March 2006 Archives

When you become an adult, and have to work, and pay bills, and then you become a parent, and you have to work harder to pay bills, the promise of a little time away from your life is precious, wonderful, sultry, tasty, special and increasingly hard to find. KnowwhatImean?

Clan of T-bone will have that time away, albeit too short and maybe not far enough away. The Petite Filet is going to a legal seminar for work in San Antonio on a Thursday. We'll hoof it down there the Wednesday before, stay on her employer's tab for two nights, roll on down to Corpus Christi for a day and night of beach fun, and then scoot on back to San Antone for a final day and night. Then, we face the drive back during which we alternately want to be home and yet don't. I imagine most of you have been on similar sojourns before.

Later in April, the PF and I will sneak away for an overnight of romance for our anniversary to a lovely hotel on a canal not far from here where lovely things are sure to happen.

Then she will leave me and the Cutlet and the dog at home to go to some basket thing in Ohio. Glad I'm not expected to go on that trip.

Here are some wonderful things I like about traveling:

I know it's a little early, but I wanted to talk about Apple Computer's 30th birthday on April 1 so that you'll have plenty of time to order iPod-shaped cupcakes. Or maybe you'd prefer a larger dessert, say something shaped like an iMac, eMac, MacBook Pro, iBook, dual-processor G5 – maybe even the discontinued G4 Cube. Maybe you prefer something retro, like the Apple IIe.

We may have suffered our last freeze of the season Friday night, and now spring has now sprung with a vengeance in north central Texas. There are so many ways one can tell, but here's 10 quickies:

1. We cleaned our kitchen from top to bottom, including washing the curtains and scrubbing the windows. The last time we did that it was to impress the landlords in our old house before getting out. Something must be up for us to be doing that in our own home.

2. We bought a new kitchen table. That is sparking plans for a mini-romodel to include a new ceiling fan and new flooring. At some point I need to also paint the cabinets. I probably should add that we didn't need a new table until Max the Uber Dog decided it looked tasty. That problem is solved, but the damage was done.

3. The houseplants are now on the front porch, yippee!

4. I got industrious on Saturday morning and cut down a tree (it's new name is "Stumpy," changed from "Ugly Tree Along Back Fence.") I've got one other one to remove, but don't fear, intrepid environmentalists. We plan to plant a couple small specimen trees to replace them and their precious oxygen-producing spots in the air chain. Whuh-tevah.

5. I'm getting that strange itch to go look at kayaks again, although I'm supposedly going to have to take lessons first. What's so hard about floating, anyway?

6. Neighborhood cats are getting frisky, and squirrels are exhibiting more static cling.

7. On that note, the PF woke me up Saturday morning after having an explicit dream involving her, me and a trampoline. Um, yes.

8. Max is starting to shed a bit more of his winter coat. He's up for a shave.

9. Sandals are back and so are short skirts. Who am I to complain?

10. The St. Weedistine grass we have in our yard is a lovely shade of green and is starting to grow skyward. It's about to be mowin' season.

Any signs of spring in your neck of the woods?

I'm writing this post after having cleared off my desktop – on the computer, that is – having burned a couple of years of digital photos onto CDs, allowing me to trash trash trash them. I have also jettisoned some of the hundreds of songs in my iTunes library that no longer let me get, uh, jiggy wit it (that should tell you just how old some of those songs were).

Put your nose right up to your computer screen and take a big whiff. Smell that? My iMac smells like a field of daisies bowing in the gentle spring breeze. Soon, I am going to root through the hard drive to see if there are any worthless programs I can delete as well. And my e-mail? Its inbox is going to have the clean, crisp scent of pine.

I also deleted my original Blogger blog, to which I had not posted but once or twice since moving over here a few years ago. Every time a lifeless blog carcass is obiterated, an angel gets its wings. Ding!

All this work and heavy lifting, however, didn't do a thing for my computer desk's top. Or the hall closet. Or the kitchen "junk" drawer. Or that shelf in the bedroom closet that is the Leaning Tower of Unworn Garments. Or the fact our simulated Christmas tree is still in the garage, only half-boxed. I could go on, but it's making me tired. The real Spring Cleaning at Casa del T-bone is yet to begin. But it's got to happen! The clutter is eating up precious memory space in my brain (like, where's my car keys?).

