Naruna, Texas

After Sam

2011-05-14T21:17:00.000-05:00

This has been a traumatic week here in Naruna. Sam the Beagle, the full-time goodwill ambassador for Naruna, and also the unofficial greeter at Naruna Baptist Church whenever the doors were open, unexpectedly passed away this week from unknown causes. He spent his days making his rounds, then sprawling either on the porch or under a tree and waiting for someone to come and visit.

The Flying Beagle

It mattered not to Sam whether he was the intended focus of your visit, only that you stopped by. Anyone who pulled in at the little church or cemetery across the road from his house soon found they had an escort on their errand. Sam was a good dog and ever attentive companion who only wanted to make everyone feel welcomed and loved.

Sam & Santa BoBo

Baby Sam

Life continues even in the face of grief and loss. It is not easy to accept and adjust to the loss of any friend, but we have to move on. This has been hardest on my Lovely Bride who picked Sam out from amongst his litter mates, brought him home, and raised and nurtured him for the 5 years he was with us. But also affected are the other 4-legged residents of Naruna.

Sam & Ruby Jean

Ruby Jean was only a puppy when she came to live with us and Sam was the big brother who looked out for her & taught her the ropes, including tips on herding uncooperative cows.

Rosie the Lab had lost her own puppy in an accident when Sam came into her life, ably filling that void.

Sam & Rosie

Tizzie the grey tabby quickly let the young beagle know what his boundaries were, and then settled into a, more or less, peaceful coexistence.

Sam & Tizzie

Fred the kitten only arrived a week or so before Sam’s demise, but still acts as though he knows something is not right.


Ruby Jean - Freddie - Sam

We are all very tentative moving through the days, moping about and sneaking sideways glances as if in hopes Sam will somehow appear.

We’ll miss you, Sam.

Ending a Christmas Story...in April!

2011-04-24T09:09:00.000-05:00

Salzburg Market

Spending too much time on social networking sites can be an impediment to actual communication. I realized this when I looked over my blog and was startled to find I left our Christmas trip down the Danube dangling unfinished more than four months after finishing the trip itself. Too much Facebook time! Back to work.

One of the Salzburg markets

Salzburg castle

Our "Christmas Markets Along the Danube" river cruise was our first cruise as well as our first organized tour of any sort. Grand Circle Tours was the tour company, and we had heard good things about them from family and friends who had taken their cruises and land excursions in many different parts of the world. Our itinerary was Nurnberg to Vienna on the MS River Concerto in early December 2010, and we added a 4 day pre-trip in Munich so we could see more of Germany and allow a little time to deal with jet-lag. It also gave us the chance to become acquainted with our program director, Jutta, and several of our fellow travelers.

The Abbey at Melk

Weather presented us with some challenges, even before we arrived in Germany. Flights were delayed or rescheduled and we were beginning to wonder about the wisdom of trying to travel to Europe in the winter. Once we arrived in Munich and Jutta took charge, we put our worries behind us. The Munich part of our trip went perfectly, and the optional trip to Neuschwanstein was everything we had hoped for. My wife and I have since agreed the brief time we spent that day in Oberammergau, walking the quiet streets and the rustic Christkindlmarkt, was the high point of the entire trip for us.

Linz Christmas Market

As we came closer to joining the ship for the actual cruise, it became clear that our trip was not progressing according to the original plan. The early rains and lots of snow continued to cause the river to rise, making it impossible for the Concerto to reach Nurnberg. Jutta was in constant contact with the ship, and even though there were many changes in our itinerary to cope with weather related problems, we didn't miss anything which had been planned. More time was spent on buses than we liked, but we also found we were seeing more of the German towns and countryside than if we had simply sailed down the river.

Metal ornaments - only in Linz.

Once aboard the Concerto, we quickly fell into a routine and the Captain and crew took extremely good care of us, welcoming us back from each shore excursion with warm cider and hot towels. The Chef and kitchen staff outdid themselves and I wondered if I would ever be hungry again. Our trip down the Danube through Austria went smoothly. Linz and Melk slipped past much too quickly and we found ourselves wishing we had signed up for the Vienna post-trip extension.

Last stop - Vienna

Very little of our trip wasn't affected by the weather. Many plans were changed, adjustments made, times altered. All without sacrificing any part of the trip. As we left the ship in the early morning hours to go to the Vienna Airport, we kept chuckling to ourselves as we remembered Jutta’s oft repeated words…”Anyone can take a Christmas trip, you get to have a Christmas Adventure!”

Vienna market

The Wiener Rathaus

So now the question is raised, should we take another organized cruise/trip? Or do as we did before and strike out on our own? Mike and I discussed this as the cruise was winding down, and we both agreed it was very nice having someone else doing the planning and handling the logistics, especially when plans have to be altered because of weather, etc. But it would be nice to have more flexibility to allow for more time when a really interesting town is discovered, or a special museum is missed because it isn't open until the next day. Or just really not feeling like doing much of anything except rest for a day to recuperate. No decisions yet, but I'm looking at a GCT tour of Tuscany and the Amalfi coast which sounds really interesting. But then I've always wanted to spend a couple of weeks in the north of Spain wandering along the old pilgrims' path to Santiago. Decisions...decisions.

Passau - A City of Three Rivers

2011-02-04T22:10:00.000-06:00

Passau was to be our last German city before crossing into Austria. It was also the first we were able to explore by walking from our docked ship, giving us a little more time for poking around instead of riding buses.

Passau is known as the City of Three Rivers, where the Danube is joined by the Inn river from the south and the Ilz from the north. Our mooring site there was on the tip of the peninsula between the Danube and the Inn, with the mouth of the Ilz just across the river. It is said this is where the Danube became known as the "Blue" Danube, because of the color of its water where it joins the "green" Inn and the "black" Ilz. Riding along at water level, none of it looked particularly colorful - just varying shades of brown.

As we explored the Old Town, or Altstadt, the importance of the rivers became clear. Just walking across the gangway to dry land gave us a glimpse of some of the local fishermen, including this one placing his catch into a fish trap.

Continuing into town, my eye was caught by a street sign affixed above head height to a building announcing we were in Brewery Alley. I then noticed above it a white stone marker which my wife translated to me as being a high water marker. Living at the confluence of three rivers means having to head for higher ground occasionally!

Of course, our stated purpose in visiting Germany & Austria was to see Christmas Markets. In Passau, the markets tended to be smaller and scattered throughout the old downtown area.

Very low key compared to the more metropolitan venues found in Munich and Nurnberg.

Nice place to slowly wander about while enjoying another warming beverage.

Having a little more free time meant we were also able to seek out an actual restaurant, rather than enjoying more market food. In Passau, our choice was a well-recommended place named the Bayerischer Lowe. Some delicious, upscale Bavarian cuisine gave us a welcome break from our regular diet of wurst and sweets.

An advantage of meandering without a guide, is you get lost and find things you weren't looking for. This was just the case when we stumbled upon a small shop on an extremely steep and icy street as we were headed back to the ship. The shop was named "Dies und Das" or "This and That", and it lived up to its name by having an eclectic collection of wares which defied easy categorization. The proprietor was glad to have someone make the effort to come into his out of the way place, and my Lovely Bride obligingly made more purchases there than anywhere else on the trip.

Next, back to the ship to prepare for our first daylight cruising on the Danube.

My Review of Teva Riva eVent Shoes - Men's

2011-02-04T14:17:00.001-06:00

Originally submitted at REI

Featuring awesome eVent® waterproof protection, excellent support and fit, Teva Riva shoes take you from town to trailhead and beyond without missing a step.

Great Winter Shoes

By Dave from Naruna from Texas Hill Country on 2/4/2011

Sizing: Feels full size too small

Pros: Comfortable, Breathes Well, Waterproof, Lightweight

Best Uses: Cold Weather, Casual Wear, Travel

Describe Yourself: Comfort Driven

I bought these shoes for a trip to Germany just before Christmas. I didn't want a full on boot, but needed something lightweight, waterproof and with good traction. Record snowfalls and many forced changes in plans had us doing much more walking than expected, but these shoes were superb. Never any trouble with traction in snow and ice, and always dry. Be sure to try these on before buying, as I had to move up from my usual size 12 to a 13, but they were super comfortable.

(legalese)

Regensberg

2011-01-09T21:09:00.001-06:00

When we first discussed the idea of taking a trip through Germany and Austria for the purpose of visiting as many Christmas markets as possible, I couldn't help but wonder if I might not become tired of non-stop shopping opportunities. As we meandered from town to town, even though the markets displayed many similarities, we came to understand each had its own personality and "feel". Regensberg presented us with a quiet and laid back market scene. Like many of the towns we visited, there were actually several markets scattered in a variety of platz or squares, so we never knew what we would find just down the street or around the corner.

Temperatures remained in the -6C to -2C range for the entire time we were on our cruise, and we spent the trip layered and bundled in our efforts to stay warm. That time we spent at home looking for the right combination of base layers, sweaters, vests, and jackets paid off when the snow and sleet followed us through every town and marketplace. At first we worried we might appear strange in our bulky, insulated attire. As we learned how to put ourselves together in the most effective way, we decided it was more important to be comfortable than fashionable.

As dusk arrived and we started back across the bridge which had taken us into old town Regensberg, we discovered yet another market nestled against the river. Sadly, we didn't have time to explore, an experience we had time and again during our trip. An in-depth exploration would have to wait for our next visit to Germany, an event Mike and I were already starting to discuss.

Nurnberg

2011-01-05T17:41:00.000-06:00

One of the buildings where post-war trials of Nazis were held.

One of the places we had looked forward to visiting while on our trip was the city of Nurnberg. Having one of the oldest and largest Christmas markets in Germany, and being awash in historical tidbits, this city was capable of keeping both my Lovely Bride and I entertained. Our travel plans continued to change unpredictably, so our time there was less than we wanted. Riding buses from our remote moorings allowed us to see much more of the snow-covered countryside while minimizing shopping and touring time in the cities.

Nazi Documentation Center.
Patterned after Roman Coliseum.

Arriving in Nurnberg, we were given a tour of some of the historic areas. The Zeppelinfeld - where the massive annual Nazi rallies were held as Hitler rose to power in post-Great War Germany and now a venue for concerts and races. The Nazi Documentation Center was begun to serve as a great indoor hall designed to look like the coliseum in Rome, but trebled in size. It was never finished, and is now a museum documenting all the Nazis did before and during the war, in addition to housing the Nurnberger Symphony. As we drew closer to the historic center of the original walled city, we passed by the large complex of courthouses and prisons where judgment was passed on many of those on the losing side.

Nurnberg Christkindl Markt

Die Frauenkirche und ChristKindl Markt

After these sobering reminders of the not too distant past, we fortunately found ourselves in a much more festive setting. We were dropped off near the Nurnberg Christkindlmarkt, and quickly set to exploring the large downtown square. The long rows of stalls were covered with snow, with more coming down in occasional flurries, so staying warm was a priority. The combination of local Nurnberger bratwursts and hot gluhwein did a great job of warming chilly tourists inside and out. I kept wondering what all this hearty fare was doing to my waistline, but wasn't concerned enough to consider abstaining.

Die Nurnberg Christkindl

One thing the Nurnberg Christkindlmarkt is known for is the selection every two years of a new Christkindl, or Christ Child. This young lady opens the market each year and spends most of her time visiting market stalls and spreading good cheer to all. She goes throughout the market, offering blessings, as well as photo ops. She is a goodwill ambassador, even after her tenure is completed.

The Gluhwein Glow!!

Too soon, it was time to rendezvous with our guide for the return to the MS River Concerto. After settling into our seats on the bus, we were told of the next change in our plans...because the snow was continuing to fall and the river level was still rising, we were going to move downriver to the city of Passau. A rather tense two hour ride back to the ship through even heavier snow, followed by another walk along the snow and ice covered path, made us all glad we would be moving early the next morning.

Christmas Marketing

2010-12-26T20:00:00.000-06:00

Up early (becoming a common event), we checked out of the hotel, and were soon on the road to Rothenberg an der Tauber. Rothenberg is a extremely well preserved medieval walled city, and the weather cooperated for once with a beautiful sunny day and temperatures not too far below freezing. The Christmas market was quaint and low-key with many wonderful stands with wurst & gluhwein, but the focus for many of our group was a maze-like shop which was the headquarters of Kathe Wolfahrt. This crafty venue offered all manner of Christmas paraphernalia, as well as cuckoo clocks and other Bavarian souvenirs. Those of us who become claustrophobic in small, craft-filled spaces quickly left this shop for the open air market and the promise of more gluhwein to settle our nerves!
As with so many of the markets, eating was a simple matter of pointing at what you wanted and the vendors were only too happy to provide. An unending supply of wurst with crusty rolls and the local mustard, either spicy or sweet, made for a quick and easy meal. Local biers served to wash down these tasty treats, and warm gluhwein - red or white - allowed shoppers to warm up inside and out. Sweets were available at many of the stands, and in Rothenberg we found some crunchy waffles with cinnamon and powdered sugar.

Like many medieval villages, Rothenberg has a number of towers, and a few members of our group decided to climb one located in the downtown area. Over 230 steps took them to the top of the tower, with the last 10 being up a very narrow ladder. After catching their breath, the process was repeated on the way down. By the time Jose & Bill got back on terra firma, their enthusiasm had definitely waned and they were glad to enjoy the offerings of the market.

Back on the bus, we found we had progressed to Alternate Plan “C”. Instead of moving to Nurnberg and spending the night there, the boat had moved to the town of Deggendorf, and we were to meet it there. If the water level dropped enough, the ship would move on up the river to Nurnberg and we could start our official cruise from there. Traveling down the autobahn towards Deggendorf, the snow continued and driving conditions worsened. Arriving, we realized that we were not at the end of our journey. With so many ships stopped on the Danube because of the high water, dockage was scarce, and our ship was tied up at a landing with no dock which was 500 meters across an icy field from where the buses stopped. A few had the foresight to put a flashlight where it could be reached and we started off, slipping and sliding across the field to our boat. When we drew closer, we found the reason we were asked to walk to the ship…the first bus arriving with passengers from the Nurnberg airport had tried to drive to the ship and had sunk to the axles after breaking through the icy crust covering the muddy field. Noses were numb by the time we arrived and, thankfully, we were greeted by the staff with hot towels and hot cider.

Fairy Tale Bavaria

2010-12-26T19:08:00.001-06:00

Enjoying the Winter Wonderland

Today was time for one of our excursions outside of Munich. We boarded a small Mercedes bus and headed further south into the Alps through the continuing snowfall.

When we came close to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, the bus turned off the main road and headed down winding, two lane roads to the town of Fussen, and on to the fairytale castle built by King Ludwig II known as Neuschwanstein. This was the pattern from which the Disney castles were taken, and the parts of it which were finished, look every bit as dream-like as the modern day copies.

View from Neuschwanstein

Schloss Neuschwanstein is built atop a mountain, nestled amongst still higher peaks, and the first quandary is how to reach the top. Fortunately, there are horse drawn carriages whose drivers are happy to cart visitors to the top for a fee. Even at the end of the carriage ride, there is more climbing to be done before the schloss is reached. Inside, there are hundreds of steps to be clambered up to visit the few finished rooms before then walking down all those steps to exit on the ground floor. A great experience, but one which wore us out completely. We even got the carriage to take us back down to the bus so we could catch our breath.

Passion Play Theater

Our next stop was the small village of Oberammergau, where the world’s premier Passion Play is presented every 10 years in thanks for being saved from the Black Plague. This was the year the play was given, and the inhabitants were obviously relaxing in the knowledge they didn’t have another performance until 2020.

St Nicholas, KristKindl & Christmas Angel

Snow kept coming down more heavily, and we had a couple hours to visit the local Christkindl Markt. After the hectic market scene in Munich, this small town atmosphere was a greatly appreciated change. Wood burning in fire-kettles, gluhwein, schokolade and lots of locals warmly greeting their neighbors made us feel a part of the celebration. St Nicholas wandered the alleys of the market in company with the Christmas Angel and ChristKindl, stopping to talk with all die kinder who were in never-ending motion. Local dogs were underfoot constantly as they chased their masters and each other through the crowd. These earthy touches made this country boy feel very much at home.

Too soon, it was back on the bus and on the road to Munich. Snow plows were working to keep the roads clear, but it was a much slower trip in the early darkness.

Underway

2010-12-26T17:53:00.001-06:00

Thursday and Friday passed in a weary blur, finding us ultimately in the southern Bavarian city of Munich. Delays began in Houston before we boarded our first plane, and carried over and extended with our second flight out of Amsterdam. Many hours later than planned, we arrived, grabbed some dinner and fell into bed.

Saturday morning awakened in a grey blanket of snow mixed with occasional rain. We took a bus tour of Munich, gaining a general feel for the city, and began to make our individual plans for how we would spend our time there. A walking tour of the old town led us to our first Christmas Market, and then we were on our own.

My first purchase was a hat to keep the freezing rain and snow off my head. A jaunty pin with feathers was added so I would blend in with the natives and nobody would ever suspect I was an American tourist. Yeah, right! A brief attempt was made to enter the infamous Hofbrauhaus restaurant and bier garten, but it was already packed at lunchtime due to a televised game by the local soccer club, FC Bayern. Apparently, the local fans overwhelm the hall whenever their team is playing and others are relegated to whatever space might be left over.

