Tuesday, May 30, 2006
My Blog
Okay, maybe my post today sounded a little petty. After all, my brother showed me a good time in Austin and was a great host. Then I go and complain about his anti-American, liberal ideas, his abnormal friends, and his parenting skills. I chose to blog my thoughts rather than rag on my brother. Knowing that Craig would not bother to read my blog, I felt pretty safe in saying whatever I wanted. And I am still safe. Craig will not read my blog, and he probably does not care what I think. For all our differences, I love my brother dearly. He is a good man who has tried hard to raise his kids pretty much alone. I just wanted to rant a little and say what I really thought. My other siblings may think me a bit harsh, but it was just some thoughts. Maybe I will blog on them next :)
Austin Reflections
This last week Mom and I went to Austin to my niece, Nina’s, graduation. She is a great kid. Mom and I had a wonderful time, but there were a few little things that "rung my bell".
If you are ever in Austin, look my brother up. He is a great host taking us around the town and showing us the sights. He took us to a wonderful breakfast place where I had "love migas" with black beans – yum! Later that evening he took us to an old motel called San Jose, which had a courtyard where they served beer, wine, and snacks. Both of these places were popular Austin hangouts with lots of odd people to watch. Craig took us to a place called Donn’s Depot, which is an older bar in Austin with some good music and atmosphere. My brother’s house is down near Barton Springs Rd. and South Congress (SoCo) which was interesting in itself. I love the funky old Austin homes up and down the hills, and everything was so green. We went to Nina’s school where she did a presentation and then did what was called a "star walk" (walking through the school while students came out of the classroom and cheered her on – quite fun). We went to her graduation where she got Outstanding Hispanic Student. Then, of course, we attended the graduation party that her divorced parents threw for her in a friend’s backyard.
When we arrived at Craig’s house, I had brought him a couple of gifts. I gave him a painting, which he seemed to like okay, and I also gave him a T-shirt. The T-shirt was blue with an old pick-up on the front of it. Since we both learned to drive in our dad’s old 55 GMC pick-up, a truck that we both drove as teen-agers and meant a lot to us, I thought he would love the shirt. Instead, he was horrified because it had "America" written on it also. What’s up with that? Just because he is a liberal, does that mean he is anti-America?
Then he bad-mouthed Barbara Bush as being a rich lady who had no idea how to help the poor or what the poor Katrina evacuees needed. He thinks because Barbara is rich, that she has no understanding. Craig pays an enormous amount of rent on a small funky house in a highly popular Austin neighborhood. The house down the street recently sold for $300,000. It is the lifestyle he has chosen (certainly different from mine). Why can’t Barbara choose her own lifestyle? Who is the snob here? He seems to look down on anyone who lives differently or thinks differently from himself. I told him that I liked Barbara and I like her when she says what she thinks even when it is politically incorrect. I try to avoid any political discussions with Craig, but when one of his lady friends asked him to go see the "new Al Gore Movie", I nearly gagged. Hey, if that is their idea of a hot date…
Still, I did not say much to Craig, but I had a few thoughts. The people in Austin work at being so different that they are actually all the same. Even the people at Nina’s self-paced school seem to push "individualism" yet they seem to all be teaching liberal thoughts and views. The students all seemed much the same in their rebelling. There was no real diversity. The school was proud that they had "prepared their students for the world". They may have prepared them for life in Austin, but not the world. What’s up with the "Outstanding Hispanic Student" award? Did the school not have any real Hispanic students or just none that were outstanding? Why did they choose Nina who certainly did not overcome any adversity due to being Hispanic - her last name is Barker. She doesn’t even speak Spanish. Craig is sending her to Mexico this week to a language school to learn Spanish when he and his Hispanic ex-wife could not take the time to teach Nina the language themselves. I would tell you my thoughts on sending your precious daughter to Mexico with another teenager who loves to party, but I think you may know my thoughts. And you probably know my thoughts about parents who cannot take the time to teach or pass down an inheritance to their own children.
Okay, I am beginning to rant. I have watched my brother try to raise his two children after being abandoned by his wife, their mother, because she wanted to run and play. He has had to work to make her a part of their lives, and there she was taking a large part of the credit as if she had been a good mother. In lots of ways, Craig has done a good job, but I am not so sure what his goal was. He has had the love and support of a good family and yet he has chosen to keep his children from us and our conservative ways. By trying to make his children into "free thinking individuals" he has turned them into odd-Austinites who all think alike. We will see what the future holds. It would be nice to be more apart of his life and the lives of my niece and nephew, but instead I am an observer. Let’s just say that Austin is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. It is his choice.
If you are ever in Austin, look my brother up. He is a great host taking us around the town and showing us the sights. He took us to a wonderful breakfast place where I had "love migas" with black beans – yum! Later that evening he took us to an old motel called San Jose, which had a courtyard where they served beer, wine, and snacks. Both of these places were popular Austin hangouts with lots of odd people to watch. Craig took us to a place called Donn’s Depot, which is an older bar in Austin with some good music and atmosphere. My brother’s house is down near Barton Springs Rd. and South Congress (SoCo) which was interesting in itself. I love the funky old Austin homes up and down the hills, and everything was so green. We went to Nina’s school where she did a presentation and then did what was called a "star walk" (walking through the school while students came out of the classroom and cheered her on – quite fun). We went to her graduation where she got Outstanding Hispanic Student. Then, of course, we attended the graduation party that her divorced parents threw for her in a friend’s backyard.
When we arrived at Craig’s house, I had brought him a couple of gifts. I gave him a painting, which he seemed to like okay, and I also gave him a T-shirt. The T-shirt was blue with an old pick-up on the front of it. Since we both learned to drive in our dad’s old 55 GMC pick-up, a truck that we both drove as teen-agers and meant a lot to us, I thought he would love the shirt. Instead, he was horrified because it had "America" written on it also. What’s up with that? Just because he is a liberal, does that mean he is anti-America?
Then he bad-mouthed Barbara Bush as being a rich lady who had no idea how to help the poor or what the poor Katrina evacuees needed. He thinks because Barbara is rich, that she has no understanding. Craig pays an enormous amount of rent on a small funky house in a highly popular Austin neighborhood. The house down the street recently sold for $300,000. It is the lifestyle he has chosen (certainly different from mine). Why can’t Barbara choose her own lifestyle? Who is the snob here? He seems to look down on anyone who lives differently or thinks differently from himself. I told him that I liked Barbara and I like her when she says what she thinks even when it is politically incorrect. I try to avoid any political discussions with Craig, but when one of his lady friends asked him to go see the "new Al Gore Movie", I nearly gagged. Hey, if that is their idea of a hot date…
Still, I did not say much to Craig, but I had a few thoughts. The people in Austin work at being so different that they are actually all the same. Even the people at Nina’s self-paced school seem to push "individualism" yet they seem to all be teaching liberal thoughts and views. The students all seemed much the same in their rebelling. There was no real diversity. The school was proud that they had "prepared their students for the world". They may have prepared them for life in Austin, but not the world. What’s up with the "Outstanding Hispanic Student" award? Did the school not have any real Hispanic students or just none that were outstanding? Why did they choose Nina who certainly did not overcome any adversity due to being Hispanic - her last name is Barker. She doesn’t even speak Spanish. Craig is sending her to Mexico this week to a language school to learn Spanish when he and his Hispanic ex-wife could not take the time to teach Nina the language themselves. I would tell you my thoughts on sending your precious daughter to Mexico with another teenager who loves to party, but I think you may know my thoughts. And you probably know my thoughts about parents who cannot take the time to teach or pass down an inheritance to their own children.