How about you ... got any plans for a seasonal cleanout at your abode?

I’ve written fondly about Old Spice, that very classic of aftershaves, before. It reminds me of my grandfather, who lived most of his life on a tiny island off the Virginia coast except for the time he spent serving in World War II, which took him to New York City, California, the Pacific Theater of the war, Washington, D.C, and then back home. What’s not to love about the clean, crisp scent ... the nautical theme that reminds us of our innate love of the sea ... the fact that it’s so doggone cheap.

It's been raining for three days, which is what it did the last time it rained here. Yes, when it rains, it pours. Makes us think we're in Seattle, except without the cutting-edge music or pretty scenery. We do, of course, have a Starbucks on every corner. There has even been severe flooding along some of our rivers, creeks and lakes. On a lesser scale, there's a bit of water in my garage but it's nothing the wet/dry vac can't handle.

Was reading an article on high-definition television the other day and was shocked that this information had not yet been shouted from rooftops and such. Apparently, on Feb. 17, 2009, our braintrust in Washington is requiring all broadcast television operations to cease transmissions in analog and go all-digital.

This may be great for people who've bought really nice TVs lately, or who already subscribe to a digital service. However, we've got a nearly 10-year-old Trinitron in the living room and the only service we take part in is Rabbit Ears Deluxe™. OK, they're not really deluxe. When we decide which channel we'll be watching, we have to prop the ears up a certain way with knick-knacks on top of the media cabinet.

It's that time of year again in the Crumbling Suburbs, where the smell of freshly cut grass lingers with someone cooking meat using too much lighter fluid to get the fire going. Oblivious neighbors will be trying to water their lawns, yet getting most of it in the street. Many will do their annual shrub-trimming, which often passes for gardening out here. There will be funky tan lines, inflatable backyard pools, yard sales and youth sports. There will doubtless be those who still have Christmas lights stapled to the roof, yet decide it would look swell to hang thousands of Easter eggs from their trees. There is also a good chance that inflatable bunnies will appear in my midst.

My urban brothers and sisters may have a hipster-cool environment complete with high-density, lofty housing units and city conveniences just a stroll away. There might be things to do that don't involve shopping malls, soccer balls or giant SUVs. But, as my previous paragraph describes, there are some really dense people out here in the sprawl, too.

Of course, I try not to let my address define who I am. However, it does determine how I spend a lot of my time ...

If you have a car, you may have noticed that gasoline prices are on the rise (again). Even in Texas, where oil grows on trees, regular has jumped from $2.07 a gallon less than three weeks ago to $2.49 a gallon today. At least that was the case on my way home from work today. It's amazing how fast prices change, like maybe the clerks have a stock ticker or some sort of Magic 8 Ball behind the counter that tells them when to jack 'em up. If only prices fell as quickly.

There was a story on the TV news last night during which some idiot told the reporter that he was going to save money on gas by adding half gasoline and half water to his tank. I'm sure he'd be getting primo mileage while his car was in the shop (practically forever).

On that note, we (er, me) at Texas T-bone have developed a list of gas-saving tips:

My local newspaper is covering South by Southwest, not because it's a hip-happening publication. I suspect it's the buzz factor – many of the staffers are plugged in to that scene – and the fact that it's a mere three hours down I-35 to Austin. Today's recap talked about some of the blogging sessions, with the opening paragraph citing some cyberpundits' declarations that blogging is dead.

This event looks like a total blast. It's coming to Dallas on May 28 and to Austin on June 25. The Petite Filet thinks it looks like fun, but she says she might not be ready for prime time this year. That means that if I want to race, I've got to find another half for Team T-bone. Any takers?

See the video (in Quicktime) of a past race here.

I "trained" on my bike today along the Trinity Trail and saw:
• Large people with small dogs.
• Families "sledding" down grassy hills with pieces of cardboard.
• Homeless people giggling under a tree.
• Picnics aplenty!
• Random things floating in the river.
• Irritable pigeons.
• Some guys collecting signatures for Kinky Friedman's gubanatorial campaign.
• Miniature trains full of hot, sweaty people.
• An old mattress.