Just around the corner was a much quieter place I had seen on the internet and had heard many good things about, the Haxnbauer. This restaurant specializes in Bavarian foods, especially roasted meats. The premiere selection is schweinhaxen, or pork knuckles, slow roasted on a rotisserie until the outside is crispy and the meat inside is tender and succulent. Large mugs of beer were perfect for washing down the roast pig and its sauerkraut and potato accompaniments. Shopping in the Marienplatz Christmas Market helped to work off some of the damage done by the wonderful lunch. I’m not sure what was purchased at this market, aside from Gluhwein to help keep us warm, inside and out.

As night approached, we boarded the Munich U-bahn, or subway, to head back to our hotel. As we waited on the platform, a number of youths dressed in the colors of FC Bayern appeared on the platform and began having a very loud and enthusiastic pep rally for the home team, which had apparently won the days encounter. When we boarded our train, the soccer rowdies and noise followed. The car was rocking from their wild celebrations and most of the other riders silently glared their disapproval at the young men. Susan had eine kleine Oma sit across from her, and Oma carried on a mostly one-sided conversation where the main themes were “fussbol” und “cuckoos”! As usual, Susan nodded her head and muttered an occasional “Ja,” and Oma never seemed to suspect she wasn’t totally fluent in the deutsche. Six stops later, we were grateful to be able to exit into the quiet of the snow filled evening, and then make our way back to our hotel.

We realized that all plans were tentative when our fearless leader and guide, Jutta, informed us that our ship was not in Nurnberg where it should have been. Because of three weeks of heavy early snows, the river level had risen enough to make several bridges on the upper reaches of the Danube impassable by the River Concerto. Plan “B” was to take a bus to Nurnberg, settle into a hotel and await the arrival of the ship, if the water levels dropped enough. Only time will tell.

A Christmas Adventure

2010-12-24T22:11:00.000-06:00

The idea for visiting Europe as a means of celebrating our upcoming 35th wedding anniversary, came neither from my Lovely Bride nor myself. Rather, my sister came up with the notion after making several trips to different parts of the continent in the past few years. The company she liked best was offering a cruise down the Danube with stops at every town of sufficient size to host a Christmas market or Christkindlmarkt. She and her husband will have their 40th anniversary shortly before Christmas, so “we”-meaning my wife and sister- decided a winter-time cruise through Germany and Austria would be just the thing.

Plans and budgets were arranged, the cruise company contacted and reservations made in a surprisingly short period of time. Only after the deposits had cleared the bank did any critical thinking come into play. Suddenly, the prospect of traversing Bavaria and Austria in the dead of winter, and what that might actually mean for sun worshipping Texans more used to enduring long stretches of 100F+ temperatures, loomed large. No longer a carefree boat trip floating down a bucolic river, we were faced with the potential for an Arctic expedition.

Preparations went on for almost a year, with weather forecasts being studied regularly. Strange packages arrived in the mail, and trips were made to local branches of stores specializing in cold weather gear. Research was done trying to determine what exactly was needed, and some items were noticed to be almost identical, yet apparently intended for different uses…after all, what is really the difference between “long johns” and “base layers”?

Finally, time ran out and time for the trip arrived. Ready or not, we arrived at the airport, made our way through security and onto our plane. In case any out there are wondering, flying is no longer a fun activity and it is usually approached with the same feelings of anticipation as dentist visits. However, all airlines are not created equal, and KLM made our journey much more pleasant than most recent sojourns. Better entertainment options, such as seatback monitors and large selections of passenger controlled movies, as well as food which was actually identifiable as well as edible, made the crossing much more tolerable. Seats are still too small, legroom is limited, and cranky babies still keep flyers awake when they should be trying to rest. Some things never do change.

Getting to Germany (Part 2)

2010-12-11T15:18:00.000-06:00

We arrived! Only about 5 hours later than planned, we arrived in Munich. After a few nervous moments around the baggage carousel(why is it always MY bag that comes out last and 5 minutes after everyone else?), we were immediately met by our local tourguide, Christine. Another belated group arrived within just a few minutes, and bags and tourists were tossed into a waiting van for the trip to our hotel. Snow was heavier than in Amsterdam, and quite a bit had accumulated. After a quick walk around the hotel area to point out the entrance to the U-Bahn, ATM, etc. we were once more on our own. First thought was to collapse into bed, but when we starting recalling the past 24 hours, realized we had not eaten anything in some time. Nobody could say exactly how long, because none of our brains were dealing very well with the jet lag and fatigue. We went across the street to a local restaurant and had some wonderful food which revived everyone to the point where they attacked me with snowballs as we left the gasthaus.

Street thugs just before the photographer was pelted with snowballs

Getting to Germany

2010-12-11T14:36:00.000-06:00

One Thursday morning, my Lovely Bride and I packed up and headed to Bush Intercontinental and embarked on an adventure with Sister Kaye and Brother-in-law Michael. Our last venture overseas had been a rather free-form and unorganized time spent wandering the northern part of Italy. Sister K kept extolling the wonders of programmed tours, and so we decided to introduce some order into our lives and try a river cruise down the Danube to Vienna. In December. I know...this doesn't sound like a rational thing for sun loving, life-long Texans to jump into. But as has happened frequently in our married lives, desires to shop in every Christmas Market in southern Germany and Austria overcame reason and rational thought.

And so it came to pass that we delivered ourselves into the hands of TSA for some pre-flight processing. We had heard there were many recent changes to the established security protocols which meant more thorough and invasive examinations of our bags and bodies could be expected. Gratefully, such was not the case. I'm not sure why, but when we underwent our scrutinization, TSA's main interest was the speed in which passengers were completing the process. It took longer to repack carryon bags and get re-dressed than to be examined.

Sister Kaye waiting for our flight.

The initial flight out of Houston was delayed by an hour, and so our subsequent connection from Amsterdam to Munich was also changed. Fortunately, the trans-Atlantic flight wasn't full, so we were able to spread out a bit and have a little extra room. Arriving at Schipol just after dawn, we discovered Europe was enveloped in a grey miasma of fog, rain and snow. And so we sat for four or five hours, watching Holland drip.

By this time, the combination of no sleep and crossing too many time zones too rapidly started to take its toll.

Hopping over the big pond

2010-12-09T11:17:00.000-06:00

We are preparing to leave Naruna and Texas behind in search of some relief from stress and pressures which build up in all of our lives. The occasion of our upcoming 35th anniversary gave us the excuse we didn't really need for taking a trip. We fly out of Houston today in the company of my sister and brother-in-law who are celebrating their 40th anniversary this year. Our first step is to Amsterdam's Schipol airport and thence to the Bavarian city of Munich, where we will visit the local Christmas markets, visit a couple of castles and try to eat as many different local specialties as possible. Of course, you have to wash all that wurst and kraut down with the local brew, or maybe some gluhwein, which is a hot spiced wine. Have to run now, and I'll try to keep all posted as to our progress. Auf wedersehn!

New Toys in Texas

2010-08-08T21:59:00.001-05:00

I decided I better just throw this out and get it over with. I have a new motorcycle! There are family members who will take this as yet another sign of my diminishing mental faculties, and begin anew their efforts to have me committed, "for my own good." My Lovely Bride, after asking me numerous time why I didn't just go ahead and buy one, has now changed her tune and is saying she never encouraged me...she just didn't want to be blamed for making me unhappy for the rest of my life.

Some of you may remember my last misadventure almost four years ago, when I got lost in the fog and woke up with many broken bones and my BMW sitting on top of me. Since then I have worked on getting most of my body parts to function in an almost normal fashion. The BMW, sadly, is still sitting in my garage...no closer to running again. Part of the reason why is certainly a mental hesitancy on my part to get out on two wheels. After all, the last time I tried it, I fell down and went BOOM!

Still having the desire to be out on the road with the wind in my face, yet somewhat unsure of my ability to manage a motorcycle, I began exploring possibilities. Modified bikes with a tricycle rear end grafted on was one option. However, with price tags starting around $30,000, and an image of being for those who are too old or physically unable to ride a "real" motorcycle made them unattractive. Perhaps especially because I fit into both the "too old" and "physically unable" categories. There were other bikes with two wheels in the front, which were even stranger looking. Sidecar rigs were more attractive to me, probably because they had an almost normal appearance, yet still stood out. Many of these had the same pricing problem of the trikes; first buy a $12,000 Harley and then have a $7-8,000 sidecar grafted on. Sidecars tend to be very particular about how they are setup, and lots more time and money could be expended trying to get it just right.

Over the past couple of years, one rig which kept coming up in my search was the relatively unknown Ural. This Russian made motorcycle is a copy of a 1930s era military BMW. Depending on which story you want to believe, the Russians stole, bought or were given some of these already outdated motorcycles which were specifically designed to have a sidecar attached. They then reverse-engineered them, or more probably, were given the tooling by the Germans during that brief span of time between signing a non-aggression pact and Germany invading Russia. A factory was initially set up in Moscow, but when Hitler's panzers headed east, it was packed up and moved deep into the Ural mountains. Seventy years later, the little shop in Irbit is still cranking out modern copies of an antique design. Even though its appearance hasn't changed, many of the mechanical parts have been upgraded with more modern materials over the decades. It still will not be mistaken for anything other than a 70 year old design...each gear shift ends in a "clunk", and the factory mandated top speed is 100 kilometers per hour. That translates to about 61 mph for those of us who are still confused by the metric system. Driving my new, used rig home, 50 mph felt very comfortable and the few times I got close to 60, I felt stressed, even though the bike probably was not. It is a rig designed for rough, off-road or back-road operation, which is just what I have available all around me. It even has available two-wheel drive(the sidecar wheel being powered) for use off-road in snow, mud or sand.

The machine I found is a 2008 Patrol with a little over 8,000 miles. One of my first purchases is going to be a set of fog lights to help me avoid a repeat performance.

http://www.imz-ural.com/

A New Greatest Generation

2010-07-31T23:41:00.001-05:00

My father joined the Army in October of 1941, and served as a Combat Medic with the 7th Infantry Division in the Pacific. He took part in the re-taking of Attu & Kiska in the Aleutian Islands, was there during the invasion of Kwajalein Atoll as well as a number of smaller places that never made the news, and ended up in the Philippines for the invasion of Leyte. He was wounded there and made his way home by a very circuitous route which involved stops in numerous military hospitals. He never talked about his war. As a child, I once asked how he had gotten all of his scars, and he joked he had been offered a choice of digging foxholes or going on a patrol. While on that patrol in front of his own lines, someone dropped a mortar round behind him. Today it would be called "friendly fire".

My father-in-law was a navigator in the 525th Bombardment Squadron, 379th Bombardment Group(Heavy) at Kimbolton, England during World War II. It wasn't until late in his life he began to recount some stories of his time there, and most of what he shared was more lighthearted than serious. His B-17(g) was named "London Avenger" and was paid for with pennies donated by schoolchildren in England and christened by the Queen. He and his crew members were more than a little disappointed because they had wanted to be able to design & paint their own risque nose art, but couldn't because of the political implications. Only when reading through his matter-of-fact recounting of the 35 missions he flew do you begin to get an idea of what he endured for his country and the world.

My mother's second husband joined the Marines as soon as he was old enough, and since it was late in the war, passed through basic and advanced infantry training rapidly. He spent some very memorable time training and practicing amphibious assaults on Maui with the 4th Marines before heading out to his first real combat. He made it ashore on a little island named Iwo Jima, and lasted almost half of his first day before having a chunk of oriental metal try to take off his head. He spent a great deal of time recovering in Pearl Harbor, San Diego and other Navy Hospitals, but was finally able to stand after more than a year. He experienced neurological difficulties, pain and muscle weakness for the rest of his life, but he still lived that life to the fullest.

These three men and their lives were my personal reminders of the selfless contributions made by what has become known as "The Greatest Generation." The war they were willing to give their lives in winning has been referred to as the last "good" war, meaning most people understood why our country was fighting, knew who our enemies were, and supported those soldiers, sailors, marines and airmen who were actively engaged in the conflict.

Today we are engaged in a conflict which is spanning our world. This war, for there is no other word for it, doesn't have the support of the American people, who are divided, based more on their political leanings than any critical thinking. People get tangled up in the politics, and try to blame one politician or the other, but it is OUR war and it affects us all, like it or not. Those who try to characterize it as a "good" war or a "bad" war are complete fools! There are no good wars, only necessary ones which we wish we didn't have to fight. That's one of the first things most soldiers learn...the only good war is the one they don't have to fight, because they are the ones who pay the price.

Yesterday we learned that yet another soldier had paid that ultimate price in Afghanistan as a result of an encounter with an improvised explosive device. This was a hometown boy the age of my daughters. He won an appointment to West Point out of high school, graduating and going on to become an Army Ranger, then into Special Forces and earned the right to wear the Green Beret. This month of July has the dubious distinction of having the greatest number of casualties since we entered the country nine years ago.

These brave young men and women who are going in harm's way every day on our behalf are the ones who need and deserve whatever comfort & support we can provide. Those residents of our country(I can't call them citizens) who refuse to support their troops because they don't agree with the politics of someone they blame for starting this war; for not waging it the way they want; or for not ending it as quickly as they'd like, need to engage in some personal soul-searching. If you must, play political games with your own life, but give these brave warriors what they need to do our country's bidding and then let them do their job.

Veterans' Benefits

2010-07-10T23:15:00.000-05:00

People who are acquainted with me know if they want to start a spirited "discussion", all they have to do is say something about the cushy benefits veterans are "given" at taxpayer expense. After my retirement from the Army, I quickly found I needed to maintain full time employment as long as I was interested in luxuries such as regular meals and indoor plumbing. I discovered once I was on the outside of the military healthcare system, access became more difficult and more frustrating as those care providers I had served with left because of their own retirements or PCS moves. Within a very few years, I had to find other health insurance, and what the military provided served only as a secondary source of coverage.

With this as background, I was pleasantly surprised by a benefit the state of Texas affords some of its veterans. In recent years, specialty license plates have become a popular means for states to raise revenue. Charities and colleges each have their special plate advertising their cause or team for a price. I knew that Texas, at little or no cost, provided some of these plates to select groups of deserving individuals, such as winners of the Congressional Medal of Honor and those who earned a Purple Heart.

About a year ago, I was driving around FT Hood and spotted a plate I had not seen before...one with an image of a Legion of Merit medal emblazoned upon it. I checked the TxDMV website, and sure enough, if I was willing to fill out some paperwork and find a copy of my DD214, a set of plates with what my Lovely Bride calls my "pretty medal" could be mine. There was something about paying registration fees, so I assumed I would have to pay my usual annual fee for the privilege of using these nifty reminders of my military service. Last week the anniversary of my getting these plates was approaching, so I was not surprised to receive a renewal notice in the mail one day. On opening the notice, I was startled to see there was no renewal fee listed. The next time I was in town, I found my way into the county tax office to try to rectify whatever error had been made, only to be told that there was no error...there really was no annual renewal fee for holders of the Legion of Merit.

Revisiting the TxDMV website revealed that there are a large number of plates available, allowing almost all veterans to demonstrate pride in their service to their country. Some are completely free, some have a one time charge for acquiring the plates, and others have an annual fee on top of the annual registration fee. What they all do is convey the message that you have honorably served your country and are proud of having done it!

Texas DMV Military & Veteran License Plates

To those who have sacrificed...

2010-05-31T10:38:00.000-05:00

On this Memorial Day, as we remember the sacrifices of soldiers on our behalf, I want to remember and thank another group who have made sacrifices. I want to thank my family...my wife who followed me everywhere without question; and my three beautiful daughters who were repeatedly pulled out of school and away from friends to move across oceans and continents. They went to bed each night knowing of the packed bag sitting in the corner, never sure if Daddy would be there in the morning. Thank you all for your love and support...I could not have made it without you.

Naruna Update

2010-05-15T12:39:00.000-05:00

Anyone who complains of Texas weather being boring, obviously isn't paying very good attention. It is an often stated "fact" that Texas has only two seasons...Summer and Not Summer. This is close to being true many years, but there are always those bumps in the graphs which make our lives interesting.
Last summer passed with records being set for the number of days over 100 degrees, and many of those days set records on their own, with temps of 105-107 and above becoming commonplace. Surface water dried up, wells faltered, and what grass was left turned to powder and blew away. As with most hot, dry spells, the summer eventually came to an end. Instead of the more common deluges and floods we see here in the Hill Country, it ended with a series of small, repeated rounds of rain throughout the fall and into the winter. Stock tanks filled, low water crossings actually were, and everything took on a greenish hue(often associated with mildew!) Then, unusually cold weather caused a lot of record utility bills throughout the winter!
Warm weather came early in the spring, with lots of fruit trees setting buds sooner than most of us wanted to see. Fortunately, we escaped any late hard freezes which would have affected the fruit. Now it is the middle of May, and we are enjoying an unseasonably cool spell, with temps in the mid 60s. Today dawned cool, gray and drippy and is only now beginning to get into the low 70s. If you still don't believe that our weather affects us all, just drop by Naruna and we can compare electric bills...the one I paid yesterday was almost $350.00 less than what we were seeing in January & February.