Okay, I am beginning to rant. I have watched my brother try to raise his two children after being abandoned by his wife, their mother, because she wanted to run and play. He has had to work to make her a part of their lives, and there she was taking a large part of the credit as if she had been a good mother. In lots of ways, Craig has done a good job, but I am not so sure what his goal was. He has had the love and support of a good family and yet he has chosen to keep his children from us and our conservative ways. By trying to make his children into "free thinking individuals" he has turned them into odd-Austinites who all think alike. We will see what the future holds. It would be nice to be more apart of his life and the lives of my niece and nephew, but instead I am an observer. Let’s just say that Austin is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. It is his choice.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Memorial Day
Last night on local TV, I watched "We Were Soldiers" for the second time. The first time I saw this movie was at the theater when the movie first came out about four years ago. Although I later bought the dvd, I have never been able to watch it again. Toby had never seen the movie. Both of us had read the book over ten years ago when it was first published. I remember that time well. For the week it took me to read the book, I was a basketcase. I cried all week. I fretted and worried about the lost platoon. I dreamed about the soldiers. I was so upset, Toby finally told me to stop reading the book. I told him that I could not stop reading it, but that he would have to read it too. He did, and he was upset for the next week.
Last night I started crying early on in the movie because now, I have not only read the book, I have met many of the people mentioned in it. Jesse and I attended the Ia Drang veteran’s reunion in Washington DC several years ago. It was such an amazing experience, that we took Toby with us the next year. At the beginning of the movie, Mel Giblson’s character, Hal Moore, told his wife that whenever he prayed, he thanked God for her, I started crying. I have met Hal Moore with his wife, Julie. I have seen the love between them, and I knew that when Julie died of cancer a few years ago, it was very hard on General Moore. I have stood and talked with Bruce Crandall and listened to his jokes. He is like a stand-up comedian. I have had my picture taken with "Too Tall To Fly" Ed Freeman and his Medal of Honor. I met Mr. Rangel who signed my book on the page where he is described bayoneting a North Vietnamese soldier. Later Mr. Rangel told me how he was wounded and put into a helicopter flown by Bruce Crandall. He said that as he was put in the helicopter he could see a downed helicopter and feared the same would happen to him, but as they lifted off he watched the tree line, the mountains, and finally clear blue sky. He said that Bruce Crandall turned and gave him a "thumbs up" sign – something that he would never forget. At the reunion banquet, I sat at the same table and had dinner with Barbara and Camille Geoghean, the wife and daughter of Jack Geoghean who wore his daughter’s baby bracelet into battle and was killed. Camille is a grown woman now and very beautiful. At the same table, I ate with my cousin, Sheri. She was born during the days of the battle while her father, my Uncle Bob, was manning the big artillery guns a few miles from Landing Zone X-ray. Sheri’s father returned to her; Camille’s father did not.
I met other men such as Tony Nadal and Sgt. Gilreath. I found a picture of Mr. Nadal online and did a painting from the picture. I was able to present it to him at the reunion. I went to dinner with Chip Parker who flew helicpoters into the battle. I met many more men and some of their wives and listened to their stories. I have stood at the Vietnam Memorial Wall at dawn as Hal Moore and Joe Galloway read the names of the fallen soldiers. I watched as men cried and hugged each other. I saw my uncle find the name of one of his men who was killed in the first thirty minutes of the battle. He ran his fingers over the name and bowed his head in prayer. As I have said before, attending the Ia Drang reunion was a life changing experience. It made me understand the sacrifice of the soldiers and their wives and families. This sacrifice is not over when the war is over. It is forever. I am awed and humbled by these soldiers and all soldiers who have served their country past and present. I bow my head and pray for them today, and I am thankful for them.
Pictured above is Captain Jeff Donnithorne who flew some of the first bombing missions in Baghdad in the Iraq War, Ret. Lt. Col. Robert L. Barker (Uncle Bobby), "Too Tall to Fly" Ed Freeman, and Captain Jim Lively who recently returned from Fallujah (my cousin).
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Flying
Jesse and Lindsay were hoping to fly in the Island Air, but it was not to be. They did get to fly in the Cessna and had a great time. Airport Alan took them up, flew them over their homes, let them take a turn at the wheel, and was as silly as they were. They took lots of pictures including one of Lindsay's mother waving from her front yard.I am leaving this afternoon with Mom to go to Austin for my neices' graduation. It should be a goodtime. I probably will not be back until Friday afternoon. See you then.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Friendly Game of Volleyball
We did not make it to the Altus Air Force Base air show, but we did have a rather busy weekend. Toby had a deadline to meet and had to work almost the entire weekend - while the mice did play. Saturday morning we met with my son and his little family (more on that later) and his in-laws who are also our good friends. It was Ernie's (Sara's dad) birthday and he wanted to meet for breakfast - good choice. We had breakfast at Golden Corral while the grandchild kept us entertained.
After breakfast everyone went their separate ways. Jesse and I did a few things around the house before heading to the lake with the kayaks. We paddled out across the lake and back. Although the weather was pretty warm, we did well and had a nice time. Next, we headed over to the Johnson’s to play volleyball. Usually the moms sit around in our lawn chairs and hoot and holler for the young people while chatting and sipping soft drinks. This time, the young folks needed an extra player to make the teams even. Yeha, I got to play. My team was a pretty salty group of kids which included a new girl whom none of us knew (she had been invited by one of the Johnsons). It turns out she was a really good volleyball player and really gung-ho to the point of being a little intimidating. She was bossy and pushy and yes, irritating. She treated us like we were "less than okay" volleyball players. Now, I am a pretty competitive person, but through the years I have worked to tone that part of me down. You could say that I have mellowed somewhat, but the truth is that I just have learned to enjoy life and games for what they are. This was not an Olympic beach tournament – it was good friends having a good time. When the new girl yelled at me to get out of her way so she could spike the ball when the ball was clearly mine, I could feel that old-self rising up in me – that stubborn streak, that "like hell I’ll move!" attitude. And so, I did not get out of the way, but stood my ground. Fortunately, we lost by two points and had to sit out for a few games and chill. There was a part of me that was not sure if I wanted to play anymore with this girl, but there was another part of me that refused to back down from a fight. This was more of a fight with myself – to control my self and be nice to her. As the evening went on and we continued to play our little tournament, the girl began to lighten up. She remarked on how honest we all were and things got better. I wondered if she could see what an amazing group of young people she was with. They accepted her and treated her nicely. They continued to play like they always do – enjoying each other – with our homemade rules and lack of refs. There was competition, but it was good-hearted competition. It turned out to be an enjoyable afternoon.
Oh, I should mention that at one point we divided up into teams of twos. Once again I was needed to make the teams even. There was one young man who did not have a partner, so he was stuck with me. We played a fast-pace game of volleyball where it was two on two. As a team lost a play, they ran off the court and a new twosome ran onto the court. The challenge was to see how long a twosome could stay on the court. It turns out that my partner was amazing. We won the most points – held the record. Yeah, the old lady did pretty well. It was quite satisfying. Jesse said she was glad I did not embarrass her (me too).
On Sunday Bo, Sara, and Lizzie met up with us again before heading back to The City. Sara said she was going to go give her father his birthday present, but she had to tell him that he would not actually get the present until Toby's birthday in January. Do you know what that means?
