December 2003 Archives

Now that the festive wrapping paper, dainty little bows and cumbersome cardboard boxes of joy have been put at the curb, and the merriment of Christmas is being packed away until next year, it's time to turn our attention to a New Year, fresh starts and promises to be "better" at something in the coming months.

Do you make New Year's resolutions? I think it's great to strive for a higher plane of living. Too often, however, like promising to get into better shape, exercise more and eat better, by the time March rolls around most resolutionists are sitting on the couch, eating junk food and watching reality TV while the gym membership/treadmill/sweatpants gather dust and neglect.

Some people make sweeping "I want to be a better person" resolutions, which in the end cannot be measured because of vagueness and no objective way to show progress. How are you going to be a better person in 2004?

Here are some suggestions:

We’ll wake up Christmas morning, tear into our gifts, help the Cutlet tear into his, and then drive over toward Dallas to spend the afternoon with my folks, my sister, her son, and her husband.

The next day, the Petite Filet’s parents, her sister and her husband will drive down to our place from Oklie Homer. Then Saturday, my family will come on over to our house and celebrate the Cutlet’s birthday.

I can’t believe the little guy is a year old. Seems like only yesterday ...

Hey, this has always struck me a little funny ... for all four years we've lived in this house, buses have rumbled through the 'hood during Christmastime to see the holiday lights. I'm wondering what kind of people are sitting on the bus, oohing and ahhing at my neighbors' displays.

Here are some questions I'd like to ask them:

I stepped carefully over the puddle, but my left foot still glomped into soft, muddy ground. The firefighters had apparently soaked that end of the house well to quell the flames that had built up inside the chimney, where the firebox meets the flue. The flames licked at the attic rafters, and charred through the roof with heated, unabashed fury.

Fortunately, the family inside escaped without injury. They were sitting in their living room, enjoying the blazing fire inside the fireplace, when they smelled something that didn’t seem right.

If you haven't heard by now, you must have been stuck inside a hole in the ground. Saddam Hussein was captured by U.S. troops on Saturday.

Thousands of innoncent people died at the hands of the evil dictator, and his reign was like a giant thumb keeping the Iraqis down. There is very little humor in the situation, as many American and coalition forces have died in the conflict as well. Hussein's capture is certainly a victory, but far from an end to the dying that is inevitably required to spread democracy (or any new type of political system, for that matter).

My heart goes out to the families whose loved ones are helping fight for freedom, no matter how it is being done, and to those whose loved ones have passed to the great beyond. May most of their returns be welcomed by warm receptions and parades, rather than heralded by somber, rectangular boxes draped with the red, white and blue. God bless America.

On a lighter note (because there can be SOME humor found in most situations):

My new job is fantastic! The people are great, and in the past two days there have been nice surprises (the publisher's wife made everyone great big Christmas wreaths and they buy lunch for the whole staff on Fridays!). It is really strange being hired to be a "boss," but I think I can get used to it OK.

Saturday morning, I'll go in early to put the finishing touches on next week's front page, and then edit/layout the inside sports pages. Hoping all goes well.

Thought I'd relate a funny story that happened on my very first day ...

Our gift-giving budget is TIGHT this year. So tight, it squeaks. That means we are turning to more personal expressions of love for the holidays, and we are hoping that it is the thought that counts. If that doesn't hold true, there are going to be some disappointed members of T-Bone's extended family.

Here's a list of some of the things we gave last year, which was also a time of high spirits and low funds:

My last day at my old job is tomorrow (Wednesday). I’ll start my new job full-time on Thursday. In the meantime, here are a few thoughts about the transition:

Take a look at all the blogs written by famous people, and you’ll see how mainstream the medium has become. It’s no longer the realm of cybergeeks, powerful blowhard anti-establishment pundits and plugged-in underground political activists. From overhyped celebrities to the lonely, isolated teen-age girl struggling to pass algebra ... the word blog almost needs no introduction. A lot of people know all too well about blogs.

Another sign of the mainstreaming of blogs is when the Fort Worth Star-Telegram reprints a story on blogging that originally appeared Nov. 16 in the Washington Post. Written by regular contributor Jennifer Howard, the article focuses on the cult of online personality made possible by blogging. Instead of merely fighting the establishment, blogging has become a force in itself:

This should prove to be a busy weekend, which sort of defeats the purpose of it BEING a weekend. Even God rested on the seventh day. I need a break!

But in the meantime, here's what I'll be doing:

Hey everyone! Have a great weekend! I'll be working my new job on Saturday, then I've got three days left at my old job. We've got a Christmas party to attend Saturday as well. Hoping to get our spartan holiday decorations up sometime. Busy! For your Friday enjoyment, here's a short story to while away your workday. Maybe it will make you feel better about your job ...