Family (re)Connections

2010-05-09T21:15:00.000-05:00

In years gone by, families stayed close together. Sons grew up working the land, and either stayed on the home place helping out their parents, or moved onto a piece of property not far removed as they started their own family. Extended family might be scattered over a couple of counties, but generally weren't too far apart. With the demands imposed by an agricultural lifestyle (long before there was such a word!), those extended family groups didn't have many opportunities to gather. Family reunions provided a chance for the family to come together, visit and catch up on the happenings in each other's households, cousins to play together & become reacquainted, and for everyone to sample the special dishes that each housewife was proudest of.

My own family was no different. Most of the different branches of our clan moved from the Carolinas to Texas sometime in the second half of the 19th century. It was not one smooth movement, and there were obstacles to overcome along the way. One such impediment was the War of Northern Aggression which found relatives scattered from Alabama to Louisiana, and on into Texas. As the family groups trickled into Texas, they settled in the area around Brenham, Chappel Hill, Kenney, and Waller County. As the families grew and spread, annual reunions, scheduled around the planting and harvesting of crops, were a way to keep up with how everybody was doing.

Fast forwarding to today, much of the world has changed. For many of us, we are no longer bound to the soil, and have left behind that relative comfort & safety we once experienced when living close to kin. We have spread, sometimes across continents, and in our high speed world, the idea of "going home" for the purpose of "catching up" and renewing relationships is foreign to us. We connect instantly via our many electronic toys, and fail to see the need to sit down with each other. If you don't believe this, corner a teenager and try to have a conversation.

This past weekend, I began the process of trying to undo the last 45 or so years I had neglected those family ties. College, marriage, children, the army & work had all provided excuses for not being able to attend reunions. I appeared in Brenham at Fireman's Park with my Lovely Bride in tow, with a cooler full of lemonade, pasta salad & buttermilk pie. The turn out was light, with most present my age or older, but we were made to feel welcome, especially since we were the first actual "Haleys" to attend the Haley Reunion in many years. Old photo albums were scrutinized, genealogy charts were reviewed and updated, and friendships begun or renewed. A sense of excitement could be felt as plans were put in place for next year's gathering.

Sunday morning found us driving out to the rural section of Waller County where I was born and raised. This was a different group, with most of the attendees still living in the same region. We were the ones driving the farthest, from our home in the Hill Country, to attend this gathering of a different branch of the family, the Bells. It was a much more diverse group age wise than we found on Saturday. Here were the groups of kids playing together, older relatives holding court from their lawn chairs and those in-betweeners circulating from one picnic table to the next, catching up on each other's lives. I found cousins I went to school with back in the dark ages. Back then, all we knew was we were related somehow. With the assemblage of historical knowledge and a couple of books of family trees, we were able to plot out more exactly what is our kinship.

As I sat and listened to these cousins talking, I felt immediately comfortable and at home. The conversation, whenever we weren't discussing relatives, kept going back to agriculture and their relationship with the land. Only after listening for awhile was I struck by the difference that a couple hundred miles can make. In Naruna, everyone has been very thankful for our wet winter and most are very happy with our water status...stock tanks are full, no wells are going dry, and the pastures are green with forage. In Monaville, the total annual rainfall is much greater, but with corn planted and up, everybody was worried about "the drought" and how it would affect those crops which were in the ground if rain didn't come soon. When you depend on the land for your livelihood, it's all about timing.

I'm already making plans for next year, and my kids don't know it yet, but they are included in those plans. I realized that this was something I missed over the years without knowing it, and enjoyed the chance to rebuild those all important connections with family. My children have never had the opportunity to form those bonds or to even realize they have an extended family out there waiting to meet and welcome them.

Oliver

2010-04-25T14:54:00.000-05:00

Oliver was a cat we weren't supposed to have. His mother was a stray who just appeared one day and made herself at home on our rather remote place in the country. Between her frequent roamings and our procrastination, she delivered a litter of kittens before we could get her to our local vet. Most were quickly given away one summer's day while we held a garage sale. The little white one was spoken for, but the family was on the way to town and asked if we could hold him until they returned. Mysteriously, they never came back, and so we ended up with two new cats, Oliver and his slightly demented sister, Tizzie.

Oliver displayed a remarkable propensity for getting into trouble, always being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Neighbors would tell us of him showing up in their live traps on occasion. He also seemed to delight in taunting our dogs, since they were frequently shut up in their pen, while he got to wander freely about Naruna. One day he got carried away in his desire to rub the dogs' noses in his relative freedom, and ran into their pen when the gate was opened! Needless to say, the dogs exacted their revenge upon the annoying pussycat. After a quick trip to a kitty orthopedic specialist in Temple and a week long stay in the feline rehab center, a much subdued Oliver returned to Naruna. He regained his physical abilities with few limitations, but he was a changed cat. His sister, Tizzie, would have nothing to do with him since he apparently didn't smell like her little brother anymore.

After this traumatic experience, Oliver became more of a Momma's boy, seeming to spend more and more time with Susan. Even after recovering fully, he spent much of his time curled up in her lap or on the sofa next to her. Over time, he gradually began to roam farther afield and act more like his old self. He would prowl the neighboring pastures and frequently bring "presents" home to Susan. As the years passed, Susan and Oliver were a fixture, snoozing on their end of the couch in a patch of afternoon sun.

When we returned home late one night from a trip about a month ago, Tizzie was waiting, demanding attention and food. Oliver didn't make an appearance immediately which wasn't unusual, but the next morning, he still was not home. Calls to neighbors were fruitless, and no one at the church across the road had seen him. With time passing, hope ebbed, and now after being absent for more than a month, we are forced to face the reality that Oliver is gone. This is definitely harder than losing previous pets, where we knew what happened to them and frequently sat with them in their last hours.

Not knowing.

Over Stimulation!

2010-04-09T22:05:00.001-05:00

Personally, I favor a more leisurely approach to life, but our goverment has put in place deadlines for us to submit our calculations of what we think we should pay for the privilege of living in this great land. Whether we are in agreement with how those taxes are spent is completely immaterial...our responsibility is to pay. Then we pray that the people who were so convincing before the last election remember what they promised when they asked for our support and our votes. Sometimes, those elected representatives actually remember and try to follow through on those promises...but we still pay.

This past year saw more versions of the truth than had been floated in many a day. It seemed that everyone in Washington knew exactly what we needed, as opposed to what we thought we wanted. One particularly ambitious scheme was a plan to disperse free money to ordinary citizens to stimulate the economy. The particulars of this operation were a little fuzzy, few knew how it would be implemented, and fewer understood how giving small pots of money to individual citizens was supposed to jump-start our national economy. Numerous mailings(paid for by us taxpayers) from different agencies announced that - much like Ed McMahon's sweepstakes - we were already winners and should soon receive our fair share of the bounty.

After a few months with no knock on the door and no check in the mail, I decided that I must have been one of the unlucky few who didn't qualify because of too much income, voting in the wrong primary, or some such detail. The year passed and a new year dawned with a new set of tax deadlines. Like many these days, I went to my local electronics emporium, and purchased software which takes most of the thinking out of tax preparation. As information arrived from employers, banks and mortgage companies, I dutifully entered the data and watched the everchanging tally of how much more I owed big brother. Finally, the flow of information slowed and then stopped, and I saw that I did indeed owe our benevolent federal government another $110. I have heard rumors that some people actually expect to get money back from the Infernal Revenue Syndicate each year, but I was excited to only owe that small additional amount.

The computer clicked and whirred as it checked all the data and recalculated the calculations, and proudly announced that all was well and it was time to send my return off into the ether of the Internet. Only the push of a button was needed to send it on its way. I sat in front of the screen, happy and satisified that this annual duty was completed and with no great additional financial trauma. Suddenly, the computer bleeped and blooped and a message flashed on the screen that my return was REJECTED by the IRS! Instantly, my stomach dropped and my brow became beaded with sweat as I frantically clicked on this message of doom. Fortunately, the tax software knew just what to do and I quickly discovered the Feds had indeed sent me an Economic Stimulus Payment. It was slipped into disability payments I received from the VA and had been spread out so it wasn't really noticeable. No standard form proclaiming this payment was received, and it was only the IRS who seemed to know that I had gotten $250 more than I thought.

Of course, the ultimate indication of how great the economic impact of this so-called Stimulus money was when I added it to my return. Increasing the total income by $250 caused an increase of additional tax owed of exactly $250! The government giveth and the government taketh away! I'm not sure I can stand to be stimulated any more!

Bad Dogs! Bad Dogs!

2010-02-15T09:08:00.001-06:00

Sunday morning arrived early, with dogs whining to be loosed into the clear morning air. The Lovely Bride lost the mental coin toss, and headed downstairs to let them out into the predawn darkness. Little Ruby Jean, with the smallest bladder, immediately ran, did her business, and scampered back into the warmth of the kitchen. When the two larger dogs didn't immediately return, the LB stuck her head out the door and started calling them in her best fishwife voice. Rosie the Lab had decided this was the perfect morning for a tour of the neighborhood, and Sam the Beagle tagged along to see what sort of interesting trouble they could find to get into.

This was not the first time Rosie had led Sam off the straight and narrow path. The LB swears Rosie waits until your back is turned and then disappears faster than any old and crippled dog possibly could. (Rosie has a steel rod, a plate and a handful of screws in a hind leg from a youthful indiscretion!) Usually, she won't leave by herself, but if she can convince Sam to go along, she will take off and may be gone for hours or even overnight.

A quick scan of the roadways leading in and out of Naruna showed no signs of the two truants, so knowing they almost always come home when they are ready I settled in with the paper and some coffee. Time for church came and while catching up on the neighborhood happenings, a couple of folks reported seeing the wayfarers moseying down one of the local county roads. After church, we headed across the road to the house, discussing our plan for tracking down the mutinous mutts, when I noticed what looked suspiciously like Sam the Beagle sitting in his pen. Getting closer, Rosie's head popped up, and the LB & I started congratulating ourselves on not having to chase dogs. Arriving at the pen, we discovered that not only were the dogs in the pen, but the gate was shut and the latch in place! They are devious dogs, but even they have not figured out how to lock the gate behind themselves.

The mystery of who fetched the prodigals home wasn't answered until last night, when the local deputy sheriff knocked on our door. He lives 3 or 4 miles away and had happened up on the two dogs as he was leaving home that morning. He recognized them from some of their previous exploits, and persuaded his wife to sit in the back of the pickup with the dogs as he gave them a ride home. It is not the first time they have been brought home, but surely the first time by the cops! Thank you, Charley, for bringing them home! And a special thanks to the wife who rode in the back of an open pickup with two wet dogs, after they apparently found a roadkill skunk to roll in!

Naruna Weather Update

2010-02-07T21:45:00.000-06:00

Weather in Texas is one of those ephemera which is hard to grasp and pin down solidly. Blazing heat and endless droughts are what folks usually think of as typical Texas weather, interrupted occasionally by floods and blinding blizzards.

Central Texas has been caught up in what the government has been calling an "exceptional" drought for the past couple of years. The Feds have a long list of criteria which helps to identify the severity of the situation, but when the grass crumbles, turns to dust and blows away on the hot south wind, we know it is DRY. Droughts in Texas usually end with torrential rains and devastating flooding. This time, El Nino has scrambled the weather patterns, causing a wetter than usual fall and winter. We have seen some snow flurries a couple of times, with sleet and just plain rain thrown in for good measure. For the most part, we have avoided any bad flooding, with everything just staying a little moist. This process has been gradual enough to almost avoid notice, but this past week we were blessed with 5.5 inches of rain over seven days. Stock tanks were filled to overflowing, creeks and streams out of their banks, and water running across low-water crossings! Even Lake Naruna was filled. Actually, that is normally just a low corner of the pasture across the county road from our house which collects water if enough comes down at one time. Even knowing its transient nature, it is still good to look out and see this acre or so covered with a foot or two of water. And it is still cool enough that mosquitos aren't yet a problem.

When the army moved us to Oahu in the mid '80s, we quickly ruled out living on the Leeward side of the island, because it was dry and brown with prickly pear in spots. Rather than live someplace which looked like west Texas, we opted for the Windward side where everything was green. During the next four years we discovered the downside was that all was green from the constant mildew! Naruna hasn't gotten to that point, but it certainly feels soggy enough. Who knows what next week will bring??

Ruby the Cowdog

2010-02-02T17:13:00.000-06:00

Have you ever noticed that those things in life we feel most certain of, rarely turn out exactly the way we expect? The child you are convinced is going to become a ballerina turns out to have two left feet; or the surefire investment that just can't fail...does; or the strong, durable legs which have carried you around for years suddenly aren't able to do as good a job of keeping up.

With our pets, we also have certain expectations as we enter our relationships. My Lovely Bride's most recent acquisition, a small mixture of Chihuahua and maybe Yorkshire terrier was supposed to be a cute and cuddly lap dog she could hold and pet at will. She worried about how overly dependent on their humans such little dogs sometimes become, and even took the little dog to church so it could get used to being out in the world and being around people.

She needn't have worried about Ruby Jean. Ruby quickly let it be known she was not going to meekly adopt the stereotypical "toy dog" personna. She was quick to run and greet anyone who approached, but didn't really like being picked up and cuddled. Occasionally she would crawl into the LB's lap, but it was always on her own terms.

When the rancher leasing the property next door installed a water trough on the fence line, Ruby discovered her true calling in life. Suddenly, she found there were these huge creatures in her world, who obviously needed to be herded! And herd them she did...or at least she tried. Fifteen hundred pound cows who are used to dogs, don't pay a lot of attention to a 9 pound flyweight whose bark comes out as more of a squeak. This certainly didn't keep Ruby from trying her best, and generally, after drinking their fill, the cows would wander off to a quieter corner of the pasture. Ruby would urge them on with a few last yaps, and then very proudly come sauntering back to the house, confident of her continued ranking as the top Cowdog in all of Naruna.

The Land Of Almost Right

2009-12-28T07:42:00.003-06:00

When we take time to look back over our lives, we are often able to identify moments which influence the remainder of our time on this earth. Having spent a considerable amount of time in the military, I was exposed to a variety of body art in the form of tattoos. Even a couple of my children have gotten small and tasteful tattoos at various times over the years. I figure they are all adults(chronologically at least) and if they can handle getting poked with needles thousands of times to be able to display their personal idea of art...power to them.

On occasion, usually while sitting and having something cool to drink, and finalizing solutions for all the world's problems, I am asked if I ever contemplated getting some body art of my own. Surely, during all those years spent in the service, I had to have contemplated a tattoo to commemorate my exploits on foreign shores. I will respond that, yes, I toyed with the idea of a tattoo occasionally, but was never able to decide what it would be or where it would be located that wouldn't cause terminal embarassment when displayed. Then all thoughts of a tattoo came to a sudden halt while spending a year in Korea, known affectionately by the chamber of commerce as "The Land Of the Morning Calm".

Korea is, even today, a remote or unaccompanied tour for most soldiers. This means being left to your own devices when it comes to finding entertainment, without the minimal supervision of family and friends. Sitting in the Yongson video arcade one evening, I noticed a very sheepish soldier getting ribbed unmercifully by a couple of his buddies. I finally asked why they were being so rough on him, and they laughingly told him to show me. He gingerly raised his sleeve to reveal a very tender, fresh image of the seal of the United States Army. The eagle was resplendent in the still bright colors, and it took a second look to see that emblazoned over the eagle was the caption;

"U.S. AMRY"

Yankee Chili & other Abominations

2009-12-20T22:46:00.001-06:00

One of the great things about being in the Army or one of the other services, is that you get to move around this great country of ours and see how differently people live. When my Lovely Bride and I first joined up, we stayed in San Antonio for the first three years, and the only thing different was the direction I drove to work. So it was with some anticipation we made our first PCS move, with our first assignment outside Texas being to Fort Knox in Kentucky. I had always heard of Kentucky being a Southern state, and in my naive mind imagined it would be much like East Texas. After studying a highway atlas, I discovered that Kentucky was farther north than even Oklahoma, and that Fort Knox was just down the Ohio River from Cincinnati!

After arriving and starting the settling in process, we drove up Dixie Highway to Louisville to scout out the lay of the land, and explore shopping opportunities. While there we decided to try out a Mexican restaurant which had been highly recommended by my new co-workers. In the past, I had occasionally encountered confused souls who claimed to not like Mexican food, and I had never understood them. After all, how could anyone not like the greasy, spicy, cheesy delights of enchiladas, tamales and tacos? After sampling what was described to us as the best Louisville had to offer, it became all too clear. We learned to stock up whenever we made a trip south of the Red River, and the LB learned to scrounge for ingredients in the post comissary and to cook her own Tex-Mex.

My next gastronomic upset came soon after reporting to work in the post hospital. There was a snack bar in the basement which had a pretty extensive short-order menu, and most of us ate there each day. One day I walked in and noticed a new sign on the wall advertising Chili Dogs. That sounded like just the thing to me and so ordered one. I paid the cashier for lunch while the counter man was getting my order, and I glanced up just as he was ladling the chili onto the dog. Only it looked like no chili I had ever seen in my life. It had spaghetti noodles hanging off my hot dog for chrissakes! I truly learned that day I was not in Texas anymore. Later, I found that noodles was only one of many unnatural substances with which chili was adulterated in that region...cinnamon, cloves, cardomom and chocolate were routinely used as seasonings. This was pretty unsettling for me, since I had only recently come to accept the possibility that beans could be added to chili and still be called chili.