After breakfast everyone went their separate ways. Jesse and I did a few things around the house before heading to the lake with the kayaks. We paddled out across the lake and back. Although the weather was pretty warm, we did well and had a nice time. Next, we headed over to the Johnson’s to play volleyball. Usually the moms sit around in our lawn chairs and hoot and holler for the young people while chatting and sipping soft drinks. This time, the young folks needed an extra player to make the teams even. Yeha, I got to play. My team was a pretty salty group of kids which included a new girl whom none of us knew (she had been invited by one of the Johnsons). It turns out she was a really good volleyball player and really gung-ho to the point of being a little intimidating. She was bossy and pushy and yes, irritating. She treated us like we were "less than okay" volleyball players. Now, I am a pretty competitive person, but through the years I have worked to tone that part of me down. You could say that I have mellowed somewhat, but the truth is that I just have learned to enjoy life and games for what they are. This was not an Olympic beach tournament – it was good friends having a good time. When the new girl yelled at me to get out of her way so she could spike the ball when the ball was clearly mine, I could feel that old-self rising up in me – that stubborn streak, that "like hell I’ll move!" attitude. And so, I did not get out of the way, but stood my ground. Fortunately, we lost by two points and had to sit out for a few games and chill. There was a part of me that was not sure if I wanted to play anymore with this girl, but there was another part of me that refused to back down from a fight. This was more of a fight with myself – to control my self and be nice to her. As the evening went on and we continued to play our little tournament, the girl began to lighten up. She remarked on how honest we all were and things got better. I wondered if she could see what an amazing group of young people she was with. They accepted her and treated her nicely. They continued to play like they always do – enjoying each other – with our homemade rules and lack of refs. There was competition, but it was good-hearted competition. It turned out to be an enjoyable afternoon.
Oh, I should mention that at one point we divided up into teams of twos. Once again I was needed to make the teams even. There was one young man who did not have a partner, so he was stuck with me. We played a fast-pace game of volleyball where it was two on two. As a team lost a play, they ran off the court and a new twosome ran onto the court. The challenge was to see how long a twosome could stay on the court. It turns out that my partner was amazing. We won the most points – held the record. Yeah, the old lady did pretty well. It was quite satisfying. Jesse said she was glad I did not embarrass her (me too).
On Sunday Bo, Sara, and Lizzie met up with us again before heading back to The City. Sara said she was going to go give her father his birthday present, but she had to tell him that he would not actually get the present until Toby's birthday in January. Do you know what that means?
Friday, May 19, 2006
After all of the big Halliburton doings, things have been pretty dull. It is back to the usual. One funny thing did happen to me the other evening. I was headed into town to meet Toby, and I was running late. Highway 7 that runs into Duncan is being repaved - so I have been taking the old highway which is narrow and winding and a longer way to town. Because I was in a hurry and I assumed the road construction was over for the day, I took the new road. It was a mistake. Almost as soon as I pulled on to the highway, I was stuck waiting for the "pilot car follow me". I gnashed my teeth at my stupidity, but settled down for the wait. When you are in a hurray, every minute seems like forever. Eventually the pilot car came along and pulled off the road to let all of the oncoming traffic go by before pulling out in front of the line of cars waiting. The pilot car lead us about a mile and then just stopped. I wondered why - then I saw the lady driver leap out of her pilot car and run into the port-a-potty. The long line of cars waited. A few minutes later, she came leaping out of the potty and back into her pilot car and drove on. That was a first. I don't believe I have ever seen the pilot car stop at the port-a-potty and keep everyone waiting. I guess if you have to go, you have to go.
I also have a bit of a complaint to file. Toby and Jesse have had colds, plus it is allergy season. I stopped at the Wal-Mart pharmacy to purchase some cold/allergy medicine since our supply was depleted. I like Sudafed by day and Drixoral by night. Unfortunately, these are both over the counter drugs that you now have to show ID and sign away your life and first born child in order to purchase. I try to be patient, but it irritates the heck out of me. This time the pharmacist himself waited on me instead of the Wal-Mart clerk. He started off by saying he didn't think he could sell me that much pseudoephedrine. Then he asked me if I had bought any in the last month. He was hem-hawing around. He wouldn't look me in the eyes. He began typing away on his computer as if it had all of the answers. Finally, he said I cannot sell you both; there are laws you know. I told him that I thought he was suppose to take my name, ID, signature, and money letting the police deal with me if they thought I was a crimnal. He said there were new Federal laws governing how many mgs they could sell at a time. What's that suppose to mean - how much they could sell to one person? Per family? Per month? Per week? Per visit to Wal-Mart? I really wanted to ask him for a copy of the law since he was not very clear. I really wanted to scream, but I settled for a sarcastic remark about laws that keep law abiding citizens under control, but do little for the unlawful person. Then the guy got really cold toward me saying it was no different from any other controlled substance. Yeah right! I use to be able to buy it over the counter with no one worrying that I would overdose or misuse the drug. Now, due to meth makers, I am treated like some sort of crimnal. It really irks me. I bought my drugs and went home without any further arguement. Let him think what he wants.
Jesse is going to dinner and movies with her group of friends. I was actually invited, but once they chose the late movies, I declined. It is not just because I do not want to stay out late - I can do that. It is not because I don't want to be with the younger crowd - I love that. It is because I stopped at the used book store today and bought several books. I just want to sit and relax and inhale a book tonight and maybe drink some fancy coffee.
I also have a bit of a complaint to file. Toby and Jesse have had colds, plus it is allergy season. I stopped at the Wal-Mart pharmacy to purchase some cold/allergy medicine since our supply was depleted. I like Sudafed by day and Drixoral by night. Unfortunately, these are both over the counter drugs that you now have to show ID and sign away your life and first born child in order to purchase. I try to be patient, but it irritates the heck out of me. This time the pharmacist himself waited on me instead of the Wal-Mart clerk. He started off by saying he didn't think he could sell me that much pseudoephedrine. Then he asked me if I had bought any in the last month. He was hem-hawing around. He wouldn't look me in the eyes. He began typing away on his computer as if it had all of the answers. Finally, he said I cannot sell you both; there are laws you know. I told him that I thought he was suppose to take my name, ID, signature, and money letting the police deal with me if they thought I was a crimnal. He said there were new Federal laws governing how many mgs they could sell at a time. What's that suppose to mean - how much they could sell to one person? Per family? Per month? Per week? Per visit to Wal-Mart? I really wanted to ask him for a copy of the law since he was not very clear. I really wanted to scream, but I settled for a sarcastic remark about laws that keep law abiding citizens under control, but do little for the unlawful person. Then the guy got really cold toward me saying it was no different from any other controlled substance. Yeah right! I use to be able to buy it over the counter with no one worrying that I would overdose or misuse the drug. Now, due to meth makers, I am treated like some sort of crimnal. It really irks me. I bought my drugs and went home without any further arguement. Let him think what he wants.
Jesse is going to dinner and movies with her group of friends. I was actually invited, but once they chose the late movies, I declined. It is not just because I do not want to stay out late - I can do that. It is not because I don't want to be with the younger crowd - I love that. It is because I stopped at the used book store today and bought several books. I just want to sit and relax and inhale a book tonight and maybe drink some fancy coffee.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Protestors
The local news ran a story on the Halliburton protestors last evening. Maybe 100 people showed up to protest at the Halliburton stockholder’s meeting. The KSWO news showed people standing behind a barrier with all sorts of signs. One lady was saying, " Halliburton serves dirty water to our soldiers!" One man was saying, "Our soldiers should not have to protect Halliburton employees!" Some voiced their irritation that the meeting had been held in Duncan rather than Houston (okay, Duncan is not nearly as exciting as the big city). One man, who seemed to be the ringleader, had written out some sort of "indictment" and wanted to "serve" it to the president of Halliburton. While the cameras were rolling, the ringleader and several protestors decided to cross the barrier and were arrested. – Big whoopie! Bail was set at $89.00 and they were released.
