from running all the way home. “It’s a tree.” He presented his treasure, a pink-blossoming limb off a crape myrtle tree.

“Whoa there, mister! Slow down. Where did you get that?” she asked, wiping her wet hands on her apron and smiling.

“It fell off Mrs. Nettle’s grape turtle tree down the street. She said I could have it. Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s beautiful. I think we should – um, what did you call the tree?”

So far, I've received some great dinner recipes that promise to deliver deliciousness as part of T-Bone's Dinner Project. Keep them coming! You may either leave a comment here or on the original post, or send an e-mail with dinner suggestions. You may also advertise this project on your own blogs if you like.

Another project I learned of yesterday was an organized blogger music swap. Read about it here. Sign up, share some of your favorite tunes, and broaden your harmonic horizons. During the past few months, some of my favorite bloggers have been kind enough to offer their own mixed CDs. Good stuff!

The question for today, because lately I've been full of questions (among other things): What do you believe is your purpose in life?

T-bone! That's a picture of breakfast, not dinner! You are right. Allow me to explain ...

My favorite meal of the day is breakfast, so I know what I like for breakfast. As for lunch, my preferences vary, but I'm usually in a hurry to simply grab a bite and head back to work. It's not a big deal. But I do have a meal issue that is hard to solve.

We face many choices in life. One of the most important being just exactly what it is that we find important. Setting priorities is tantamount to staying sane because there is practically no way we can do it all. At least not all at one time.

It’s easy to pass judgment on others whose priorities seem out of whack, misaligned, idiotic. Someone deciding not to buy food so they can afford a fancy car won’t be able to drive it from a hospital bed when they collapse from hunger and dehydration. Plus, I don’t believe in fancy cars anymore.

Unless in cases that endanger the safety and well-being of others, the best priority I can muster is to butt out. It’s painfully easy to offer unsolicited advice on the Internet, even where it is not wanted. I’ve been guilty of that sometimes. It is oh-so-tempting to offer opinions in real life, too. But I’m trying to learn to let go better.

I inherited the “know-it-all” gene from one of my parents, a trait that is mislabeled simply because in reality I know very little. It’s connected to the “hard-headed gene” and the “packrat gene,” which I’ve been able to suppress and vent by way of being married to someone with the same afflictions and an annual garage sale.

In my defense, I do possess more than my share of common sense – something that doesn’t make me perfect, but can get me through many sticky situations. That and patience, humility and a sense of humor has kept me out of trouble for the most part.

My priorities are pretty simple:

There’s no doubt blogging is a powerful tool for spreading news, messages and opinions. More and more personal blogs are springing up in all their online-diary glory, sparkling for a few moments, and then fading into the darkness just as quickly. Not blogging renders the power ineffective. Stop exercising the muscle, and the muscle stops working.

Check out this link courtesy of Santo. It’s a seemingly scientific study of how many blogs are abandoned, how often blogs are updated, and by whom on the top blogging servers. I would have been more interested in why people start blogs, but science can’t measure everything in such a survey. I found it interesting, and apparently my fellow bloggers and I who update regularly have a lot in common with teen-age girls. Well, blogwise that is. Also, the survey found those who enjoyed writing were more likely to stick with it. Can I get a “Duh!” from the peanut gallery?

It’s the current human nature, I think, to start a lot of things that are never finished. Here are some examples:

I imagine most Internet-savvy people have done a search to see how many times their names pop up online. Yesterday, in a moment of day-almost-over boredom, I Googled for images relating to my [real, genuine, actual] name. No photos of me appeared, but what did were two fellows whose names mirror mine. One guy is rather goofy looking, the other looks rather normal.

Do an image search for "t-bone" or "texas t-bone" yields all sorts of funny pictures, including the above image from a steakhouse Web site. That place probably has framed pictures of its menu items hanging on the walls. Everybody knows that kind of decor is best suited for the home! No photos of me came up on those searches, either. Maybe I'm a little disappointed in that.

I love the Sunday Travel section in my local newspaper. I read stories of faraway places, enjoy the pictures of places I’ve never been and scan the ads for some hidden vacation bargain we might be able to afford. That glimpse into the unknown is why I still occasionally read National Geographic, which has renowned photography and brilliant writing on some fantastic places and topics.

There was a blurb this past Sunday on a travel book titled 1,000 Places to See Before You Die, by Patricia Shultz. According to the description appearing in the paper, and another one found here, the book is a first-person account of where to go, when and how to get there, what you’ll see when you do, etc., at 1,000 “must-see” places. Great book, right?

My weeklong vacation is over now, and I'm back with my nose to the grindstone. It was nice to go out and see things and still sleep in our own bed. I'm sure if the Cutlet would talk, he'd say "Yes, my crib is where it's at, yo."

Things I learned or was reminded of on my vacation this past week:

Let me say for the record once again that I HATE yard sales. I don't shop at them. I don't like driving by them. I sure don't like having one.

We're continuing to go through our junk today for the 2003 edition of Casa del T-Bone's Cleanout. You might be wondering, "If you hate yard sales so much, T-Bone, why are you having one?" Here are five reasons why:

Well, folks, after today my vacation is over. Sure, I've got the weekend to enjoy, but I always do. And I'll be doing "work" anyway.

Here's what we did yesterday:

We ventured out to the Fort Worth Zoo on Wednesday to see the animals. Little did we know it was going to be a Music Fest of animalistic proportions! We saw the Eagles, the Byrds, the Turtles and a jaguar that was hard of hearing who I swore was a def leppard. Skipped the reptiles, but there was surely a Whitesnake in their writhing around and making unpleasant sounds.

The zoo was great fun, but the giraffes were too far away and we couldn't find the zebras. No complaints there! The photo above was taken at the zoo in the Texas Wilds area. There's a wild-west "town" there with food and stuff.

After the zoo, we headed to the Fort Worth Stockyards. It's painful to admit, but we've lived a stone's throw from the place for four years and hadn't been there. It's the Cow Town part of Fort Worth, and we even saw the daily cattle drive of Longhorns down Exchange Street. Yeehaw!

Tuesday was a post-fair recovery day from fried food and allergies, so we didn't do a whole lot. There was plenty I should have been doing when this picture of the Cutlet sleeping on me was taken, but I didn't care. Sometimes you've got to stop and just watch your baby sleep. Besides, it gave my mind a chance to wander. Sadly, my mind hasn't come back to me, so if you see it out walking around, tell my mind I miss it.

Today we're planning to hit the Fort Worth Zoo. Hope that if there are any zebus there, they won't steal our cup o' feed like the one at the State Fair did.