We discovered that each new duty station brought the opportunity to experience new foods and cultures, and happily, most of them were much better than that spurious chili. In Korea - chop chae, kimbop, and yakimandoo became favorites which we still sample when the opportunity arises. Raw ahi, shredded dried squid, charsiu bao, and lumpia all bring back fond memories of other assignments. But please...no clove flavored spaghetti sauce on my hot dog!

Our First Christmas Tree

2009-12-20T15:33:00.000-06:00

Christmas is one of those times of the year which is guaranteed to cause old memories to resurface. We remember those we loved who are no longer with us, and if we are lucky, we remember the happy times times we shared while they were here. It is also a time to look back at years past and remember those moments which we have carried into the present with us and incorporated into our lives and celebrations.

This year my Lovely Bride and I are again preparing to celebrate Christmas. We will have a couple of the girls and their significant others over, as well as my mother-in-law, for Christmas Day. So far, decorations have been limited to a few outside lights and a tree. A new artificial, pre-lighted tree has taken center stage, but as I sit and look at it twinkling, I can't help but think of the first tree we shared back before we ever talked about getting married.

We were both in college; she was studying Food Science at Sam Houston State, and I was deep in clinicals at HBU. I was living in a ramshackle apartment building in Montrose, existing on 'mater and onion sandwiches since money was pretty tight. She would come down to Houston on weekends to type my papers and cook real food for me. Even then, she was taking care of me. One weekend in December she arrived, finding me sitting staring at the walls in a funk. She decided I needed to have some sort of Christmas decorations to help cheer me up, and keep me from focusing solely on my upcoming mid-terms. There was no money for a tree, but I had an old stand and a few decorations. We loaded up in my '69 Dodge Dart and headed for the country.

I had grown up northwest of Houston on a remote farm which was still in the family. A decade or so before, I had helped my father plant a thousand or so pine seedlings to try to control erosion. Most had survived and young trees had sprung up amongst the more mature trees. These small trees were the perfect size, and price, for us. The pasture was pretty soggy from recent rains, so we walked the 1/4 mile or so to look for the perfect tree. Looking back, the only thing which was perfect was the pricetag! They were the wrong kind of trees, had never been shaped, and each had a multitude of bugs living in them. But it was what we could afford.

We eventually picked out and cut a tree, and started dragging it across the pasture to the car. As we got closer, cold drops of rain starting falling, causing us to drop the tree and duck into the hay barn. We sat in the doorway watching the rain, and immediately every cow on the place headed towards us. After all, the only time that door was opened was when it was feeding time. My LB-to-be was fascinated by the cows milling about just inches away. For a city girl, she got to experience a lot of firsts that day, yet never panicked. She learned why you wear boots when you work around cows, and I think her love affair with living in the country started at that point.

I don't remember what that tree looked like after it was decorated, and no pictures exist. I couldn't tell you what I received for Christmas that year. Thirty five years later, what I do remember is us going together to pick it out, and in the process, learning more about each other and about ourselves together.

Greetings from Ponca City.

2009-11-29T16:55:00.002-06:00

Greetings from Ponca City. The Lovely Bride and I are gradually making our way homeward towards Naruna. While visiting our first-born and her family outside of Omaha, we learned there was to be a book signing in Ponca City by Ree Drummond to help promote her newly released cookbook, The Pioneer Woman Cooks. If you are not familiar with her, a visit to her website is in order.

She is a former ballet dancer and vegetarian who found true love in the prairies of northern Oklahoma with a homegrown cowboy. She now lives on a humongous ranch populated by cows, wild horses, cowboys and wild children. Renouncing her vegan ways after discovering the glories of beef, she has gone on to start a food-oriented blog where she posts some of the most wonderful recipes known to man. My personal favorites are her Creamed Spinach and Apple Dumplings, although pretty much everything the LB has tried on me has been wonderful. In her spare time, she home schools her four kids, produces some professional quality photography, and takes care of all the usual chores of a ranch wife.

After following her life via the web for the past couple of years, a chance to meet her face-to-face could not be passed up. Although we had never stopped in Ponca City, it is close to the route we usually take. We drove from Omaha and found a room for the night. We then went exploring the wonders of dining out in northern Oklahoma on a Friday night, finding some delightful looking, yet curiously under-seasoned Italian food.

The next morning found us at the bookstore where the signing was to occur. We picked up our line tickets, assuring us a place in the first group of signees. A few minutes before the appointed hour hordes of eager fans began to gather, waiting for their first glimpse of Ree. Sure enough, she walked in right on time accompanied by her oldest daughter, and started greeting her public and autographing books. The LB and I got to chat with them for a couple of minutes and pose for a picture before the line moved us along and out the door to our waiting chariot. All in all, a pleasant encounter. So I was taken by surprise when the LB proclaimed she was disappointed. When I asked why, she revealed she had really been hoping to see Ree’s husband, the infamous Marlboro Man, to see if he was as cute in person as online!

Have I mentioned before that being married to a woman for 34 years doesn’t mean you ever get to understand her?

A child again...

2009-11-26T22:58:00.002-06:00

What is it about certain places or activities which cause us to revert to those simpler ways of our youth? Zoos are some of the places we visit which make us all feel like kids again. When I was little and my parents first took me to the Houston Zoo, they expected me to focus in on the lions and tigers and bears (Oh my!). If not the large carnivores, then they were sure I would be taken by the monkeys and their antics. Instead, I apparently spent the entire day chasing pigeons, much to their amusement.

Fast forward fifty years and it is still the simpler side of zoos which bring out the kid in us all. While visiting our grandkids and their parents who recently moved to a suburb of Omaha, we visited the Henry Doorly Zoo. This is a really neat place, having some tremendous new venues for viewing animals in natural settings. There is a Desert Dome, which actually contains biospheres from several different parts of the world, an IMAX theater, and new large cat and ape buildings.

While strolling the grounds after seeing most of the exhibits, we happened up on a covered bridge leading back toward the exit. The grandkids kept scampering back and forth across the picturesque structure, while the grandparents stopped in the middle to rest up a little. The Lovely Bride discovered there were fish food dispensers, and sure enough, swarms of brightly colored koi in the waters below. The adults spent 20 minutes watching over-fed carp climbing over each other in an attempt to grab the morsels falling from above.

Who says you can't recapture your youth?

Finally, a little Fall!

2009-10-19T08:51:00.003-05:00

It has been a busy month around Naruna, finally getting new floors installed and almost immediately having the oldest daughter and the three grand-girls arrive for a week-long visit. Along with them came family friends & high school chums wanting to have a chance to catch up on all that has happened since Jennifer got married to her Aggie/Cornhusker, left Texas for points north, and got into the baby business.

Peace and tranquility has now returned, along with some cooler weather. September was a rainy month, with Naruna receiving almost 4.3". This caused everything to turn green, cooled things off, and persuaded the county to drop the burn ban for the time being. Highs this weekend have been in the mid 70s, so the Lovely Bride and I embarked on a short road trip Saturday.

We headed down the highway to Johnson City, home of LBJ, 36th President of the United States, where we tried out a new breakfast spot. The Silver K Cafe, http://www.silverkcafe.com/menu/index.html , was new to us, and most of what they offered on their breakfast buffet was very good. Eggs Benedict is not something I expect to find in Hill Country diners, and the Silver K's version was excellent. The LB tried some blueberry pancakes with walnuts which were light, yet filling. My only disappointment was when I made a second trip(I'll never learn) through the buffet to try their interpretation of biscuits and gravy. The biscuits were excellent, but the alleged sausage gravy tasted like none I had ever tried. Maybe in an attempt to make it "healthy" they used something other than standard pork sausage. At any rate, it didn't agree with me, and I kept wishing I had gotten another of the wonderful Eggs Benedict instead. Definitely worth a return trip.

Heading west on Hwy 290, we passed the Johnson ranch, now a National Park, and motored along enjoying the beautiful day until we came to the Wildseed Farm between Stonewall and Fredericksburg. http://www.wildseedfarms.com/index.html This complex is a combination lunch counter, bierstube, and nursery specializing in plants either native to or well adapted to life in central Texas. Their main claim to fame is that they grow wildflowers of all different persuasions on a grand scale, harvest the seeds, and offer them up for sale to all who want to beautify their corner of the world, wherever that may be. This was my reason for getting out, and I quickly picked out a couple pounds of the mixtures deemed best for our neck of the woods. However, the LB was more interested in the multitude of crafts and gift items which were available and so it took awhile before we made good our escape.

Rather than retracing our steps, we turned west again and cruised down the main drag in Fredericksburg. This interesting German town has become a huge tourist magnet in recent years, and with the perfect weather, there were no parking spots to be found anywhere. Not being in the mood for crowds, we turned north and took the winding road toward Llano. Another festival greeted us there, with the courthouse square being packed with BBQ pits, chuck wagons, and people trying to get close to them. We slowed down, smelled the aroma of beef being cooked by folks who know what they are doing, and continued on our way.

One of the blessings of living where we do, is the abundance of interesting back roads which can be used to reach almost any destination. So it was that we wandered through the villages of Cherokee, Chappel, Bend and Nix before turning toward Naruna. Arriving home, I took my newly acquired seeds and went out to sow them in the ditches in front of our house. Of course, it is impossible to perform any task without having assistance, here in the form of Ruby Jean. You may remember she is a curious mixture of canine odds 'n ends, which my Lovely Bride and her veterinarians have decided is most likely chihuahua and yorkshire terrier. The two choices of what to call her are either a "Chorkie" or the slightly more palatable "Yorkiehuahua". This is the kind of world I get to live in! At least the orphans the LB continues to drag home seem to be getting smaller.

Meetin' n eatin'

2009-09-12T09:22:00.009-05:00

There is something special about small rural churches. Our church in Naruna has been around for more than 137 years, with ups and downs in attendance through the decades. Most of the members belong to the same families who settled the area and still reside on family ranches. There are more than a few state designated "Texas Family Heritage Ranches" in Naruna, meaning they have been in the same family and used in agriculture for more than a hundred years.

A church constant over the years is an overwhelming compulsion to eat anytime a group gets together. I think this is true of most churches, and have seen it over and over again as we moved around the world. Of course this eating compulsion works both ways, since attendance is usually the highest on Sundays when there is a "dinner on the grounds" after church services.

One variation of this at our church is to occasionally host a breakfast before Sunday School. Some of the men get up early and cook bacon, eggs, sausage and pancakes for however many people wander in. For some variety, we'll also fry tortillas, potatoes, peppers, & onions so folks can put together breakfast tacos. This is the kind of gathering popular with families since they don't have to feed the kids...all they have to do is get them up and dressed a little early.

The time spent preparing these breakfasts is some of the most productive in enjoying fellowship and getting church business conducted. Formal meetings have their place, but it's hard to stand on protocol when you are flipping pancakes or frying eggs. Of course, there are some problems that go along with feeding folks before church...will they be able to stay awake until the invitation?

A Practical Defense against H1N1

2009-09-09T16:33:00.022-05:00

Swine Flu! That's all you need to say to start people running for the exits. Our country, and indeed the world, has been teetering on the brink of panic, as gloomy predictions fly all about. Last spring was being forecast to be the worst year since the 1918 pandemic which killed more people than the Great War which was going on at the same time. Not much happened and the scare faded some during the summer months as kids dispersed and went their separate ways. Now that school is starting up, the rhetoric is heating up again. Every governmental agency worth anything has a plan. That none of these plans has been tested and probably won't work doesn't slow down the bureaucrats.

In an effort to inject a modicum of reason and sanity into our preparations for this impending plague, I vowed to conduct my own research. I began by searching the literature for historical methods which have been effective in preventing the spread and propagation of disease-causing organisms. Rather than resorting to high cost vaccines or ineffective antibiotics, I sought readily available natural products.

Sodium chloride, or salt, has been been used throughout history for preserving foods and preventing the growth of pathogens in foods. This has been accomplished through its ability to dehydrate and desiccate organisms, rendering them incapable of growth and reproduction.

Acids can be powerful antibacterial agents. Unfortunately, many acids cannot be used directly by humans because of the same caustic effects which make them so effective in killing microorganisms. I tried several types before hitting on citric acid as one which is strong enough to be effective while not harming the humans we are trying to protect.

Another agent which has proven bactericidal qualities is another well known and readily available product, ethanol. Ethanol is a powerful desiccant which has -cidal qualities when used in a variety of applications. I found through trial and error that ethanol distilled from certain varieties of the agave plant was most effective.

Unfortunately, none of these, by itself, had the desired effects. It was only through a fortuitous accidental combining of these three separate ingredients that the perfect anti-influenza agent was revealed. Even though it was thought by many to be too hazardous to be trialed outside a laboratory setting, I accepted the challenge. Throughout the summer months, I religiously tested this concoction, even knowing the risk was great.

When I survived with minimal ill effects, I expanded my trial, recruiting public spirited individuals who were willing to risk their personal well-being for the greater good of all.

As you can see from these photos of the actual clinical trials, these brave volunteers put the good of mankind ahead of their personal safety, and deserve our gratitude.

Rain over Naruna

2009-08-22T16:16:00.004-05:00

Some days in Naruna are more nearly perfect than others. This Saturday was going pretty good already...the LB had fixed something new for breakfast, an open-faced bacon, egg, onion, & goat cheese sandwich on a piece of nan bread. I got some more painting done on my project room, while the LB made a batch of snack mix which involved cashews, corn chex and homemade caramel sauce. That tired her out and she had headed upstairs to rest her eyes(just for 15 minutes or so) when the sky began to darken, and soon some thunder could be heard. The canine residents and I walked out on the front porch just as the skies opened and huge drops began to fall. It didn't last long, and we only measured 0.2", but it dropped the temperature from 102 to 78 in less than 10 minutes. As quickly as it came, it was gone, the sun came out again and all that was left were some rumbles and clouds headed south out of Naruna.

Birthday Weekend - part 3

2009-08-13T08:13:00.005-05:00

No birthday celebration is complete without dinner at the birthday boy(or girl)'s choice of location. One place we had heard of and read about in San Antonio was The Silo. This is an up-scale, yet casual, spot which has garnered good reviews for both service & food. After spending most of Saturday afternoon napping in the cool of our hotel room, we saddled up and headed over to Austin Highway in search of vittles.

The dining room was smaller than I expected, but was still quiet enough to be able to carry on a conversation without straining to hear. Chicken-fried oysters on a bed of spinach, topped with an obviously homemade Hollandaise started our adventure. Angie went for a grilled tuna steak, while I opted for sauteed redfish on a bed of sauteed shrimp. Susan went off on a different tangent, getting a tasty piece of lamb (I stole a bite). A very nice Pinot Grigio helped wash everything down. None of us had room for dessert on our own, so we did a three-way split of a wonderful "White Chocolate & Fresh Berry Bread Pudding with White Chocolate Truffle Sauce", with an Espresso or coffee accompaniment.

After feasting for the better part of the evening, we felt the need to move around a bit, so headed back downtown to show Angie the Emily Morgan & the view. It turned out she didn't know anything about Emily(I swear the child slept through Texas History), so I was able to expound on the fabled Yellow Rose until she and her mother were both tired of listening. We went out to stretch our legs, strolling the Alamo grounds, and continuing on down to the Riverwalk. Quickly, we learned the masses of people we had encountered on Friday night were far exceeded by the Saturday night rowdies. At 11:00, everything was still in full swing and at full volume. As we struggled through the packed sidewalks, we saw areas which had been quiet and isolated on our last trip years ago, which were now lined with one overflowing drinking establishment after another. Maybe if I was twenty-something and looking for a good time, it would be okay. At 57 and tired of walking, it was just too crowded and too loud.

After ascending back to street level, we wandered past several downtown landmarks, including the Menger Hotel. The bar at the Menger is where Teddy (the good) Roosevelt recruited his Volunteers for a trip to Cuba from the cowboys and adventurers who were found in San Antonio. The Menger lies just across the alley from the Alamo, and this alley is where horse-drawn carriages line up to give visitors a tour of the downtown area. The carriages range from plain to gaudy, but all are adorned with a variety of lights to help make them more visible to automobile traffic. We went for a very pleasant trip with Jimmy(the driver) and Jack(the horse), and the slow trip into the past helped us to settle down and prepare ourselves for the end of our long day.

Saturday - In the Park

2009-08-11T09:11:00.008-05:00

Saturday morning in San Antonio! Our night had not been as restful as hoped, with the alarm clock going off repeatedly at midnite, playing very exciting Mexican music. Why do I never think to check those things before I crawl into bed?

After a quick breakfast, we swung by the youngest child's apartment, and with her in tow, headed to the San Antonio Zoo in Brackenridge Park. Getting there early was part of our plan to miss the hottest part of the day, yet we still managed to enjoy the 100+ temperatures. Lots of renovation and new construction are going on at the zoo, and eventually it will be beautiful, and a better place for the animals. Right now, S.A. is suffering along with the rest of Central Texas as the drought continues...and continues. Everything brown and dry. Even the rhino was hunting a spot of shade & the elephant was enjoying a cool shower. Someday I'll remember that summer is not the best season to visit a zoo, since the animals are just as hot and uncomfortable as the rest of us. Maybe between Christmas and New Year's next time.

We enjoyed visiting the Lorikeets in their aviary, and were able to feed them little cups of nectar while they sat on your shoulder. Unfortunately, what goes in has to come out, and I had one little bird poop in my shirt pocket while perched upon my hat. Fortunately, the L.B. had a ready supply of hand sanitizer to help clean me up. (She really does take care of me.)