My husband, who attended a small part of the meeting, said that the protestors were obnoxious. He said they were rude and crude yelling nasty things. They were people full of anger and hate. Where do these protestors come up with these things? How do they choose where they will focus their anger? Why do they choose to believe crazy things? Don’t they have anything better to do with their lives? It is no wonder there were black helicopters circling over head. These people could be dangerous – certainly no peace found in them.
Speaking of "no peace", I got into a bit of a "throw down" over at another blog site. For those of you who have never taught in the public schools, a "throw down" is a term my students used when they got in a fight. It refers to throwing down what ever you are holding (books and stuff) and just going at it. Although I probably will not do it again (famous last words), I merely stated my opinion to someone who was questioning our presence in Iraq. Similar to the protestors, there is no talking to such people. They have a whole different take on life and history. As I argued with these people, I wondered, "Why do they choose to believe such odd things? Why do they choose to believe the worst in everything and everyone?" Next time, I think I will just read and support those who are fighting the good fight, but ignore those who are just stupid. (that last part was for you, Anny)
My husband, who attended a small part of the meeting, said that the protestors were obnoxious. He said they were rude and crude yelling nasty things. They were people full of anger and hate. Where do these protestors come up with these things? How do they choose where they will focus their anger? Why do they choose to believe crazy things? Don’t they have anything better to do with their lives? It is no wonder there were black helicopters circling over head. These people could be dangerous – certainly no peace found in them.
Speaking of "no peace", I got into a bit of a "throw down" over at another blog site. For those of you who have never taught in the public schools, a "throw down" is a term my students used when they got in a fight. It refers to throwing down what ever you are holding (books and stuff) and just going at it. Although I probably will not do it again (famous last words), I merely stated my opinion to someone who was questioning our presence in Iraq. Similar to the protestors, there is no talking to such people. They have a whole different take on life and history. As I argued with these people, I wondered, "Why do they choose to believe such odd things? Why do they choose to believe the worst in everything and everyone?" Next time, I think I will just read and support those who are fighting the good fight, but ignore those who are just stupid. (that last part was for you, Anny)
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Big Barbeque
I was a little disappointed in the Halliburton picnic. I did not see any protestors. I did not see any terrorists. I did not see any Vice-Presidents. Most of the people were Duncanites, and I can see them at Wal-Mart any day of the week. Actually, there were a few interesting things. There were oodles of people at the barbeque whom I never see. I didn’t realize that so many people live in Duncan. Halliburton set up about six huge tents - football field length – to seat and feed all of the people. The emcee asked for all H. employees to stand. Of course everyone in the place stood up. Then he asked who had worked there less than ten years, 20 years, 30 years, etc. I was amazed how many people were standing after the 30-year mark. Even at 40 years there were still many standing. Then the emcee gave out an award to someone who had been there 50 years. How many Fortune 500 companies have that? For all of the people there, it still felt like a small hometown company. People who did not know each other visited and ate together. Maybe it is because they live in the same small town and yet have good livings and good retirement. Pretty amazing!
Something else that I thought was interesting. There are cops and security all over Duncan being very serious and professional. There were helicopters circling over head. White police suburbans lined the parking lot. Police cars filled the fair grounds parking lot where I am sure they headquartered. I thought the helicopters were particularly cool, but what were they really doing up there? What were they watching for, I wondered.
Later as I was driving home, I heard my cell phone ringing, but my purse was in the trunk of the car. I had not wanted to wag it around at the picnic and try to balance all of the food I was planning on eating. I had put my purse in the trunk for safekeeping (with all of that security I could have left it on the hood of the car). Anyway, I pulled over on the side of the highway, jumped out of the car, popped the trunk, and rummaged around in the trunk pulling out my cell phone. Then I had this crazy thought: This is what those helicopters are watching for – crazy women stopping on the highway. They might think I was getting my assault rifle out of the trunk or using my cell phone to detonate a bomb! I hustled back into the car and drove off. As I dialed a number and put my cell phone to my ear, I realized that I had forgotten my safety belt. Gosh! What was I thinking? With ten-gazillion cops in one small town, this could get me pulled over for sure. But nothing happened. I just have an overactive imagination.
Today is the stockholder's meeting. There are some groups who have permits to protest. It all seems silly to me. I guess there are some crazy folk out there whose perception of things is off. I guess they just use such events to get attention. Beware the helicopters are watching. Beware the Jabberwock.
I want to add that the trip to OK City to the art museum was the highlight of the day. My young ladies and one young man were beautiful and well behaved. They loved being at the art musuem. They all acted like it was a great treat. Eating at the fancy Museum Cafe was perfect. The best exhibit was called the Tempests which was ships and storms - very dramatic. Hmm, maybe I am a pretty simple girl - easily entertained. Life here in OK is good.
Something else that I thought was interesting. There are cops and security all over Duncan being very serious and professional. There were helicopters circling over head. White police suburbans lined the parking lot. Police cars filled the fair grounds parking lot where I am sure they headquartered. I thought the helicopters were particularly cool, but what were they really doing up there? What were they watching for, I wondered.
Later as I was driving home, I heard my cell phone ringing, but my purse was in the trunk of the car. I had not wanted to wag it around at the picnic and try to balance all of the food I was planning on eating. I had put my purse in the trunk for safekeeping (with all of that security I could have left it on the hood of the car). Anyway, I pulled over on the side of the highway, jumped out of the car, popped the trunk, and rummaged around in the trunk pulling out my cell phone. Then I had this crazy thought: This is what those helicopters are watching for – crazy women stopping on the highway. They might think I was getting my assault rifle out of the trunk or using my cell phone to detonate a bomb! I hustled back into the car and drove off. As I dialed a number and put my cell phone to my ear, I realized that I had forgotten my safety belt. Gosh! What was I thinking? With ten-gazillion cops in one small town, this could get me pulled over for sure. But nothing happened. I just have an overactive imagination.
Today is the stockholder's meeting. There are some groups who have permits to protest. It all seems silly to me. I guess there are some crazy folk out there whose perception of things is off. I guess they just use such events to get attention. Beware the helicopters are watching. Beware the Jabberwock.
I want to add that the trip to OK City to the art museum was the highlight of the day. My young ladies and one young man were beautiful and well behaved. They loved being at the art musuem. They all acted like it was a great treat. Eating at the fancy Museum Cafe was perfect. The best exhibit was called the Tempests which was ships and storms - very dramatic. Hmm, maybe I am a pretty simple girl - easily entertained. Life here in OK is good.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Tours of Fun
This morning I am taking my young art students to the OK City art museum. I have a several moms who have asked to go and some who will drive their big vehicles that can carry lots of folks. In all, it will be a group of about sixteen. Hopefully, we can have lunch in the Museum Café, which is very nice. If that does not work out, we will head over to Bricktown and enjoy the riverwalk. Bricktown is really a great place if you have not been to OK City lately. Maybe someday someone will take me to a Red Hawks baseball game (hint).
Saturday, we may head over to Altus, OK for the big air show at the base. The Thunderbirds are suppose to be there along with some other flying entertainment. Also, there will be tours through the base and its planes.
This evening, I am suppose to attend the Halliburton Barbeque with my husband. He says I have to dress up (for a barbeque?) which is being held at a big tent in the park. I told him I would be sure and wear a white shirt so that the bbq sauce that I will surely spill down the front of me will show up. That is just my way of protesting. It just seems silly to get all dressed up and slather yourself with bug spray at the same time. Actually, I am really looking forward to hob-nobbing with the big dogs. Who says Oklahoma is a dull place?
Saturday, we may head over to Altus, OK for the big air show at the base. The Thunderbirds are suppose to be there along with some other flying entertainment. Also, there will be tours through the base and its planes.