[Fiction by Texas T-Bone]

The big man strolled confidently into the coffee shop with an air of royalty, no doubt passed down through his lineage from the damp, dark walls of moldy castles standing in hard-to-pronounce municipalities. Those kingdoms have melted into the less regal surroundings of strip malls, pizza joints, small dusty churches and the occasional bowling alley. But the big man’s hair is still matted from allusions of a family crown upon his noggin.

Confidence unshaken by the dingy table in front of him, the big man takes his coffee, eggs over easy and burned toast in style. His calling is one of higher meaning to civilization. He knows this, and is reminded several times a week when –

“Sulley! Hey, man! Haven’t seen you all week, where have you been?”

It was O’Donnell, a weasel of a man descended from the drafty log cabins of wayward westerners on flat, dull prairies. The big man looked up from his plate and nodded. O’Donnell winked at the waitress and took a spot opposite Sullivan.

This is a format I first saw used by Kelly and subsequently well-employed by my Dallas neighbors Windowsill Wendy and Indigo Steve.

Dear Hotmail Staff,
For years I have been eating at the trough of your free, easy-to-use service. That is, until earlier this week, when you decided to UPGRADE. I think you’ve misused the word: for Apple computer devotees like me, you have managed only to muddle your server by making it operate more like Microsuck Windows.

Good thing I do not rely on Hotmail for business purposes. I can see my messages, but cannot read them. That includes a POLICY REMINDER message from you, Hotmail Staff (which I will promptly delete without giving you the satisfaction of wasting more of my time). Maybe it’s time to switch to Yahoo! Or the ever-reliable Pony Express.

You suck (but thanks for being free),
T-Bone

***

Lately I've been posting more than once a day, but I couldn't tell you why. It just happens. I have a thought and BAM! Why not air it out a little?

One need look no further than this page to see that I've written a lot of words. Good grief! Look at all the little things, strung together in ways only a mother could love. Happy, sad, lonely, joyous, silly, stupid and on occasion, angry, posts about all sorts of things, large and small (usually small). I write something, it flaps in the virtual breeze for a while, then gets buried in a morgue-like place known as Archives.

Few people venture into the Archives, and I don't blame them. Live in the present, not the past! "What's new, T-Bone?" Nobody asks, "What's old?" When I've blogged for a year, I'll post links to some of my nuggets that retain their importance to me, if not freshness of original publish date. I've left pieces of me behind that will melt into the ether when the Internet explodes. But I got them out of my head, and that's what counts.

Here's some more randomness:

Having trouble finding special gifts for those someones special on your list? Look no further than your television for inspiration! An online resource for such products can be found here.

I have sorted out some you may want to consider:

I’m eating someone’s job application as I type this.

The department I’m leaving has three open jobs, two of which have been advertised in our local newspaper the past few weeks. That means the resumés have been rolling in, for better or worse.

Danger: Sarcasm Ahead. Proceed with Caution.

You’re bound to see a lot of blog awards going on, considering we have entered the 12th month of this Year of our Lord, 2003.

There’s one such event here. (Link via Adelle.)

You can apparently nominate yourself, or your favorite blogs. I hope someone nominates me for the Ecosystem Flappy Birds category. I’ve worked hard to trumpet the plight of flappy birds worldwide, and could use the recognition to further my cause. Poor flappy birds!

I’ve got no beef against this blog contest specifically, just the idea of them in general. Here’s some truths about “best of blogging” lists:

With apologies to Motown.

Got an e-mail this afternoon from "Aretha Franklin" trying to get me to buy an extended auto warranty. That's a cheap trick for spammers, who never show us any R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Was surprised I wasn't offered a product to make me feel like a Natural Woman.

I think it's only a matter of time before "Smokey Robinson" wants to sell me a special chemical to clean my septic tank, "Ray Charles" touts the benefits of a larger member and "Gladys Knight" wants me to watch the Paris Hilton sex video (her "Pips" already want me to snoop into other people's e-mail accounts).

How low can spam go?

Dallas Love Field is a cute little airport.

Its small size, especially compared to its obese cousin DFW International Airport, makes it seem friendlier. It is more accessible. There’s one terminal, one baggage claim, one little strip of restaurants. You don’t have to hike a mile to find a screen to tell you that where you want to be is a mile back to where you started.

The people-watching is great because rather than sheer numbers, you can actually watch one person meander around aimlessly. You can see that person go out the wrong door, come back through another, and make the loop again. You can watch him/her strain to see over the horizon, from which some unknown hero will save him/her from the well-worn blue vinyl seats and threadbare brown carpet.

I enjoyed seeing travelers and making up stories for them to pass the time. See the girl with the tight, extremely low-rise jeans and the fuzzy pink crop top that shrinks when she bends over?