Butterflies are pretty and didn't excrete anything on me, so we spent time wandering through their special abode. Rarely still for more than a second or two, pictures tend to be a bit blurry. As the day heated up, our enthusiasm dropped, and soon our thoughts turned to air conditioners and food. Angie knew of a local place which had a wide array of hotdogs & frankfurters. A large glass of cold lemonade made everything right for me.

Happy Birthday to Me!

2009-08-08T09:13:00.006-05:00

As we grow older, and approach what some refer to as "maturity", birthdays are not so much celebrated as greeted with a sense of relief. My father died before he turned 52, so in many ways I view any time I get past that as a "bonus". I have made all the usual promises to myself; spend more time with family, travel to new places, etc. , yet find myself slipping back into spending too much time at work. Not a good way to stay on the good side of the Lovely Bride.

This past week the L.B. announced we were going to San Antonio to celebrate my birthday, and she had already planned everything. She had gotten us out of our duties at church on Sunday and said we were just going to play tourist and take it easy for the weekend. Friday afternoon saw us on the road to S.A. after only a couple of minor misdirections, such as me having to rescue her at the Puppy Motel after her car battery died of a heat stroke.

We arrived in San Antonio with no further difficulties, and she cryptically directed me to our hotel, although she wouldn't tell me the name until she abruptly announced "There it is!" as I cruised past. She had gotten a room at the Emily Morgan Hotel, named after the famous "Yellow Rose of Texas", who supposedly distracted General Santa Ana at the battle of San Jacinto, allowing the Texicans to route the Mexican troops. Our room overlooked the grounds of the Alamo, and had a beautiful view of downtown S.A. The L.B. had connections to the hotel in its previous incarnation as the Medical Arts Building and used to go there for doctor appointments. The San Antonio Express-News building, where her Daddy used to work, was just one block down from the hotel, so it was like a homecoming for her.

Friday night we were tired out, and so just went strolling around the Alamo about dusk. Thinking it might be cooler down near the river, we took the stairs and headed down along the riverwalk. Lots of people made walking difficult and blocked what little breeze was moving, so we picked a restaurant, La Paloma, and managed to snag a table on the river's edge. A couple of really good margaritas helped us relax a bit and start to cool off. As we waited for dinner, we engaged in one of our favorite pastimes, people watching.

Hot plates arrived, bringing wonderful smells with them. We quickly dove in to our first, but not last, Tex-Mex fix of the weekend. Steak Tampiqueno, carne asada, and chicken enchiladas con poblanos were surrounded by the usual rice and beans. Guacamole, chips and salsa rounded out the fare.

With food out of the way, we sat and sipped our drinks while watching the crowds. We kept thinking that the riverwalk was certainly packed, and wondered if there were some convention or special event taking place. We finally managed to stand erect and waddled off toward our room. Alamo Plaza was much quieter, and the Emily Morgan loomed over the historic shrine in the moonlight. Once away from the crowds of the Riverwalk, it began to feel like we really had come home.

Dave's little project

2009-08-02T19:49:00.006-05:00

Inertia can be a powerful force to overcome. Little nudges are sometimes needed to start things in motion. For some of us, large explosive charges are required to get us moving. My Lovely Bride recently provided just such a gentle nudge.

She decided that the old, faded, nasty carpet which has survived numerous children and pets for more than twenty years had to go. Now. This came about when our second child's husband came home from Iraq, and embarked on a total redo of their house, including replacing all the flooring with tile & wood laminate. Then there was a minor water problem which forced them to rip it all out and do it again. http://blogger-betsy.blogspot.com/2009/06/floor-is-done-again-sigh.html The LB thought it looked good, and since her son-in-law had all that on the job experience, she wanted to put in wood finish laminate throughout the downstairs. All I had to do was pay the bills.

As the start of this project drew near, I decided there was one I needed to take care of. There is a small unfinished room just off the living room which the previous owners used to store firewood. (Yeah, inside the house!) I always thought it would make a nice little office space for me, but it has been too convenient a spot to store junk over the eleven years we have lived here. Plus there is that pesky inertia thing. The short version is that I decided to clean it out and finish it before the new floor goes in.

The photos here are of the current stage. I couldn't bring myself to take pictures of it before I started...think bare plywood walls, particle board sub floor, and stuff stacked 1/2 way up the walls. Just emptying it out made me feel better, and now there is visible progress with sheet rock in place. Next is paint, and I will try to keep up with some more fotos.

Think She Loves Me?

2009-08-01T15:54:00.006-05:00

There are times when we wonder how our spouses feel toward us. At other moments, there is no doubt at all of their feelings, good or bad.

Friday afternoon I arrived home from work a bit early, and so had a chance to sit and visit with my Lovely Bride while I unwound from the long week. Soon she disappeared into the kitchen, and I began to smell wonderful smells escaping into the living room. Garlic and basil were two which I could identify, and there were a host of others. I managed to control my curiosity until I was summoned, and discovered her idea of a quick meal.

Linguine formed the foundation of this dish, topped with a homemade-from-scratch alfredo sauce. Arranged artistically atop this mound of pasta perfection was a small school of sauteed shrimps which she had gotten from her "Shrimp Guy" who makes periodic runs to the Texas Gulf coast so his friends don't have to eat store-bought shrimp. Pesto was splashed freely over the shrimp, just in case further encouragement was needed.

Alongside, she had tossed together a beautiful salad with fresh strawberries, slivered almonds and feta cheese with the delicate greens. It was completed with just a quick splash of a vinaigrette dressing. All this was washed down with a glass of ice cold sweet tea. I know a meal such as this usually calls for more exotic beverages, such as a good sangiovese or a vernacchia, but I have discovered that the more wine I drink, the less I remember! Perhaps that is why much of our vacation last summer is a bit blurry.

Everything tasted as good as it looked, and even though the LB kept denying it was anything special, it certainly settled in my mind how she feels about me. No doubt!

A Little Relief

2009-07-28T21:42:00.003-05:00

Central Texas has been setting new records for the number of days over 100 degrees. Depending exactly on where you happen to be, this is somewhere on the high side of 41 days, and there is no end in sight. Naruna is a couple of days ahead of Austin I think, but it is hard to keep track when the temperature routinely hits anywhere from 101 to 111 every day.

This kind of record is not something to which I aspire. I was never the competitive type, and I would just as soon someone else be leading in this category. Nobody tries to fry eggs on sidewalks here like they do in New York when they have a warm day. Hot, dry weather is not something we like to joke about much. At least until after the floods have come and the drought has been pushed back for awhile.

Today was not the end of our drought by any means. But we were pleasantly surprised this afternoon when it began raining in Naruna. It only lasted about 15 minutes, and the sun never stopped shining. It stopped as suddenly as it started, and then it was hot and steamy rather than hot & dry. The surprise came when the LB went out to check how much we received...instead of the expected tenth or so in the rain gauge, we had 1.7". Not enough, but still very welcome...especially since it was not accompanied by any hail, high wind or tornados.

"We're here to help you."

2009-07-25T22:27:00.004-05:00

Anyone who has spent time in the military knows that when someone utters the phrase, "We're here to help you", it means the IG has come to town to see what's hidden under all the rocks. It is understood they don't really mean what they say...after all, their job is to find things that can be blamed on the local commander and his staff. And they will find something.

In the world of civilian medicine, the counterpart of the IG is The Joint Commission. This is a private organization which has attained near mythic powers over the decades of its existence. Without its blessing and the small wall plaque which comes with successfully completing a survey, hospitals are severely limited in participation in Medicare and other government programs. Every three years, a small group appears without warning and throws the hospital into panic. Every aspect of the care provided to patients is scrutinized and compared against both TJC's constantly changing standards and the hospital's own policies and procedures.

Last week was our turn, with three surveyors appearing one morning at our front door. One was focused strictly on the physical structure and whether it was safe for patients and staff. One dedicated three days to looking at the Home Health and Hospice which are associated with the hospital. And the third was a nursing surveyor who was interested in everything. She wandered from the Emergency Room, through Radiology, to inpatient nursing areas. She talked with staff members, questioning how they took care of their patients. Documentation of that care was reviewed to see if it matched the staff's explanations as well as the hospital's policies and procedures. Patients were interviewed to find out what they knew about their own care and what was being planned for them. Personnel files were pulled to see if staff had documentation that they were competent to take care of the patients assigned to them.

Finally, she arrived at the most important part of the entire survey...the Operating Room! Okay, so maybe I'm slightly biased since it's mine, but it is still one of the core areas which incorporates all aspects of caring for the patient. How do you know your surgical instruments are really sterile? Do medications get labelled as they are placed on the sterile field? How are implants tracked? Are surgical sites always marked preoperatively by the surgeon to verify it is correct? What is the process for identifying your patient and the surgery to be performed? In the Recovery Room, how is pain assessed, and how is it documented? Throughout the surgical experience, is the patient's medical information kept safe and private? All these topics and more were raised, discussed and responses evaluated.

After three days of walking on eggshells, it was finally over. We survived as a hospital, once again making it through with no major problems. Of course, they did find some things, since that is their job. These opportunities for improvement will be studied, plans of correction drawn up and implemented, results evaluated and forwarded to the Joint. After a week or two of relaxing and recuperating, the cycle begins all over again. The job of making sure our patients are safe never ends. Three years isn't very long when you are preparing for your next survey.

Did I mention that we get to pay for the privilege of being examined by The Joint Commission?

On-Line Again

2009-07-25T21:48:00.002-05:00

One of the joys of living in a rural paradise is getting away from all the many ills and problems associated with our modern society. Unfortunately, you also are far from all the modern conveniences urban dwellers take for granted.

Almost three weeks ago, my Lovely Bride was trying to connect to the Internet using our usual dial up connection. She was unable to get past a chronically "busy" message, and told me I needed to call and investigate. After quietly checking to make sure I had remembered to pay the bill, I gave the ISP a call. The short version of their tale was that the company they had obtained access to most of the smaller hill country towns through had suddenly, and without any warning, gone out of business and no replacement was available.

A few calls and a check of the local yellow pages revealed few options for Internet service in our neck of the woods. The only way to have any sort of broadband access out where we reside is via satellite. Several neighbors reported having good luck with WildBlue, and so a visit was made to their local installer to review what would be needed to get connected to the rest of the world once again. Equipment was ordered and after a week, a couple of "professional installers" appeared and got us hooked up. If you are interested in how professional these installers were, you need to visit with the L.B.. I'm not sure she was terribly impressed, but everything seems to work okay. Not the fastest connection I've used, but a lot faster than our old dial up.

We managed to keep our old email address, so nobody has to learn anything new or make any changes to address books. It's good to be back.

Independence Day

2009-07-04T14:55:00.006-05:00

Happy Independence Day!

I had a rare weekday off yesterday, and the Lovely Bride & I meandered into Austin and watched the latest Star Trek movie. She is not a Trekkie(or any kind of S-F fan), and even she liked it. It was in the form of a "prequel", revealing events which led up to the original tv series, and did a fair job of illustrating how some of the crew relationships began and developed. After the show, it was off to a little hole-in-the-wall Vietnamese place for some really good noodles and such. I miss not having such things close by, but would still rather live in Naruna.

We have no plans for the actual 4th, but are just trying to not melt down. 105 at mid-afternoon, and I'm just waiting for a little shade to get on the, still new, above ground pool before I go float the afternoon away. Maybe a couple of cold Peroni bieres will help with fluid & electrolyte replacement.

My only semi-productive activity this holiday weekend is reading a new book. To those who know me , that hardly qualifies as startling news, but this is a little different from the usual novels I lose myself in. The book is by Giles Tremlett, "Ghosts of Spain", and is about the Civil War, its aftermath and its effects on current Spanish life and politics. In particular, he looks at the "pacto del olvido" or "pact of the forgetfulness" which existed throughout the reign of Franco and has only begun to crumble thirty years after El Caudillo's death. Not an easy read, but worth it in the long run, I hope.

What do they really think?

2009-06-23T08:51:00.009-05:00

Have you ever wondered what people really think of you? I mean, everybody is nice to you, but what are their deep, dark thoughts when it comes to how they really feel? I recently had a chance to take a closer look when I received an email quiz. It only posed one question, "If you saw ME in a police car what would you think I got arrested for?" Of course, there was more to the email; such as admonitions to forward it to all your friends within 3.5 seconds or suffer a fate worse than death, etc. I ignored the warnings and gypsy curses, but decided to send the question to some friends and family members who have known me for quite some time to see what they came up with.

I picked out a few of the responses which were suitable for mixed company and wanted to share.
The first response came from one of my oldest friends. We ran together back in college and he was the best man in my one and only wedding. We have maintained contact over the years, but only get together every year or two. "Public Intoxication since it is an easy charge to bring. I am just remembering the old days." I'm glad Larry is able to remember the good old days, because I think I drowned more than a few brain cells back when we would skip afternoon classes and drink our lunch up on Lake Somerville. Unfortunately, my capacity for alcohol is now greatly diminished, and if I exceed my one margarita limit, I just go to sleep.

One of my sisters gave a very succinct analysis of how exciting she thinks my life is with her reply. "Sleepwalking." I wish! But even in Naruna, there is never enough sack time.

A co-worker I have worked with every day for the past 14 years gave one of the more unsettling answers, "embezzlement!!!!!!!!" What is there to embezzle?

Our middle child, who always was accused of being the Daddy's Girl while growing up, offered an interesting thought. "Poss Marijane, we always suspected you might have been a hippie back in the day. Maybe ‘cause of the long hair and mellow attitude…" Sad to say, the hair isn't nearly as long(or thick) and the mellow attitude has more to do with all the children being out from under foot.

My Lovely Bride gave an answer that shows how trusting she is and how much she loves me. "What?? Is this a trick question? My first instinct would be that you were an innocent by-stander to a crime, and were being taken in for questioning." After more than 34 years of marriage, she still thinks I can do no wrong! What a woman!

Mea Culpa

2009-06-17T14:01:00.006-05:00

Why is it that every time I vow to be more timely in my postings, I fail miserably and fall farther and farther behind?

The Lovely Bride's little garden is flourishing and little green tomatos and tiny okra are beginning to grow. The basil of varying types makes me dream of Italian cooking every time I brush past, and I'm already thinking of expanding her space soon. So long as we remember to give it a drink occasionally, everything stays happy & green.

We just returned from a week at Lake of the Ozarks with family. One daughter and son-in-law gave us a ride up, and all we had to do was share the cost of gas. Did I mention they hauled their 28 foot boat from Texas to Missouri? Even though the gas mileage suffered, it was well worth the trouble. They had the freedom to blast around the lake when the mood struck them, drop in on little lakefront restaurants, and laze around quiet sheltered coves while their nieces practiced their swimming skills.

The oldest daughter and her hubby came with the three Grand Girls in tow. The oldest, Sarah, certainly showed an affinity for the water and spent every moment she could in one boat or the other. When she wasn't swimming or boating, she was buttering up her Uncle Steven in hopes he would take her out again. Amazing how good they can be when they want something!

The twins are just past 2, full of energy, and masters at getting into trouble. We were preparing for bed our first night after 14 hours on the road, when wails echoed from the little girls' room. Ellie managed to fall(tripped, pushed,??) and tried to break the frame of the sofa bed with her head. Lots of blood and tears, so off to the ER we go. Fortunately, it was a slow night, and she was seen immediately. Less than an hour saw her evaluated, get a CT of her head, and then have her forehead stuck back together using some industrial strength superglue. Home and to bed by 1:00am.

Dirty fingernails

2009-06-02T17:37:00.005-05:00

Another happening in Naruna during the past month was the LB deciding she wanted a small garden. I think she got tired of listening to me grumble about eating store-bought tomatoes; plus she was wanting some more space for her herbs. She had seen several articles about using elevated beds for growing vegetables and herbs in a small space. Most of these use landscape timbers to enclose an area which is then filled with a mix of dirt, compost and fertilizer, but she had the idea of using concrete blocks. One of the advantages of this is she can plant her herbs in the holes of the blocks, keeping them separated, and allowing her to water each only when needed. Now we just have to wait and see what grows.

Did you miss me?

2009-06-01T21:46:00.020-05:00

The past couple of weeks have been pretty rough around Naruna. The Lovely Bride has been trying to prepare for the end of the school year, while training her new puppy and her old husband. The OR has been busy, especially with orthopedics, and late nights have become the norm, as we try to fix or replace broken/worn out hips and knees. Of course, not getting home until 8:00 or 9:00 several nights each week has taken its toll on my old body and the LB's nerves. At any rate, I didn't realize how long it had been since I last posted anything until an email arrived from cousin Vicki, wondering what had happened to me. This will be my feeble and belated attempt to make up for my absence of the past weeks.

One wonderful event during the month of May was droplets of moisture falling from the sky. Naruna received almost 2 1/2" for the month, which was enough for Burnet County to call off their burn ban. Vegetation has greened up, and the yard sprang up almost overnight. It finally got to the point where I got out the old push mower and knocked down most of the weeds. It took me a day and a half to accomplish what our lawn guy, Paul, does in an hour. My knees were certainly protesting after that little workout. Paul is usually pretty good about keeping the grass(okay - weeds) cut, but the rain had all of his clients hollering for help. It certainly reminded me of why we pay him to take care of it.