This evening, I am suppose to attend the Halliburton Barbeque with my husband. He says I have to dress up (for a barbeque?) which is being held at a big tent in the park. I told him I would be sure and wear a white shirt so that the bbq sauce that I will surely spill down the front of me will show up. That is just my way of protesting. It just seems silly to get all dressed up and slather yourself with bug spray at the same time. Actually, I am really looking forward to hob-nobbing with the big dogs. Who says Oklahoma is a dull place?
Monday, May 15, 2006
Weekend
My post yesterday was done in a hurry. I had dropped by at Buck’s and had seen his Mother’s Day post – a painting by Mary Cassatt, which I loved. It just reminded me of Major K’s post last year at this time. Then, my husband asked if I wanted to go to Wal Mart with him to get my Mother’s Day present. I thought that if I wanted a present, I had better go. Jesse went with us, of course. Wal-Mart on a Sunday is not such a bad thing. My M-Day present turned out to be a bb gun. Since Jesse had told me that she had been wanting to buy me one for my birthday (she bought me a purse instead), this was no big surprise. Every girl needs a bb gun. Last night we played with it and got really silly. We all took turns shooting it and then trying some trick like "over the shoulder" shooting or "under the leg". Then we got sillier deciding on where to hang it. Toby and Jesse would hold it up over the door way or on the wall in the living room and ask, "How does this look?" as if it were some special gun. Too bad I don’t have a mantel.
I should probably tell you that the bb gun was not the only gift I got. On Friday night, I had a double date with Toby and another couple. We went to the late viewing of Mission Impossible III. It was an enjoyable movie, but staying up until midnight was hard on this rancher wife. I had to get up early and head over to WF to meet with the WFHS class reunion committee. The committee got lots done, but it took all day. I did not get to go kayaking with my family. They went out to the lake and stayed until dark. That’s okay – I was very productive while they were gone.
For those of you who do not know, Duncan, OK, is home of Halliburton. This week Duncan is hosting the big stockholder’s meeting, which is normally held in Houston. The big dogs are coming to town. The town is expecting a wave of protesters. Everyone is gearing up. I will not go to the meeting, but I will get to go to the big barbeque (Toby has to wear his "girl britches" - what kind of barbeque is that?). The ladies at my aerobics class had a discussion on why there would be protesters. None of us had a good answer. Someone thought they were protesting oil prices – but why would they do that when Halliburton is a service company not an oil company and has nothing to do with oil prices. Someone thought it was because of the V-president – but why? – he is no longer part of Halliburton. Halliburton has been gone over with a fine-tooth comb and come out clean. Maybe they protest Halliburton because it owns the subsidiary, KBR who help our military – but why? I just figure that if there are people crazy enough to protest homosexuality in America by disturbing military funerals, there are just bunches of crazy people who have nothing better to do in life. As my friend Anny always said, "Why that is just stupid!" It should make for an interesting week.
I should probably tell you that the bb gun was not the only gift I got. On Friday night, I had a double date with Toby and another couple. We went to the late viewing of Mission Impossible III. It was an enjoyable movie, but staying up until midnight was hard on this rancher wife. I had to get up early and head over to WF to meet with the WFHS class reunion committee. The committee got lots done, but it took all day. I did not get to go kayaking with my family. They went out to the lake and stayed until dark. That’s okay – I was very productive while they were gone.
For those of you who do not know, Duncan, OK, is home of Halliburton. This week Duncan is hosting the big stockholder’s meeting, which is normally held in Houston. The big dogs are coming to town. The town is expecting a wave of protesters. Everyone is gearing up. I will not go to the meeting, but I will get to go to the big barbeque (Toby has to wear his "girl britches" - what kind of barbeque is that?). The ladies at my aerobics class had a discussion on why there would be protesters. None of us had a good answer. Someone thought they were protesting oil prices – but why would they do that when Halliburton is a service company not an oil company and has nothing to do with oil prices. Someone thought it was because of the V-president – but why? – he is no longer part of Halliburton. Halliburton has been gone over with a fine-tooth comb and come out clean. Maybe they protest Halliburton because it owns the subsidiary, KBR who help our military – but why? I just figure that if there are people crazy enough to protest homosexuality in America by disturbing military funerals, there are just bunches of crazy people who have nothing better to do in life. As my friend Anny always said, "Why that is just stupid!" It should make for an interesting week.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Happy Mothers Day
Happy Mothers Day. My mom went off to FTW to a soccer tournament wit my sister and her family. We all had our usual contest of trying to call her first this morning. I called second.
It was this time last year that Major K posted a great picture of himself with some sweet words on Mothers Day. My comment on his blog was, "Is there any more like you at home; I happen to have this daughter...." He answered me on his next blog with, "As a matter of fact..." and he posted a picture of Lt. C. Since he was so kind as to answer, I felt I would send a picture of my daughter which I emailed to him personally. Lt. C wrote back and said he would like to write to Jes. At first Jes was worried (Mom, what are you thinking?). Long story short - Lt. C and Jes wrote for the rest of his deployment. Lt. C was a man of few words, but he answered each email. Although he promised to write when he returned and made mention of hoping to meet her someday, he has been home since Feb. and has not written, which is fine. Jesse is good with that because she just likes the communicating and supporting our military (it is one thing to write to a soldier; it is another thing to have them on her doorstep). Soldiers Angels has been handy giving us soldiers to write to and support. I am thankful to our soldiers and all that they do and sacrifice. I am thankful to the moms out there who raised such fine young people.
It was this time last year that Major K posted a great picture of himself with some sweet words on Mothers Day. My comment on his blog was, "Is there any more like you at home; I happen to have this daughter...." He answered me on his next blog with, "As a matter of fact..." and he posted a picture of Lt. C. Since he was so kind as to answer, I felt I would send a picture of my daughter which I emailed to him personally. Lt. C wrote back and said he would like to write to Jes. At first Jes was worried (Mom, what are you thinking?). Long story short - Lt. C and Jes wrote for the rest of his deployment. Lt. C was a man of few words, but he answered each email. Although he promised to write when he returned and made mention of hoping to meet her someday, he has been home since Feb. and has not written, which is fine. Jesse is good with that because she just likes the communicating and supporting our military (it is one thing to write to a soldier; it is another thing to have them on her doorstep). Soldiers Angels has been handy giving us soldiers to write to and support. I am thankful to our soldiers and all that they do and sacrifice. I am thankful to the moms out there who raised such fine young people.
Friday, May 12, 2006
A Real Cowgirl
My new friends, A&N, reminded me of some horse stories that I thought I would share. If you have ever had horses, you probably have stories.
I wasn’t always a "real cowgirl", but I married a man who was a farmer raised on farms in West TX and Eastern NM whose father raised race horses. My horse experience was much like any kid who spent his summers in the mountains and loved horses. We lived behind the Gallager & Gwynn riding stable in RR. My brother and I spent lots of money and time at the stable. My best friend had four horses that they kept at their cabin in the Upper Valley. We rode quite a bit and chased Johnny Mutz’s cattle all over the valley – and got in lots of trouble. When at home in TX, my Uncle Joe would let me ride his horses. He said I was a "natural rider" (thanks Uncle Joe; I love you for that). All of those horses were the "good as gold" sort – the kind you could just get on and ride off without any fear. My knowledge of horses was "kick to go - pull to whoa". My real horse training would come later.
Then came the day when my husband said, "Let’s buy a horse." Sounded great to me. Our first horse was great – great with the kids and a real babysitter, yet with lots of go in him. He was the beginning of a long list of horses and horse-trading. When we bought a particularly difficult horse, we decided to take a riding class with Marty Martin from Longmont, CO. He was one of those "least resistant" type of trainers. It worked well for me, and it even came in handy when teaching kids in public school.