So we had Max "fixed" on Thursday, at a really nice low-cost clinic north of Fort Worth in Denton. I dropped him off that night, and picked up him Friday morning before work. He was a real trooper through the ordeal. Oddly enough, he was still really glad to see me afterward. I went to college in Denton and did a drive-through to see how much the campus had changed (good grief! all the parking lots have become buildings!). Then it hit me ... a few of the girls I pursued in college had ... effectively ... neutered me. Moral to the story: Denton, Texas, is Neueter Central. Yikes.

Three is one of my favorite numbers. I was born on the 3rd day of a month divisible by three, in 1973. When I was born, my family numbered three. I'm not into numerology at all, but to me, three is the perfect number. The Petite Filet and I love the fact that Cutlet makes three, and besides the dog (Max makes four), three is a magic number.

This month, the Texas T-bone blog turns three years old. I won't mention that number like it's some kind of accomplishment, because it's not that long. But in blog years, I figure it's actually about 20 years ... old enough to vote, not quite old enough to drink. It's funny to me how I've stumbled across blogs written by authors who tout their "blogging since 1992" or whatever. I keep my snark in check, but I want to ask, "Then why isn't this blog any better?" The answer, I guess, is that the novelty tends to wear off over time and maybe we all become even more memememememe-centric because it's so easy to fall into that pit. Maybe my blog will evolve into being all about you, but don't count on it.

My blog doesn't have to be written better, fancy to look at, more interesting or even better-read, because it makes me happy just the way it is.

If you have a chance, check out one of my fellow bloggers who started about the same time I did. She is making a name for herself in the online and offline publishing worlds, is an entertaining writer to boot and remains one of my favorite "blog friends."

"What are you looking at?"

Site Selection magazine has recognized Texas as the top job-producing state in its most-recent issue. If you open up the page, you'll see that it looks a lot like a blatant political endorsement of our governor, who is seeking re-election this November. There is legislation and policies that help attract businesses to the Lone Star State (but not all attributable to our govnuh), but it's more likely our plentiful supply of sunshine, flat land and immigrants willing to work cheap that put the state up front. That, and our abundance of colleges and universities helps ensure we've got an ed-u-mecated public in general.

The magazine mentions a big banking boon that leads the job boost, but it doesn't mention where most of the jobs are. If you look solely at the suburbs, then the jobs are being created by the opening of new donut shops, nail salons, Super Wal-Marts, pizza joints, barbecue restaurants, insurance offices and dental practices. Our wide open spaces are being overcome by big-box retailers and strip retail centers, and it's making the sky smaller.

We were driving in far north Fort Worth the other day and noticed something odd. Something you don't see too often. Something, strangely, that is now out of place. It was a cow. Just one. Rooting for grass among some scrubby-looking trees. Was the barbed-wire fence there to keep the cow out of the suburban sprawl, or to keep some of the wild west from seeping out?

Texas isn't a bad place to live. Some parts are better than others. We've got a lot of pollution, traffic, urban sprawl, poverty, hunger, snobbiness, large SUVs, copious amounts of credit-card debt, high-density housing, boring landscape ... and more! ... where we live. There are some ways the state is No. 1 that isn't so good, such as having the most drunken-driving fatalities, or too many Texas A&M graduates.

I wish we were happier where we are, and it's a place I'll miss if/when we leave. But that's probably because we're also No. 1 in ambiguity in the country. Guess that explains a lot about our U.S. president, doesn't it?

*Don't Mess With Texas is our 20-year-old anti-litter slogan. Not sure if it works (kind of like the "Got milk?" campaign), but it makes for a great bumper sticker.

I was already having a bad day when it happened. It was the week the Petite Filet was out of town, we had just rescued Max from the animal shelter and the house was a pit of disaster, destruction and dirt. After all, it was also during a three-day stretch of rain during which this area got more than 3 inches of the much-needed – yet unwelcome-at-the-time – wet stuff.

So I'd gotten the vacuum out and was attempting to restore some sort of order. The Cutlet alternately loves vacs, and hates them. This time he was hatin' them, so I turned to try to calm him down (without shutting it off) and ended up sucking up one of his socks. I had just changed the vac's bag so didn't feel like cutting it open. Turns out the sock didn't end up in the bag, but rather was jammed up in the motor. I found this out when the vacuum no longer worked, and the motor made a high-pitched plea for me to shut it off.