We have had a major influx of critters here in Naruna, with a new puppy and a litter of kittens all showing up at about the same time. The puppy is a scruffy little dog, reported to be some sort of chihuahua, and is named Ruby Jean. She arrived with floppy ears and longish hair, and really didn't look like any chihuahua I had ever seen. She is one of those animals you want to pick up as soon as you see it, cuddle it and carry it around everywhere. The LB keeps reminding me it is a dog, and even though it is small, it needs to learn to act like one instead of a toy. Susan keeps trying to establish herself as the Alpha of our pack, so she can maintain some discipline as she attempts to train the little bugger. I see my role as being the one who is responsible for spoiling her rotten. As she has grown(almost 4 pounds now) her ears have straightened up, and are completely upright. Still doesn't look much like a chihuahua to me.

The litter of kittens has been a more emotional event for us. As is frequently the case, this was an unplanned pregnancy, and took us by surprise. Apparently, the feline gene pool isn't very deep in Naruna, which is one reason for trying to get everybody fixed if it looks like they are going to stay with us. Of four kittens, one didn't survive its first day, a second with a deformed leg suddenly expired after about a week, and the little grey tabby hasn't figured out how to use its hind legs and has a definite personality disorder. Not sure if it will make the cut or not. The remaining kitten is the antithesis of his siblings. He is stout, fuzzy and very precocious in learning to motor around under his own power. He is white and has blue eyes which are bright and sparkly. The LB already seems to be struggling with the idea of giving him up for adoption, so we may just add him to the permanent cat population of Naruna.

Oh yeah...and cats, we need lots more cats, too!

2009-05-03T15:52:00.006-05:00

Talk about your cup overflowing! Acquiring a new puppy a week ago wasn't enough for Naruna. Last night one of the cats had kittens. This was a cute little kitten who appeared asleep on our front porch swing one day, and proceeded to make herself completely at home. She had a collar, and was obviously used to being around people, so for the first few weeks I held onto hopes that an owner would appear and take her home. Of course, no one showed up and Bella just moved in.

When we returned from visiting the grandkids a month ago, we noticed that Bella didn't seem any worse off for being home alone for a week, and even seemed to have gained some weight. You guessed it! The little hussy had gotten herself knocked up. We never saw a strange cat around the place, and had no idea who was involved, so didn't know what to expect before the kittens arrived.

Best I can tell, there are four kittens; one grey tabby, two which appear white, and one which looks to be a light yellow or gold color. If you look at the first picture, you can see Bella, like most expectant kitties, didn't use the elaborately padded box the LB fixed up for her delivery. Instead, she decided that the bed in the garage apartment would be more to her liking. Please note, she and the kittens are inside the box springs, not just under the bed.

Settling In!

2009-05-02T12:35:00.007-05:00

The new Naruna puppy, Ruby Jean the scruffy Chihuahua, has made herself right at home. She has also turned the tables on Sam, who tormented and annoyed our elderly Lab, Rosie, for the last couple of years. I'm not sure Sam appreciates being on the receiving end.

Yes dear, that's just what we need...another Dog!

2009-04-25T14:50:00.008-05:00

When it comes time for the Father's Day Report Card on which your children evaluate your parenting skills, I have trouble getting a passing score. For some reason they have always thought I was a terrible poppa, perhaps because my initial response to most requests was always "NO!". It didn't matter that I carefully considered and pondered their pleas, and could always give them a logical rationale ('Cause I said so; or, I'm the Daddy - that's why!). This was especially true when they asked about bringing pets home.

Of course, I was always completely fair and impartial in my decisions. For instance, I agreed when they asked about bringing home several young rabbits they had been offered. When they looked at me suspiciously and asked why I said yes, I described in detail how yummy & tender little rabbits could be when properly stewed or fricasseed. Or when a newborn goat was offered by a neighbor, I immediately volunteered the name of "Cabrito". These tactics worked well until the kids got a little older and eventually saw through my smokescreen. They learned the Daddy would be gruff and growl about taking animals into our home, but if they could ever slip them inside and get me to pick them up and cuddle them, I would melt and they could have whatever they wanted.

None learned this lesson better than my Lovely Bride, who surprised me with numerous critters over the years. Yesterday afternoon she struck again. We had been relatively stable with a Yellow Lab, a Beagle, and four cats, one of which is expecting. I was still at work when she called to announce she was at the back door, and would I come and let her in, please. I opened the door to find her holding a tiny ball of black and tan wearing a blue bandanna. She sat it down in the grass, and revealed the tiniest puppy imaginable. A 2 month old chihuahua, it was the product of a short haired mother and a long haired father, so nobody is sure what it will look like when grown. She just looks scruffy for now.

The LB got her home without mishap, and began the process of introducing the little interloper to the other residents of Naruna. The cats ignored her for the most part, while the dogs acted more interested, but not totally convinced. It made for an awkward evening and all finally fell asleep.

This morning I arose early in response to persistent crying and whining, which the LB managed to sleep through. All three puppies and I were out in the back forty as the sun started to peep over the mesquite trees on the horizon, and all the tentativeness of the previous night was gone. The baby romped along after the big guys, exploring her new world. They both seemed to accept that she was now a part of their lives, and tried to adjust as best they could. The Lab has only stepped on her a couple of times and the baby is learning to be careful. She has been stealing their toys, napping hidden in piles of dirty clothes, and generally being under foot all day.

The big question today has become what to call the little rascal. So far, several names have been proposed. Lola, Ruby, & Dory are all being considered, although I'm kinda partial to "dawg".

Monday evening: Her name is Ruby Jean!

Getting our Grandkid fix

2009-04-08T17:06:00.004-05:00

Well, we arrived in the Land of Lincoln, even though it seemed to take forever. Got away late for a variety of reasons, and ended up spending our first night in Ardmore, Oklahoma. As far as Oklahoma goes, it wasn't a bad spot, but I had really wanted to be farther along when we stopped. We had to stop for a late breakfast at a Waffle House(It's a family thing) in Norman, and didn't make it to Peoria until around 10pm.

Once we arrived, the grand party was on. It seemed that every kid and parent had a drippy nose or nasty sounding cough. By Tuesday, Boppa had come down with the crud, and didn't get out of the house on Wednesday. Nonna was dispatched to the local Wally World for a variety-pack of drugs to stave off the worst of the symptoms(She really does take care of me).

Too quickly, it is time to start for home. Tomorrow we embark on our return journey, trying to find a new and different route across middle America.

Anticipation

2009-04-03T08:39:00.002-05:00

The LB and I are almost ready to hit the road and head off to see the grand girls up in Peoria. We are tidying up things at work today and will get away sometime this afternoon. The bad news is that it is a two day drive for us old folks and that is a long time to wait to see those cute little girls. The good news is this gives us two days of being together, free from interruptions, and able to catch up on all that subtle emotional stuff that sometimes gets bypassed in the day-to-day bustle of working.
Our plan is pretty simple...get to Peoria the quickest way possible. Fortunately, there are a number of options which let us see different scenery while still making good time. Our first milestone is getting out of Texas. For those who are used to some of the miniscule northeastern states(they would be called counties here) this may not sound like much. However, we live close to the center of Texas, and it is a 5 hour run to the border at Interstate speeds. After that, we set out across the Red River and plunge into foreign lands. Where we stop...who knows!?!

Nonna's New Ride

2009-03-15T20:30:00.006-05:00

A couple of months ago, the LB decided she needed a bicycle to cruise the country roads. She tried to convince me it would be for the purpose of getting some fresh air & exercise, but I knew it was really some psychological attempt to recapture her youth or such. She found the fat-tired cruiser-style bike she wanted and I dutifully packed it home. All was fine until I went to air up the tires, which both immediately blew out. She seemed to think I was just getting old and didn't remember how to do it properly. New tubes were installed this afternoon and she set off on a trial run through downtown Naruna, accompanied by Sam, the flying beagle. I guess they are right about never forgetting how to ride.

New Place to Eat

2009-03-14T16:21:00.005-05:00

Anyone who has read my blog, knows that food in all its forms is important to me. Trips away from Naruna, no matter their original purpose, are usually combined with dining out. Vacations become gastronomic adventures as my Lovely Bride and I search out the new and different whether it's in Italy or at the State Fair in Dallas. Unfortunately, those pesky jobs which allow us to afford the occasional trip, also keep us close to home most of the time.

That being the case, anytime a new eating establishment opens in one of the small villages near Naruna, we are quick to try them out. On Friday the 13th, a new place opened its doors in Burnet, and I was there to see what they had to offer. It turned out to be a Cajun place which was still trying to get everything they needed to operate as a restaurant, with coolers being delivered while I was waiting for my order. Its name is "A Lil Taste of - The Real New Orleans Style Restaurant - Where Cajun meets Country", and it is aiming to be more takeout than dine-in. It is run by a group of folks who also started up "The Real New Orleans Style Restaurant" in Round Mountain, Texas not long after Hurricane Katrina.

I took home a quart of seafood gumbo and an order of fried chicken to try out with the LB. The gumbo was richly flavored, and full of shrimp, sausage and ham, with a subtle spicy bite which crept up on me gradually. The fried chicken was to die for...spicy, juicy, crispy all at once. I really should have taken a photo of the chicken since it was so beautiful, but after driving home to Naruna smelling the intoxicating aroma, I barely waited for a plate before digging in.

PET PEEVE ALERT!! One of the great tragedies of our society has been the disappearance of fried chicken from menus. It has been replaced by chicken "tenders" or "strips" or even "chicken fried chicken", none of which have much to do with real chickens, especially flavor. When was the last time you got fried chicken in a restaurant where they actually started with a real chicken?

If you have only heard bad things of the "refugees" fleeing the destruction in New Orleans, this group of restauranteurs can show you the other side. They are a church family who decided to leave as a group from New Orleans the day before the mandatory evacuation was ordered. They were staying in East Texas, when they were again displaced by another hurricane, Rita. They kept moving from shelter to shelter, trying to stay together, until they arrived in Marble Falls in southern Burnet county. After seeing how the rebuilding of New Orleans was going, and looking at what was available to them in the Texas Hill Country, they decided to stay in Burnet County and have become valued members of the community. http://www.smokingforjesusministry.org/index.html

I sat and watched the interactions of the staff as I waited for my order to be ready. People wandered in and out, all in a state of excitement about the new restaurant, and the staff had a smile and a welcome for all. The waitress who took my order and also the cook both kept me updated on how much longer my order would be. When it was ready and I started to leave, the waitress apologized again for my order taking so long. I turned back and told her, "There are a lot of places I can go if I was looking for speed, but that's not what I'm interested in." She broke out in a big grin and wished me a great evening.

Burn Baby Burn!

2009-03-14T12:49:00.005-05:00

One of the many challenges of living in the remote paradise which is Naruna is trash disposal. Residents of large metropolitan centers, such as Burnet or Lampasas, can just call some city department and ask for large item pickup, and their discarded appliances or tree limbs will magically disappear from curbside. Those who choose to put a little elbow room between themselves and their neighbors must be more personally involved getting rid of their refuse. Usually this means piling up any burnable trash including brush and tree limbs to be burned when conditions are right.

With the bountiful rain this week, the county called off its burn ban for awhile. In years past, I've learned the ban may be in place again as soon as the sun starts to shine, so I jumped at the opportunity to get rid of our burn pile. It has been growing for almost a year, and one of the last additions was our tree from Christmas. Of course, there are some problems with starting a fire when all the fuel is completely saturated after three or four days of rain. Trying to burn soggy brush sometimes causes otherwise normal people to do stupid things involving gasoline, diesel or kerosene. After taking care of some of these unfortunates in my operating room, a solution appeared last year. I purchased a brush burner which just connects to a twenty pound propane tank, allowing me to burn anything which will stand still and get my exercise while chasing those which won't. No flammable liquids involved and the LB is much happier.

Of course, any outdoor activity is more enjoyable with some company. In the first photo, you can see Sam and Rosie helping by checking the perimeter as I begin to light the fire. Even though their attention tends to wander when food is not involved, they still check in whenever I go back out to see how the burn is progressing. After all, they don't want to be left out of anything. The second photo illustrates why there are so many warnings about real Christmas trees, as our thoroughly soaked one almost exploded when the flames reached it.

As I finish writing, the bonfire has been reduced to smoldering hunks which will take some time to be completely consumed. Yet, even now, I am looking up at dead limbs and thinking that, tomorrow...the pile starts growing again.

Rain at Last

2009-03-13T21:17:00.005-05:00

Naruna and Central Texas have been in a serious drought situation for over 18 months. The last time we saw any significant amount of precipitation was spring of 2007, when Marble Falls received 19 inches of rain one night. At the same time they were being washed away, Naruna got 3 1/2 inches. That was our last rainfall which amounted to much, and we have been under a Burn Ban for most of the past three years because of the critically dry conditions.

A fortuitous collision of several weather fronts over Texas this week brought some extremely appreciated moisture to Naruna. In the past 48 hours, a little over 5 inches of rain has fallen. Trees are budding, sprigs of grass are pushing up through the mud, and everything is wonderously damp and drippy. At the beginning of this week, we were setting records for high temperatures in the upper 80's and lower 90's, and now it is cool and comfortable, and a fire in the fireplace has been welcome the last couple of nights.

It's About Time

2009-03-08T21:28:00.009-05:00

My Lovely Bride and I have been keeping company for going on thirty five years, during which time we have lived in four different states with twelve or thirteen different addresses. We purchased homes together, had three children, 5 or 6 dogs and more cats than I can remember. We nursed each other through some pretty serious times and continued to put up with each other through all these years. With all this in mind, I recently decided to do the "right thing" and make an honest woman of her.

Now before everyone gets too excited, I'll try to explain. We took care of the legal details over thirty-three years ago in San Antonio, so all the cats, dogs, and kids are, what used to be referred to as, "legitimate". That's not a term that gets used much anymore and there are a bunch of people out there who obviously don't understand the definition or application of the word...but that needs to be another posting. Our wedding was wonderful, everybody had a great time and there are even a few who are able to remember some of the proceedings. Papa Wally was footing the bill for the rehearsal dinner, and wanted everybody to have a good time, so the bar never closed.

The one minor detail which somehow got overlooked during all that joining together involved wedding rings. Most of you probably realize that weddings and such are the domain of women. Men are involved only peripherally, and then only grudgingly. Wedding bands were selected by the blushing bride-to-be and her mother, and my contribution was to pay for her ring. With all the excitement and hangovers surrounding the big event, the LB went ahead and paid for the rings when she picked them up and never bothered to ask me for my share.

Fast forward twenty years or so, we retired from the Army, moved to the Texas Hill Country, and she managed to lose her self-purchased wedding ring. There was an interesting story around its loss, and a thorough search was made, but bottom-line is the ring went away, never to return. Another 12 years slipped by with the LB ringless, before I began to feel pangs of guilt. After all, I had never bought the woman a wedding ring! So on the recent Hallmark Holiday known as Valentines Day, we moseyed down to the mall, visited 5 or 6 jewelery stores and tried on a multitude of rings before deciding on the perfect one. Of course, it wasn't available in her size, so a special order was put in and within a month the ring arrived. Another trip to Austin secured the long awaited band, and saw it on the LB's finger where it really did look perfect. And it only took me thirty-three years.

Everybody Doing Fine!

2009-02-28T14:08:00.003-06:00

Around the middle of January, I wrote about two of the residents of Naruna who were in the process of recuperating. The Lovely Bride had a skin cancer whittled off the side of her nose and Oliver, the whiny cat, had skinned his nose trying to get out of a live trap. As the first picture shows, they were fine back then, just with funny looking noses.

They are now pretty much back to normal, although Oliver's nose will probably never look the same.

The second photo shows them this afternoon, enjoying a sunny Texas winter day by resting their eyes...for just fifteen minutes or so. Just another lazy day in Naruna.

Gun Show

2009-02-23T20:20:00.008-06:00

Sunday afternoon the son-in-law and I headed into town for a little "guy-time". He is still recuperating from repairs to his collar bone following a minor motorcycle mishap, and has been limited a bit in getting out and about. A gun show in north Austin was our recreational goal.

Gun shows are self-justifying events. Just as no woman needs a reason to go shopping at Neiman-Marcus, men are always ready to wander up and down the rows of crowded tables. We visit firearms exhibits to breathe in the heady aroma of gun oil and solvent...emerging revitalized and refreshed after marinating in this gunpowder and testosterone rich environment.

Although no excuse is necessary, we did have some rather vague goals for our visit. I was wanting to look over the selection of Russian made rifles, including some of the AK variants as well as the civilian rifles now becoming available. After spending the last year in Iraq, the son-in-law was to be my subject matter expert. At the same time, he was wanting to evaluate some of the newer 9mm pistols as possible replacement carry pieces.

Sadly, although we were able to find what we were looking for, we emerged empty handed at the end of the day. We fell victim to our own need to go into this wholesale free-for-all armed with as much information as we could. The guns were there, and finding interesting ones was not difficult. However, when we began checking prices, it was painfully obvious that the heyday of the Great American Gun Show has faded. Weapons were generally marked up 50% - 100% over prices available on-line. One table had stock Saiga rifles(about $400 online) marked at $1,395.00, and wouldn't budge a cent. Heavily used SKS rifles were marked, but not selling, at around $350, rather than the approximate $150 found online. If you didn't mind scouring off layers of Cosmoline, you could get an SKS for just under $300...but you couldn't tell what the condition was under the congealed grease. If you just didn't have any idea of prevailing prices, you could have spent a lot of money and walked out with some "treasure".