Now my friend Lynda was a real cowgirl. She was my good friend and neighbor in Questa. We hauled kids and horses all over NM together to 4H horse shows and rodeos. Our families practically lived together in those days. She taught me lots about being a real cowgirl. In fact she had a saying that we used on each other whenever something particularly tough came up. She would say, "A real cowgirl would be able to do…" whatever it was at the time. We may have been best friends, but we were also very competitive. One time, I asked her to bring her four-horse-goose-neck trailer to our pasture to pick up a horse. She said she did not think she could get her trailer turned through our gate. I said, "A real cowgirl could pull that trailer through that gate." She didn’t go for it, but it did irritate her- which is what I meant for it do.
One spring we needed a horse quickly for my son’s 4H project (his horse had broken a bone in his hoof). A friend let us borrow one of his horses. We picked up this little mare that had wintered in a huge pasture over in Carson, NM – grazing along side elk. She looked pretty rough. I took her to Lynda’s because Lynda had a nice round pen. The pen was a little big, but it had tall solid walls slanted out slightly and full of deep sand – in case I hit the ground while trying this horse. I did not want to put my son on this horse until I found out what she was like. I found out pretty quick. The minute I hit the saddle, she took off at a full gallop. Around and around we went. I thought that if she wanted to run in deep sand, I would just ride her down. After all, I had the easy job – she was doing all of the work. Then it happened. I felt the saddle come loose. As fast as the mare was going, the inertia lifted both me and the saddle from the back of the horse. I was helpless as we came away from the horse and slammed into the round pen wall. My son came running over to see if I was all right. Then he said, "Wow Mom! You looked just like a turtle the way you hit that wall and slid down on your back!" Thank you, son, now get me up. The horse was standing quietly, which is a good sign, but I was hurting. I went inside to where Lynda was cooking dinner, and told her what had happened. She said, "Well, did you get back on?" I shook my head (I may have said something more like "hell no!’) Lynda said, "A real cowgirl would get back on." That irritated me, which she meant to do. I had all sorts of excuses why I was not getting back on that evening, but the challenge was there. Lynda always did that for me. She helped make me a real cowgirl.
My son rode that little mare all summer long. It turns out she was one heck of a speed horse. She only had two speeds – standing still and all out. They won all sorts of speed events – barrels being her specialty. Her reining pattern was done a little too fast for the judges. Bo and Sassy became big buddies. We hated giving her back, but we did. She made all of us better riders.
I wasn’t always a "real cowgirl", but I married a man who was a farmer raised on farms in West TX and Eastern NM whose father raised race horses. My horse experience was much like any kid who spent his summers in the mountains and loved horses. We lived behind the Gallager & Gwynn riding stable in RR. My brother and I spent lots of money and time at the stable. My best friend had four horses that they kept at their cabin in the Upper Valley. We rode quite a bit and chased Johnny Mutz’s cattle all over the valley – and got in lots of trouble. When at home in TX, my Uncle Joe would let me ride his horses. He said I was a "natural rider" (thanks Uncle Joe; I love you for that). All of those horses were the "good as gold" sort – the kind you could just get on and ride off without any fear. My knowledge of horses was "kick to go - pull to whoa". My real horse training would come later.
Then came the day when my husband said, "Let’s buy a horse." Sounded great to me. Our first horse was great – great with the kids and a real babysitter, yet with lots of go in him. He was the beginning of a long list of horses and horse-trading. When we bought a particularly difficult horse, we decided to take a riding class with Marty Martin from Longmont, CO. He was one of those "least resistant" type of trainers. It worked well for me, and it even came in handy when teaching kids in public school.
Now my friend Lynda was a real cowgirl. She was my good friend and neighbor in Questa. We hauled kids and horses all over NM together to 4H horse shows and rodeos. Our families practically lived together in those days. She taught me lots about being a real cowgirl. In fact she had a saying that we used on each other whenever something particularly tough came up. She would say, "A real cowgirl would be able to do…" whatever it was at the time. We may have been best friends, but we were also very competitive. One time, I asked her to bring her four-horse-goose-neck trailer to our pasture to pick up a horse. She said she did not think she could get her trailer turned through our gate. I said, "A real cowgirl could pull that trailer through that gate." She didn’t go for it, but it did irritate her- which is what I meant for it do.
One spring we needed a horse quickly for my son’s 4H project (his horse had broken a bone in his hoof). A friend let us borrow one of his horses. We picked up this little mare that had wintered in a huge pasture over in Carson, NM – grazing along side elk. She looked pretty rough. I took her to Lynda’s because Lynda had a nice round pen. The pen was a little big, but it had tall solid walls slanted out slightly and full of deep sand – in case I hit the ground while trying this horse. I did not want to put my son on this horse until I found out what she was like. I found out pretty quick. The minute I hit the saddle, she took off at a full gallop. Around and around we went. I thought that if she wanted to run in deep sand, I would just ride her down. After all, I had the easy job – she was doing all of the work. Then it happened. I felt the saddle come loose. As fast as the mare was going, the inertia lifted both me and the saddle from the back of the horse. I was helpless as we came away from the horse and slammed into the round pen wall. My son came running over to see if I was all right. Then he said, "Wow Mom! You looked just like a turtle the way you hit that wall and slid down on your back!" Thank you, son, now get me up. The horse was standing quietly, which is a good sign, but I was hurting. I went inside to where Lynda was cooking dinner, and told her what had happened. She said, "Well, did you get back on?" I shook my head (I may have said something more like "hell no!’) Lynda said, "A real cowgirl would get back on." That irritated me, which she meant to do. I had all sorts of excuses why I was not getting back on that evening, but the challenge was there. Lynda always did that for me. She helped make me a real cowgirl.
My son rode that little mare all summer long. It turns out she was one heck of a speed horse. She only had two speeds – standing still and all out. They won all sorts of speed events – barrels being her specialty. Her reining pattern was done a little too fast for the judges. Bo and Sassy became big buddies. We hated giving her back, but we did. She made all of us better riders.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
May Past and Present
Here is my family last May working on the roof. Not only can Jes use that nail gun, she can cook and sew too. The kayak is our newest toy - much better than roofing.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Last May
Toby took yesterday off to work around the house. By the end of the day, we had put half of my kitchen cabinets in the house (as I do the victory dance). We then grabbed a greasy burger at Nichol’s and went to pick up a kitchen sink for my cabinet. There is the real possibility that by the end of today, I could have a kitchen sink too!
All of this work on the house made me think of last year at this time. So, I went back to last May’s blogs. We were scrambling and working hard to get our house built by the first of June. We did not actually get into the house until July 1st. Reading through some of those posts made me laugh. Although building our house was especially hard, it was lots of fun working with my family every day. I thought I would post one of my favorite blogs. If you like it, you can read more from the month of May 2005.
Mission Impossible
My husband once wrote me a funny email called "Secret Agent Ranchhand". It started off something like, "Your mission, if you choose to accept, is ..."He continued to give me instructions as if I were a secret agent, but the mission was to put anti-freeze in the bulldozer. This has remained a joke between us whenever he has a chore (mission) for me.
Today my mission is to take the 24' gooseneck trailer to Tecumseh, OK and pick up a trailer load of sheet metal for the roof of our new house (and swing by Ardmore to drop Jesse off to pick up her Honda at the mechanic's). It sounds simple enough, but just like with Tom Cruise, the mission gets a little tougher as you go. First off, the trailer has to be cleaned out after we hauled cattle to the sale barn last week. For those of you who know cow manure after being on wheat pasture, I am sure you will understand the difficulty. For those of you who don't know cows, you don't want to know. It turns out that we left the good flathead shovel and broom at the new house, but no problem, we can use a hose to get it wet, and then shovel it out. This meant hooking up to the trailer and backing to the barn since one tire has a slow leak (why don't we get that fixed?) to air it up before pulling up close enough to a water hose. Most of these things needed doing anyway. Here is where the mission got impossible. Jesse and I put the special nozzle on the water hose to create the pressure needed to wash out the manure, but no water would come out. Jesse unscrewed the nozzle and out fell some sort of giant bug. Jesse screamed and dropped the nozzle. We got a good laugh out of that, and put the nozzle back on. Still no water! We banged around on the nozzle, but nothing came out. So I poked a screwdriver up in it, and sure enough there was something stuck in the nozzle. After I figured out how to take the nozzle apart, I saw the bug guts wedged in the whole at the end of the nozzle. I poked these out with my screwdriver - not so bad. Then I poked the screwdriver back into the nozzle - hmm, more bug. It took me quite a while to get the entire bug out of the nozzle, and it was gross! As I worked to get the bug guts out of the nozzle, I began to think, "Do other wives do this? I cooked his breakfast, packed his lunch, and I am driving the truck to pick up roofing. Did I sign on for bug gut duty?" I was really working myself into a tizz. With all the bug guts out of the nozzle I took it the nozzle to Jesse who was waiting with her mud boots and gloves to wash out the trailer (she is a good kid). This time the nozzle worked great. I told Jesse I was going to clean the kitchen and get the bug guts off the counter. She responded with, "Are you going to put them on Dad's pillow?" Hmm, not a bad idea!
All of this work on the house made me think of last year at this time. So, I went back to last May’s blogs. We were scrambling and working hard to get our house built by the first of June. We did not actually get into the house until July 1st. Reading through some of those posts made me laugh. Although building our house was especially hard, it was lots of fun working with my family every day. I thought I would post one of my favorite blogs. If you like it, you can read more from the month of May 2005.
Mission Impossible
My husband once wrote me a funny email called "Secret Agent Ranchhand". It started off something like, "Your mission, if you choose to accept, is ..."He continued to give me instructions as if I were a secret agent, but the mission was to put anti-freeze in the bulldozer. This has remained a joke between us whenever he has a chore (mission) for me.
Today my mission is to take the 24' gooseneck trailer to Tecumseh, OK and pick up a trailer load of sheet metal for the roof of our new house (and swing by Ardmore to drop Jesse off to pick up her Honda at the mechanic's). It sounds simple enough, but just like with Tom Cruise, the mission gets a little tougher as you go. First off, the trailer has to be cleaned out after we hauled cattle to the sale barn last week. For those of you who know cow manure after being on wheat pasture, I am sure you will understand the difficulty. For those of you who don't know cows, you don't want to know. It turns out that we left the good flathead shovel and broom at the new house, but no problem, we can use a hose to get it wet, and then shovel it out. This meant hooking up to the trailer and backing to the barn since one tire has a slow leak (why don't we get that fixed?) to air it up before pulling up close enough to a water hose. Most of these things needed doing anyway. Here is where the mission got impossible. Jesse and I put the special nozzle on the water hose to create the pressure needed to wash out the manure, but no water would come out. Jesse unscrewed the nozzle and out fell some sort of giant bug. Jesse screamed and dropped the nozzle. We got a good laugh out of that, and put the nozzle back on. Still no water! We banged around on the nozzle, but nothing came out. So I poked a screwdriver up in it, and sure enough there was something stuck in the nozzle. After I figured out how to take the nozzle apart, I saw the bug guts wedged in the whole at the end of the nozzle. I poked these out with my screwdriver - not so bad. Then I poked the screwdriver back into the nozzle - hmm, more bug. It took me quite a while to get the entire bug out of the nozzle, and it was gross! As I worked to get the bug guts out of the nozzle, I began to think, "Do other wives do this? I cooked his breakfast, packed his lunch, and I am driving the truck to pick up roofing. Did I sign on for bug gut duty?" I was really working myself into a tizz. With all the bug guts out of the nozzle I took it the nozzle to Jesse who was waiting with her mud boots and gloves to wash out the trailer (she is a good kid). This time the nozzle worked great. I told Jesse I was going to clean the kitchen and get the bug guts off the counter. She responded with, "Are you going to put them on Dad's pillow?" Hmm, not a bad idea!
Monday, May 08, 2006
Old Friends
In 1978, Toby and I moved to San Marcos, TX, to go to college at SWTSU. We lived in the married housing near the river – across from the campus. The married housing was made up of individual cellblocks of eight apartments each. We called them cellblocks because they were made of cinder block. They were actually old officer’s barracks from somewhere. There were four apartments on the bottom and four on the top of each unit. We lived in F building. It should have been called E for ethnic house. When we first moved in, there was a couple living upstairs who were Iranian and Colombian. They were never friendly and thought Americans were stupid (so why were they going to school in America?). The couple next door was from Taiwan. The couple behind us was a Hispanic guy from Del Rio and a Philippine girl. Then there was Alice and Tyrone Borelli. He was a German/Italian from the California. Alice had grown up in South Africa, but gone to school in Holland. There was also a black couple in the cellblock and one other Caucasian couple. It was an interesting time in our life.
When the Iranian/Colombian couple moved out at mid-term (I always wondered how she liked moving to Iran) Mike and Carolyn moved in. Mike was an Air Force brat and Carolyn was a good-ole girl from East Texas. The Ethnic House was a great place to live. We shared food, air-conditioners, TVs, and whatever else someone had that someone else needed. We had a great air conditioner. M and C had a great TV with cable. We often gathered in our air-conditioned apartment and then ran their cable connection out the window and into our house with their TV. Tyrone taught us to make Italian food. His wife could drink beer like I could drink water. The Mexican/Philippine couple also cooked some great meals. It was like our own little community.
We pretty much lost track of the whole bunch except for Carolyn. She and Mike divorced, but we have stayed in touch all of these years. Our children are grown, and we have both been to lots of places in our life, but our friendship has remained. Carolyn came to see us this weekend, and it was like old times. Pretty special!
When the Iranian/Colombian couple moved out at mid-term (I always wondered how she liked moving to Iran) Mike and Carolyn moved in. Mike was an Air Force brat and Carolyn was a good-ole girl from East Texas. The Ethnic House was a great place to live. We shared food, air-conditioners, TVs, and whatever else someone had that someone else needed. We had a great air conditioner. M and C had a great TV with cable. We often gathered in our air-conditioned apartment and then ran their cable connection out the window and into our house with their TV. Tyrone taught us to make Italian food. His wife could drink beer like I could drink water. The Mexican/Philippine couple also cooked some great meals. It was like our own little community.
We pretty much lost track of the whole bunch except for Carolyn. She and Mike divorced, but we have stayed in touch all of these years. Our children are grown, and we have both been to lots of places in our life, but our friendship has remained. Carolyn came to see us this weekend, and it was like old times. Pretty special!
Friday, May 05, 2006
Battle of Puebla
Happy Cinco de Mayo! My students in Northern NM loved to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, but they did not have a clue what it was all about. In fact, I use to tease them that they were actually Texans which did not make them happy. When Santana surrendered to the Texans, the Texans claimed all the land north of the Rio Grande up to its headwaters. That includes Taos and Questa and a few other famous NM cities. Doesn't that make them Texans?