We fared somewhat better while looking at pistols. Most of these were new, and pricing was pretty consistent from vendor to vendor. After an hour of hefting black handguns, they all began to look and feel alike. Sensory overload kicked in, and energy levels began to wane. What was a little surprising, was we both ended up gravitating toward the same couple of pistols, with the new Beretta PX4 Storm emerging as our mutual favorite. Now all we need is an extra 6 or 700 dollars each and our wives in a generous mood.

After getting home, I kept pondering how different this gun show was from past events I had attended. At shows in Houston or San Antonio in the 70's and 80's, the atmosphere was more of a group of guys getting together to spend time together, swap stories, and maybe sell something to pay for the table rental. Family groups were common, and while there was plenty of junk being offered, there were always those unexpected bargains if you looked hard enough.

Yesterday, there was an almost frantic feel, as shoppers rushed about looking for something they could afford. It felt a lot like last minute shopping on Christmas Eve. Gun magazines and conservative media have been loudly warning about the expected coming crackdown on gun rights under the new Democratic regime. Shooters have been told to stock up and get ready for the coming political, economic, and social turmoil which is going to overtake our country at any moment! It seems another casualty of our country's political battles is the gun show as we knew it.

Walking to Emmaus

2009-02-07T10:45:00.007-06:00

How do you describe an awakening? Do your eyes pop open and the world is abruptly revealed in all its glory? Or is it a slow process by which we discover those small and beautiful pieces which go together to make up our world? My recent Walk to Emmaus was closer to the latter.
I won’t try to give all the details of an Emmaus Walk. A Walk is something which needs to be experienced, not described. Rather, I will make an effort to express some of my responses. Briefly, a Walk is a very organized and focused activity which gives participants the opportunity and structure to evaluate their relationship with God, to interact with others doing the same, and to explore ways of being a better disciple.
Distractions are minimized, with watches and cell phones disappearing on arrival. Walks are segregated by gender. The needs of participants are met by a massive outside support team which takes care of meals, housekeeping, and even cheerleading when necessary. One of many surprises of the weekend was how many people turned out for different functions, even though they didn’t know any of the participants personally.
The variety of participants was something of a surprise to me. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but there was a tremendous variety of people there. Retirees, businessmen, ranchers, police officers, teachers, medical types, construction workers, and a few unemployed were just a sampling. Baptists, Methodists, Catholics, and some that defied easy categorization. Ages ranged from early twenties to the eighties. Blue collar, white collar, no collar. It was really not a homogeneous group…the only things we had in common being our beliefs and a desire to explore them.
How do you get a group of grown men who don’t know each other to open up about their thoughts and beliefs and values? Talks, study, group discussions, and doing everything together quickly broke down some barriers. We worshipped together, lived together, meditated together, and broke bread together literally and figuratively. One of the greatest sources of joy to me during this time, was getting to sing together. If you don’t get goose bumps when you are with fifty men singing Blessed Assurance or How Great Thou Art at the top of their lungs and you know they mean every word, you never will. Over and over, I would get choked up as we sang old hymns I knew by heart, and new praise hymns I had never heard before. It has been a long time since I have heard such joy expressed in song.
I’ve been home for almost a week now, and I am still trying to sort out the personal effects of my Walk. Some things are clearer now, and some priorities have been rearranged. One thing I am certain of, if you are offered the opportunity to go on a Walk to Emmaus, cinch up those sandals and go!

Island Comfort Food

2009-02-04T21:06:00.007-06:00

When you're stuck in the middle of landlocked central Texas, and you need an island food fix, what do you do? You improvise, naturally. I went cruising on the net a couple of weeks ago because I had a craving for some coconut syrup like I used to find when I lived on the windward side of Oahu. Not surprisingly, I was able to locate a source...the problem was the shipping was more than the cost of a couple bottles of syrup and some guava jelly. I bit the bullet and put in the order and waited. And waited. It took almost two weeks for the UPS driver to make it to my door, and when he did I tore into the package. My Lovely Bride took pity on me, and tonight she fixed what was a typical Hawaiian breakfast when we lived in paradise. She whipped up some pancakes, fried some thick slices of Spam, and topped it all with a couple of eggs fried over easy. I also had to fix a short stack with some toasted macadamia nuts on top, slathered with plenty of coconut syrup to satisfy my sweet tooth. Now that's what I call a well balanced meal!

The Big Dry

2009-02-03T16:32:00.007-06:00

When foreigners; i.e. anyone not from Texas; think of the Lone Star State they seem to assume the entire place is just one big desert, with occasional dust storms and cacti everywhere. Much of this is due to the movie industry filming "Texas" movies in places such as Utah, Arizona, California, northern Mexico, etc. Anyone who has traveled this state has seen the incredible variety available to visitors and natives alike. Seashores, lush coastal plains, dense pine forests, chains of lakes, rich farmland, mountains, rolling hills, swamps, and impenetrable cedar breaks are only a few of the different ecosystems found between the Red and the Rio Grande. And, of course, there are some areas which really do qualify as desert. Photo Copyright: Edgar Serrano

The problem we are facing now, is that more of the state is becoming desert-like all the time. Much of Texas is facing what is quickly becoming a disastrous drought. There are parts of the state which have survived devastating floods and hurricanes this year, but for Central Texas, this is being reported as the driest year since the early fifties. For the youngsters and those with failing memories, that time was referred to by many as the "Big Dry"; and one Texas author, Elmer Kelton, penned a book describing some of the hardships of the period titled, "The Time it Never Rained". http://www.elmerkelton.net/. Most of the surrounding counties have been under "Burn Bans" since last spring and there is no end in sight.

In our corner of the world, ranchers are already hurting, spending more in feed than their cattle may bring at auction. Water is becoming more of a problem, which was brought home to me recently when I was approached by a neighbor whose well was failing. As at least a temporary measure, he is using water from our well to provide for his cows and calves. Since we moved to Naruna, I have always tried to convince the LB that we didn't really have enough land to keep livestock of our own. Instead, we could vicariously enjoy the local ranchers' animals, without needing to worry about the price of feed, hay and vet bills, or when it would rain next. Now it seems we really must face those concerns alongside our neighbors.

Time for some catching up

2009-02-03T09:40:00.003-06:00

Reading back over the last entry or two, I realize I left a few things hanging and in need of some closure.
1) The LB is almost completely recuperated from her surgery. No bruising and a barely noticeable scar if you know where to look.
2) Oliver, the whiny cat, continues to mend, although he still has a scabby nose.
3) The son-in-law finally got his collar bone put back together, and after a trying time initially with unpleasant reactions to pain meds, he is doing better and anxious to get his bike back together. Of course, I had been waiting for him to get home from Iraq so he could help me work on mine, so who knows when we will both be mobile again. (Some of us never learn...its a guy thing I guess.)

I did something this past week I had never done before. I took off from work and went on a religious retreat over four days. It was a very intense and emotional time for me, and as soon as I am able to sort out my thoughts, I will add an entry here about it.

Some Quiet Time

2009-01-25T12:58:00.009-06:00

It has been a lazy day in Naruna. The sun came out after a rather chilly gray start to the day, and critters have been seeking spots to nap and generally conserve energy and body heat. Rosie grabbed a little patch of sunshine, while Sam & Tizzie cuddled up on the sofa. The LB and I have also been slugs after church, just sitting eating popcorn and watching a movie, "My Dog Skip". It is a real tearjerker at the end and we thoroughly enjoyed it. Tangentially, the movie let me give the LB a little history lesson, which I love doing. Anyone want to sit and discuss the cultural impact of the Spanish Civil War on American society in the second half of the 20th century?

Oliver, the whiny cat, has had a trying week, with the ugly scab on his nose finally falling off. Very pink and still a little raw. Maybe he has learned his lesson. Yeah...right.

Yesterday afternoon, the LB and I visited the Middle Child and her husband. He has been home from Iraq for about a month, and has been getting out and catching up by doing all the things unavailable over there. While doing one of his favorite activities - riding his new motorsickle - he dropped the front wheel in a hole on the edge of the pavement at about 10 mph, flipping the bike(and himself). He landed squarely on his shoulder, fragmenting, comminuting and dislocating the medial portion of his right clavicle. That just means he smashed hell outta the end of his collar bone where it should be attached to his breast bone. Lots of sharp pieces that are not where they are supposed to be. He has had to wait while being referred to the most appropriate orthopedic surgeons specializing in trauma, and then wait some more until a thoracic surgeon would be available to help if needed. Should get fixed this week. Everybody keep praying...for patience as well as healing.

2009-01-22T20:11:00.002-06:00

Don't you just love pulling up your blog and finding that various and sundry individuals have taken the time to leave comments about what you have written!?! It makes you feel like somebody is actually reading what you have laid down, so it must be for a purpose and not just vanity! Or am I just trying to justify my occasional scratching down of self-centered personal tales?

Oliver's questions answered

2009-01-18T14:29:00.005-06:00

Sunday morning brought an answer to what happened to our whiny cat, Oliver. After imagining all sorts of encounters with local critters, the truth came out during my Sunday School class.

Two weeks ago the 132 year old church had a scare when smoke began billowing out of the ducts immediately after the heating system was switched on. Turned out a raccoon was using the attic of the church for a refuge from the cold weather and had succeeded in gnawing through a couple of wires which caused the smoke.

Stanley, a WWII Marine Corps veteran and a member of my class, decided the coon needed to be caught before some real damage occurred. He brought his live trap and set it out behind the church house and baited it with something smelly. Apparently, Oliver couldn't resist the lure of the decaying tidbits, and sprung the trap on himself. Now the goal of a live trap is to capture a critter without inflicting any terminal injuries...all that is required of the animal is to sit down and wait to be released. Oliver is not a patient pussycat and kept trying to butt his way out of the cage, hence the damage to his nose by the time Stanley checked his trap. No wonder he acted so embarrassed...a self-inflicted injury!

Tending the Wounded

2009-01-17T19:14:00.010-06:00

As we get older, there are milestones we come to in our journey through life. This week I came to another one when I had to accompany my Lovely Bride to the dermalogist's office for something called a "Mohs" micrographic procedure to remove a cancer from her face. One of the inherent problems with being blonde, fair of complexion and living in a sun-drenched environment such as Texas, is that skin cancers become a matter of when...not if. She has always had a multitude of adorable and highly interesting freckles, but this was just a spot at the corner of her eye next to her nose which her glasses kept irritating. The process entailed cutting away the visible tumor and examining the edges, or margins, of the mass to see if there was any cancer there. If there was, the knife came back out, more tissue was cut away, and the microscopic examination conducted again. This ensures all the cancer is removed along with the minimum amount of healthy tissue. Once the margins are found to be free of cancer cells, it is just a matter of stitching the patients face back together. One problem with this procedure is the time involved...for the LB it was a little under five hours, and I aged a lot more than that as I waited and held her hand. Two days later, other than some bruising and an itchy incision, there aren't many obvious signs she had anything done.

She decided to stay home from work Friday to rest and recuperate a little. While home, she passed the time by taking some photos of some of her house critters, including one chronically whiny cat named Oliver. Oliver has been with us since birth, and has had an interesting existence which once included a trip to a feline orthopedist for hip surgery after an ill-timed encounter with an over-enthusiastic Labrador puppy.

Saturday, Oliver didn't appear until late in the afternoon. He acted pretty embarrassed, and was sporting a very swollen and bruised nose. Didn't seem to be in much pain, but the question on our minds was what did he get tangled up with? All I can think of is maybe he got himself kicked or stepped on by a cow while roaming through one of the neighboring pastures. What else could give a cat a bloody nose while doing little other damage? Anyone have any ideas, please send them along.

These pictures of Oliver were taken Friday and Saturday afternoons.

The Same Old Thing

2009-01-16T11:54:00.006-06:00

I need to give up on trying to post regularly. I just have fallen back into my routine of getting up before the sun, going to work, and coming home to Naruna sometime around sundown. No trips to exotic locales, no meals at fancy restaurants, and few encounters with out-of-the-ordinary folks whose stories are not protected by federal law. Nothing new. Nothing different. I go to the same job every day and then come home to the same wife every night.

Since I am in this terrible rut, I have to be bored out of my mind, right!?! Wrong! Yesterday there was a high school student, doing a rotation through the Operating Room, who asked me why I was still working in the OR after more than 37 years. The answer which slipped out before I had time to think was, “I can’t imagine doing anything else.” Nothing else gives the same feeling as taking a patient who has a problem, helping fix whatever is wrong, and then sending them home better for having visited us. If you don’t feel like you have made a difference and accomplished something after a day of that, there is no hope for you.

And the wife I come home to every night is the same girl I fell head over heels in love with so many years ago. I still don’t know why she decided to say yes more than a third of a century ago when I clumsily brought up the subject. She stood beside me no matter what came along, traveling around the world, having babies and raising them far from home and family. She took care of them by herself when I ran away on those unaccompanied tours to exotic parts of the globe, and she learned there was nothing she couldn’t do if needed. She balanced family with volunteering and serving others, so that when we retired from the Army, she knew more General officers than I ever met.

No matter what foolish things I tried over the years, she nursed me back to health and some degree of mobility. She continues to experiment on me with exotic recipes, even when worn out from cooking for her kids at school…all 400 of them. Since we first met, we have been able to sit beside each other, read a book or newspaper, never feel the need to say a word, and still feel we have communed and had “quality time” together.

So when I say I am doing the “same old thing” every day, that means a lot.

Cowboy Up!

2008-11-10T15:01:00.009-06:00

I really need to start posting on some sort of regular basis. It has been a month since I last laid down any thoughts for you to pick through. Of course, in a place like Naruna, excitement doesn't come along just every day.

There are the little minor adventures, such as Larry's blue heeler who got caught in a hog snare, and to add insult to the injury got sprayed by a passing skunk. This would not normally have affected the general population of Naruna, except the dog insists on following Larry to church. With the week long Revival Meeting kicking off this past Sunday, every one quickly got their fill of this gimpy, smelly dog. The sad part was that the dog only wanted to be everybody's friend and kept trying to quietly slip up next to the ladies sipping on glasses of cold ice tea and wearing their Sunday-go-to-meeting finery. The poor dog couldn't understand why none of those good church folk wanted to associate with him, a poor sinner. Positively un-Christian!

I guess the big Naruna news is the Revival meeting, or Revival Crusade as it is being advertised. Last year the little Baptist church in Naruna had a four day revival, and everybody had such a great time, it was decided to extend it to a full week this time around. All the ladies of the church keep cooking and feeding sinners and saints alike. There is a gospel singing group, complete with a young lady playing the fiddle, and a high-powered Evangelist imported all the way from Dallas. They keep filling the little 130 year old church, and people are making decisions and being saved! Makes all the getting ready feel worthwhile. I'll try to put up more info as the week progresses.

Saturday night, the LB and I headed for the south end of Burnet county and a fund-raising event for a local organization, the Hill Country Children's Advocacy Center (or HCCAC). This is a group which serves seven counties in the Texas Hill Country as a centralized agency performing forensic exams of abused children. One of the biggest traumas for abused children is having to repeat their story over and over as they pass through the system. HCCAC works to minimize that trauma. Just at a time when economic downturns are causing a surge in child abuse, the center lost a significant grant this year. The Cowboy Up for Kids event is one way the community is trying to make up that deficit. www.hccac.org/howhelp/events_dinner.html

We headed out into the countryside, turned down a dusty road, and arrived at a huge tent amongst the mesquite and scrub oak just as the sun was setting over the hills. A group of musicians, replete with well-worn boots, hats and more than one handlebar moustache, were onstage tuning and warming up. Tables filled with items for a silent auction lined the sides of the tent, and a number of big ticket items were arrayed around the dance floor in readiness for the live auction. A bar, with the obligatory longnecks and margarita machine plus bottles of wine for the more refined in the crowd, was fitted into one corner. An oldtime chuckwagon was parked at the back of the tent, and several wood fires were being tended outside. Closer scrutiny showed numerous large dutch ovens either nestled in the coals or suspended over the flames.

Quickly I secured cold beverages for us, and we began to circulate through the crowd, stopping to exchange greetings with acquaintances, while checking out the auction items. The LB located several interesting things and jotted down her opening bids. I was starting to relax and think I might get out without spending too much money, when she discovered that one of the live auction items was for a miniature donkey party for a dozen of the children at the center. Her only question was, "Can I come to the party, too?" I knew I was doomed. She would not rest (nor let me rest!) until I had secured this prize.

Dinner was the next agenda item, with steaks grilled over the open fire, with sides of potatoes and green beans ladled out of steaming pots. Home made rolls baked in the coals in heavy dutch ovens rounded out the meal (and my belly). Just when we couldn't eat another bite, the cooks brought in dutch ovens full of home made peach cobbler. Wonderfully miserable!

As the live auction got underway, and the first few items sold for less than their stated value, I became hopeful...maybe it wouldn't really cost that much. At last, "our" lot went on the block, and a determined looking fellow from Hamilton, Texas quickly tossed out the first bid. As I looked him over, I couldn't help but wonder if he too had a wife who was a donkey junkie? I waved my program in the air, upping the stakes, wondering how determined he would prove to be. Back and forth we went, trading the lead, until finally...he caved! Ha...ha...ha. I had bested him, and all it cost was...my God, what did it cost!?! I kept repeating my mantra of, "It's for the kids, it's for the kids," as I tried to catch my breath and write out the check.