We have been getting some wonderful rains. Jesse was able to till up the garden and plant a few things. She also tilled up the sand that we had put down last fall for our patio. Some of you might remember the brick stories from past posts. Jesse wanted to do a patchwork quilt type patio made with an assortment of bricks. Some old man had a pile of bricks in his pasture that he was willing to sell us. They were good solid red bricks. We were happy digging through them right up until we found the snake. It was a beautiful snake, but a snake. We decided we had enough of those bricks and moved on. Anyway, the sand needed to be tilled – it has been brick-hard through the winter and had grass and weeds growing in it After one of the recent rains, I stepped out to grill some hamburgers - sinking about knee deep in the freshly tilled patio sand. I had to turn and lunge for the back steps. It is like quicksand now.
We have also done some more work on my kitchen cabinets. I helped Toby sand on them, but he has been doing most (all) of the work. They are really taking shape. Wow, a kitchen sink with cabinets – it may be too much for me.
Wednesday I went to WF and spent the day with Mom. Jesse went too. It was a really good day. We got lots accomplished – shopping and errands. At one point, Mom got teared up which is not unusual, but this time I did not see it coming. One minute she was talking about my sister, Kathy, and her new job. She was saying that she had bought Kathy new clothes for her new job, that Kathy would be getting a new vehicle, and how glad she was for Kathy. Then she turned and just started crying. It so took me by surprise, that I just stood staring. I said, "Wow, Mom! Was it the shopping for new clothes, the getting a new car – cause those things certainly make me cry." Mom got tickled, then, and started laughing. She said that she had just thought about how Dad would want her to spend some money on Kathy getting her ready for the new job, and it just made her tear up. She’s right. Dad would want that, but wow, women have such weird thought processes and emotions. It takes another woman to keep up.
We have also done some more work on my kitchen cabinets. I helped Toby sand on them, but he has been doing most (all) of the work. They are really taking shape. Wow, a kitchen sink with cabinets – it may be too much for me.
Wednesday I went to WF and spent the day with Mom. Jesse went too. It was a really good day. We got lots accomplished – shopping and errands. At one point, Mom got teared up which is not unusual, but this time I did not see it coming. One minute she was talking about my sister, Kathy, and her new job. She was saying that she had bought Kathy new clothes for her new job, that Kathy would be getting a new vehicle, and how glad she was for Kathy. Then she turned and just started crying. It so took me by surprise, that I just stood staring. I said, "Wow, Mom! Was it the shopping for new clothes, the getting a new car – cause those things certainly make me cry." Mom got tickled, then, and started laughing. She said that she had just thought about how Dad would want her to spend some money on Kathy getting her ready for the new job, and it just made her tear up. She’s right. Dad would want that, but wow, women have such weird thought processes and emotions. It takes another woman to keep up.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Monday, May 01, 2006
Mr. Postman, is there a letter for me...
Jesse and I were mailing off a package to our soldier today – we are part of Soldier’s Angels. We sat in front of the post office trying to think of something interesting to say in the letter to go with our package. We try to be entertaining, but we really do not know this young man, therefore writing can be difficult. He is not our first soldier, but he is probably the most responsive of the three soldiers we have had. The first soldier wrote short emails until he came home - then nothing. The second soldier never responded to our packages or letters at all – really difficult. Jesse wrote to a soldier, whom we met through a military blog, for almost a year. About the time he was to come home, Jesse told him she had enjoyed writing to him and receiving his emails, but she knew he would not write once he returned to the States. His last email said, "Of course I will always write to you." Since then she has heard nada. There was also a certain Airman to whom Jesse wrote. While he was deployed, he wrote quite a bit. Once he was home, letters were few and far between. Jesse thinks it is just a "guy thing" - just the way men are. It does not really matter. We just want to support our soldiers as best we can in whatever way we can. Hopefully they enjoy the packages and letters. We do try to please.
That brings me back to the post office today. One of the postmen behind the counter at the PO is just pretty cute. He is more my age than Jesse’s. Although he is always helpful, friendly, and efficient with my APO packages, he tends to flirt and be a little friendlier with Jesse when she is mailing something (who can blame him). Although Jesse likes his teasing, the truth is, she gets a little flustered by him. She said that last week she was mailing a painting to a friend. She had put the painting in a pizza box. When she handed the box to the postman, he said, "Wow, a good looking woman and a pizza too!" Jesse just responded with her usual smile, but she said it reminded her of that internet joke. " What internet joke?" I asked. She said, "You know, the one where it says ‘How to please a woman’ and then it has a list with all sorts of things - like ‘show up with flowers’ and lots of other things for men to do to be pleasing to women. But then it says ‘How to please a man – show up naked and bring food."
That brings me back to the post office today. One of the postmen behind the counter at the PO is just pretty cute. He is more my age than Jesse’s. Although he is always helpful, friendly, and efficient with my APO packages, he tends to flirt and be a little friendlier with Jesse when she is mailing something (who can blame him). Although Jesse likes his teasing, the truth is, she gets a little flustered by him. She said that last week she was mailing a painting to a friend. She had put the painting in a pizza box. When she handed the box to the postman, he said, "Wow, a good looking woman and a pizza too!" Jesse just responded with her usual smile, but she said it reminded her of that internet joke. " What internet joke?" I asked. She said, "You know, the one where it says ‘How to please a woman’ and then it has a list with all sorts of things - like ‘show up with flowers’ and lots of other things for men to do to be pleasing to women. But then it says ‘How to please a man – show up naked and bring food."
The Weekend
What a refreshing rain! Someone at church said that we got about 2 inches of rain this weekend. I wouldn’t know because the rain gauge disappeared again. We had one on the fence, but the horses kept knocking it off. Then the dogs would get it and carry it away, or we would mow over it in the tall grass along the fence. Then we got a gauge that you put in the yard. Although we have a designated rock driveway, it is amazing how many people ignore the rocks and drive in our yard. That could be because it still looks like part of the pasture. Either someone drove over the rain gauge, or possibly the dogs got it, but it is gone. Toby says it rains more when we do not have one up.
We went to The City on Saturday morning. The weather was so cool that I made Toby buy me a summer sweater. We had lunch with my son, daughter-in-law, and the Wild Thing. Wild Thing was quite entertaining as usual. Toby and I ran some errands including a trip to the motorcycle place and Harbor Freight. We also picked up the new kayak – a yellow two-seater. When we got home from The City, the sun had come out, and it was very nice. Jesse had some friends over making the house very small, so Toby and I took the kayak out to the lake for a test spin. It is going to take some practice for the two of us to row together and keep the kayak going straight, but it was fun.
After church on Sunday, some friends had a cookout/volleyball party. It was the first of many now that the weather is warm. Although I played volleyball too, my team was not very good. That left plenty of time to set on the sidelines and hoot and holler with my gal-pals and watch the babies playing in the side-sand of the court. It made for a very nice weekend. Notice that I did not do any spring cleaning this weekend.
We went to The City on Saturday morning. The weather was so cool that I made Toby buy me a summer sweater. We had lunch with my son, daughter-in-law, and the Wild Thing. Wild Thing was quite entertaining as usual. Toby and I ran some errands including a trip to the motorcycle place and Harbor Freight. We also picked up the new kayak – a yellow two-seater. When we got home from The City, the sun had come out, and it was very nice. Jesse had some friends over making the house very small, so Toby and I took the kayak out to the lake for a test spin. It is going to take some practice for the two of us to row together and keep the kayak going straight, but it was fun.
After church on Sunday, some friends had a cookout/volleyball party. It was the first of many now that the weather is warm. Although I played volleyball too, my team was not very good. That left plenty of time to set on the sidelines and hoot and holler with my gal-pals and watch the babies playing in the side-sand of the court. It made for a very nice weekend. Notice that I did not do any spring cleaning this weekend.
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