The Chocolate Mint Explosion

2008-10-12T13:52:00.005-05:00

The LB and our Middle Child decided to repaint what had been the Youngest Child's bedroom. Since she left home over six years ago and hasn't tried to move back yet, they felt it was safe to do some updating, and maybe add a few modern touches to make it over into a serviceable guest room.

In principal this sounded good, but when I was asked to help pick out paint, I knew something was amiss since my choices are always "white" or maybe "off-white". When asked why she needed me, the LB confessed that the salesman told her if she wanted the color she had selected, she had to bring her husband in with her before he would mix it. This aroused my interest to the point where I agreed to tag along.

At the paint display, we found ourselves at opposite ends of the samples. I was in front of the beiges and eggshells, and they went over to the dark side. Quickly, I was over-ruled (like I really thought I would have a vote!) and the decision came down to which flavor of paint they wanted...milk or dark chocolate?

Back in Naruna, furniture was quickly pushed into the center of the room, switchplates and outlet covers removed, and painting clothes put on. The first splashes of dark brown were applied to the mint green the Youngest Child had smeared on the walls while in high school, and after the first feelings of queasiness passed, it looked like nothing so much as a splattering of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Thankfully, the brown went on quickly and before long it was drying and revealing its true milk chocolatey nature.

After the first couple of coats dry sufficiently, it will be time to do some taping and trim work. I may even be allowed to help out with that since I won't have to make any strategic decisions...just put the paint on the wood!

The Texas State Fair

2008-10-11T17:53:00.010-05:00

Last weekend the LB and I headed up to Dallas to visit family and the state fair. We have gone to the state fair everywhere we have lived; South Carolina, Kentucky, Hawaii, etc.; but had never been to the Texas fair. This has really eaten at my Lovely Bride, especially since we were both born in Texas, raised in Texas, attended schools in Texas, married in Texas...you get the idea.

I think what finally pushed her over the edge this year was when she found a list of events which was headed by "The Donkey & Mule Show". I don't know if I have mentioned it before, but my LB is not always rational when it comes to the subject of donkeys. After we went to see the movie, "Mamma Mia", our youngest daughter was told she had to have a "wedding donkey" whenever she finds the right guy. Finding that right guy may be more difficult after he finds out about his future mom-in-law and her donkey fetish. The LB is the only woman I know who carries plain granola bars in her purse just in case she runs into a little donkey in need of a snack.

When she discovered the state fair was hosting a show with all sizes and varieties of donkeys, she would not be deterred. She had to attend! And guess who was to be her sidekick for the weekend?

Dallas is usually not my favorite city in Texas, which probably stems from a bad experience with a blind date to the SMU football game during my freshman year at Texas A&M. However, one good aspect of Big D is the multitude of places to dine out. Naruna is a wonderful place to live, but if you want something to eat, you cook it yourself. I decided that if we were to be cruising the midway all day, we needed a decent meal beforehand, so made reservations at Lawry's. This is a great place so long as you are interested in large hunks of beef, presented with a little flair. We had a good meal, a good visit with family, and a good night's sleep before heading to Fair Park early the next morning.

The first stop after entering the fairgrounds was the Equine Pavillion, where all the donkeys were hanging out. Big donkeys, miniature donkeys, unhappy donkeys and sleepy donkeys. After roaming through the barn and failing to find any unsupervised donkeys small enough to slip into her purse, the LB decided to watch some of the competitions in the arena. Exciting as this was, and as cute as the little donkeys were, eventually we moved on to the exhibits and then to the main attraction...The Fried Stuff!

We wandered through the hundreds of food booths, in search of the perfect fair food. You could sample chicken fried bacon, fried banana splits, deep fried S'mores, deep fried grilled cheese sandwichs, and the list goes on forever. The possibility of suffering a grease overdose is everpresent, so careful planning is called for. We started with a smoked turkey leg and some fresh squeezed lemonade... health food. Our first fried food was a battered and deep-fried Moon Pie, drizzled with chocolate syrup and dusted with powdered sugar...a gooey and wonderful mess! Of course, no trip to the fair would be complete without a real State Fair Corny Dog since this is where they were invented and first served. The corny dogs were washed down with some fresh brewed root beer. After riding the ferris wheel, we found fried Jelly Bellys for dessert as we headed for the parking lot and home.

I can already tell we will need to allow more time next year for sampling(and digesting) all the interesting foods. Road trip, anyone??

2nd Anniversary

2008-10-11T16:24:00.006-05:00

Warning! A great deal of whining and psychobabble follows:
Today marks the second anniversary of my most recent serious attempt to kill myself. I must quickly state that none of these attempts have ever been deliberate or premeditated...they just seem to happen. This has not kept family members from labelling me as suicidal or at least not very smart when it comes to engaging in risky behaviors.

Two years ago at about this time of day, I was lying in a bed in a large metropolitan trauma center, full of IV drugs, with more catheters and tubes than I had orifices, and was unable and unwilling to move any part of my body because everything hurt. I was in this condition after literally getting lost in the fog on the way to work and failing to navigate a curve I had gotten around without incident twice a day for the past eight years. When I awoke, my motorcycle was on top of me with the headlamp shining up into the fog, and my helmet was sitting upright in the center of the road. After awhile, a couple of guys on their way to work came along and called the appropriate agencies. A quick ride to the local hospital(where I happen to work-embarrassing!), was followed by a helicopter ride to what is dubiously called "the next level of care". After spending 5 or 6 days in the big city hospital, it was decided I was probably stable enough to survive surgery and to begin putting some of the more annoying broken stuff back together.

Now it is two years later, there have been a few more surgeries, and a couple more are still on the not too distant horizon. My body still feels much the same as it did two years ago, with everything still hurting, just not as bad. I still have to stop and think before starting up or down stairs about which foots goes first. Changes in the weather frequently mean sleepless nights with no pain free way of lying down, and a headache only attracts attention when it isn't "the usual".

Whining aside, I have returned to most of my pre-crash activities, and have had some real adventures. Going to Italy this summer for the first time was a fantastic experience, and even though it was physically demanding I would go again without hesitation. With the current economic situation throughout the world, I am glad we went when we did, even though it seemed costly at the time.

The one activity I haven't picked up again has been riding a motorcycle. I have been offered the opportunity a couple of times by friends, but I have pled physical infirmity. My old and beat-up BMW Airhead is sitting in the garage, still minus its fairing. I have intermittently worked at fixing it, but until recently haven't accomplished much. I want to ride it again. I feel I NEED to ride it again. But can I bring myself to actually climb aboard, fire it up, and head off into the sunset?? How much of my desire to ride again comes from being schooled in the John Wayne School of Stoicism & Moral Fiber?..."Get up and climb back on that hoss that just throwed you, Pilgrim!" As long as the bike isn't completed, the mental confrontation and anguish can be delayed and postponed.

I have decided I need to get the bike back together and running. That is the first hurdle. Until I clear that one, I won't think about the next which will be whether to go back to riding again. Now where is the number for that bike shop?

The Thrill is Gone!

2008-08-23T12:42:00.009-05:00

If there is anything which passes for excitement here in Naruna, it has slipped away. The end of summer is upon us, and the LB is making preparations to return to feeding three or four hundred 2nd and 3rd graders breakfast and lunch every day of the week. Somehow, after being in a hot kitchen all day, she usually isn’t interested much in cooking at home. To make up for the coming nine months of eating leftovers, going out to eat, or just fending for myself, she is baking me a cake today. It goes by a variety of names: Texas Sheet Cake, Church Lady Cake, Cowboy Cake, etc. No matter what name gets hung on it, it is a really rich, moist, chocolate cake which gets iced while still warm, resulting in a wonderfully gooey mess which is magnificent. She is trying a recipe today she found over at http://thepioneerwoman.com/ . (If you don’t like chocolate, try Pioneer Woman’s creamed spinach! Even confirmed carnivores crave it.)

Summer time in Texas is always a balancing act. We wouldn’t live anywhere else, but our lives are always at the mercy of the weather. Last summer Central Texas almost washed away in the floods. This summer has been one of record days over 100 degrees. A couple of times each year, we pack up and visit relatives in Houston so we can walk on a real lawn again. In the very best of times we have grass, but nothing that would be mistaken for turf. Times like now, that grass is withered, brown and brittle, and quickly crumbles to a fine powder which blows away with the hot south wind.

In the span of just two weeks, Texas has had a hurricane and a tropical storm come ashore. Areas all around us got massive amounts of rain, while Naruna received a total of 0.4”. A few brave sprigs of green are trying to push up, but are being met with a withering blast of heat and quickly shrivel.

Even the LB’s beagle, Sam, who has boundless energy most of the time, is being affected by the heat. This morning, after making his usual rounds to ensure all was well in Naruna, he trotted across the road to visit with a group of BMW riders taking a water break in the church parking lot. After that, he was pretty much done for the day, only taking a moment to check out the occasional bug crawling around. Tizzy the cat even gave me a glare as though to warn me to stay clear or risk bodily harm.

Venice Re-visited

2008-08-11T07:08:00.008-05:00

I was surprised this last week. It seems my Lovely Bride posted a few of my photos from our trip to Italy on the local newspaper's travel site, and I was notified I had won their European Travel Photo contest. This was unexpected, since I didn't know there was a contest! If you are in Central Texas, and would like to see what they have to say, the photo and a short article are supposed to be in the Travel section of the August 17th Austin-American Statesman. I'm not sure if it will show up online , but here is the link. http://www.statesman.com/

Play date

2008-07-13T09:32:00.008-05:00

Saturday morning dawned soft and grey, with Rosie and Sam whining impatiently at the back door wanting out. Knowing their persistence, I crawled out of bed and let them out to investigate the overnight changes in Naruna. As soon as the door started to swing open, they barreled through the gap, and ran into a big polka-dotted red dog. Some of our closest (about a mile away) neighbors are gone on a cruise to Alaska, and their red heeler puppy got lonesome and came looking for a playmate. It wasn’t his first visit this week, so he has apparently solved the puzzle of opening the gate to his pen.

Rosie lost interest since no food was involved, but Sam and the heeler went zipping around the yard. They both tried their best to convince anybody watching that each was the fiercest puppy in Naruna, snapping and yipping as they tumbled around. After half an hour of this playacting, they collapsed, puffing and panting, best friends again.

Until next time.

Why we liked it!

2008-07-05T18:13:00.010-05:00

The LB and I had a wonderful time on our recent trip to northern Italy. It gave us a much needed escape from our normal lives, and allowed us to visit and experience a new part of the world. We saw artworks, cities and cathedrals previously only seen in books, movies or on television. History came alive as we walked through the narrow streets and alleys of the Veneto and Tuscany. But it was people, and the personal connections we made with them, who made our trip truly come to life.
In Venice, “our” gondolier took us on a trip through the canals, pointed out the sights and spoke of the historic people who made Venice what it is today. After our ride, it seemed we bumped into him several times each day. We would be sitting at our neighborhood canal-side café sipping espressos; he would row past with a load of tourists, and give the LB a hearty wave and big grin with nary a pause in his spiel. Walking to dinner across one of the endless bridges, we would hear a “buona sera” and he would go gliding under the bridge on his way to giving more tourists an experience of a lifetime.
American tourists are not common in the little hilltop town of Chiusdino, and most of the inhabitants viewed us as if we had green skin and had just climbed out of a spaceship. Carla went out of her way to make us feel welcome and encouraged us in our attempts to speak Italian. She ran the local fruit, vegetable and wine shop, so mostly we only needed to point to indicate what we wanted. We were able to communicate enough during our daily visits to learn she had studied English in school many years before, but hadn’t used it since. The day before we left, we had to go in just to say goodbye and let her know how much we appreciated getting to know her. All of this with her not speaking any English and us with no Italian.
When we first arrived in Florence, we felt we had arrived in a big city and might have trouble meeting people. The first time we went to catch the city bus to the historic town center, we realized that would not be an issue. We were standing at the stop, and a little old Italian lady walked up and launched into a monologue. She had talked for several minutes, when she finally noticed the blank looks and asked, “Capisca?” After we replied with shakes of our heads, she started up again. Apparently, she didn’t really care if we understood her, she just wanted to talk. By the time our bus came, we knew she was a widow and her husband had been dead for many years, she had been a teacher and had been forced to retire after thirty years because she hit the mandatory retirement age, and she really missed her home in Naples, but was living in Florence because of her son. Apparently, there was enough crossover between my college Spanish and her Italian for me to catch the general drift, but not enough to be able to converse. She blushed a bit when I asked if I could take her photo, but acted pleased.
This is what made our trip special, these and others we met and got to know, if only for a few minutes. They turned what could have been a sterile romp from one museum to the next into a human experience.

Back to Normal

2008-07-01T14:45:00.004-05:00

July 1, 2008
The jetlag is gone for the most part, clothes are getting washed, and I’ve gone back to work to start paying for our great vacation. I suppose that means the adventure is over and all is returning to normal. Yesterday afternoon I sat and watched the final of the Euro-2008 tournament where Spain defeated Germany. Italy had been ousted by Spain in the semi round, so at least they were defeated by the eventual champions. It was exciting to be able to watch the entire tournament, even though I didn’t have a personal stake in the outcome.

Another sign life is returning to normal occurred Saturday night just before bedtime. The LB’s beagle, Sam, was out for his evening constitutional, and began baying frantically. I eased out to explain to him that everybody else was trying to go to bed, and discovered he had encountered a little Boer goat while making his rounds at the church across the road. When the goat spotted me she trotted right past Sam, who was still loudly announcing the intruder’s presence, and followed me around to the pen out back, where she settled in and made herself at home. The next morning at church, the first person I asked knew exactly where the little goat was missing from and gave the owner a call. No cabrito for me!

The Home Stretch

2008-06-27T14:31:00.008-05:00

We took our leave of Chiusdino, and headed into the hills of Tuscany. With several extra hours before we were expected in Florence, we wound our way through the small towns located on the back roads, until we came to the hill top town of San Gimignano. This was a beautiful break in our drive, and gave us an opportunity to sample more gelato. Little in the town is level and you seem to be climbing up or down hill no matter where you are going. There are a few cars mixed with the mostly pedestrian traffic to keep you on your toes, but most walk to get around.

Arriving in Florence instantly reminded us we were in a sizable city, rather than some small Tuscan village. Lots of traffic with busy streets and tightly contested parking. We stayed in a hotel between the airport and the historic downtown area, which required a bus ride each way, giving us a chance to meet some of the local inhabitants and see parts of the city not included on the usual tour routes. We only had two full days in Florence and knowing that some of the important museums are closed on Monday, we were determined to visit the “must see” attractions on Sunday. Primarily this meant the Accademia museum, which has the original sculpture of Michelangelo’s “David”. We hopped an early morning bus downtown, and were in line by 8:45, and quickly were allowed into the cool recesses of the gallery. I had always imagined the statue being slightly larger than life, and was taken aback by its fourteen foot height. How was Michelangelo able to look at a block of marble and envision this beauty hidden inside? We wandered the other galleries in the museum, but came back to this artistic magnet again and again. Some had suggested we eavesdrop on tour guides as they discussed exhibits, but there were so many holding forth simultaneously, we quickly tuned them out and felt as though we were completely alone with this wonder from the Renaissance. Emerging into the sunlight, we discovered the waiting line now reached down the block and around the corner. The Duomo was next on our list, followed by the street market outside the church of San Lorenzo. The market gave the LB the opportunity for some unrestricted shopping before we headed back to our hotel. The next day we visited other attractions in Florence; the Boboli Gardens, Ponte Vecchio, Galileo Science Museum, the Loggia, and the Piazza della Repubblica were some of the high points. With the temperature reaching 38.5C (101F) our enthusiasm faded rather quickly. Sadly, although refreshing, the gelato was not up to the standard set for us in Siena.

Interacting with people, both locals and other tourists, was what made our trip so special to us and kept it from being just a “sightseeing” excursion. In Florence, we found a restaurant where our waitress went out of her way to take care of us. In this little “Mom & Pop” place her husband did the cooking, their son ran the pizza oven, while she waited tables and took care of all the customers. She spoke passable English, but we still had some problems deciphering some of the listings on the menu. With her help, we had some wonderful dishes, along with an extremely pleasant atmosphere. The next evening, we decided we would go back again, and discovered she had brought her Italian-English dictionary from home, so she would be able to better help us just in case we came back. This kind of personal contact was what made this trip memorable for us, and will have us getting ready for our next adventure.

Civilization(?) again

2008-06-21T08:54:00.003-05:00

We arrived in Florence this afternoon and checked into our hotel. We have a wireless internet connection, so I will try to catch up getting some things posted and a few pictures hung here and there around the blog. Catch you up soon.

Ice Cream Dreams

2008-06-21T08:51:00.003-05:00

Thursday, June 19, 2008
The opera was a blast last night. We arrived about 2 ½ hours before the performance and had dinner in a restaurant adjacent to the Abbey, operated by one of the local agriturismi. It was a beautiful evening and we sat at a table outside and watched the play of light on the ruins from the setting sun as we sipped our espressos.
I’m not sure if it was just first night confusion, but the show started 30 minutes late. It was sung in a mixture of the original German as well as Italian, and if we didn’t have some idea of the story line, we would have been completely lost. Most of the performers were good and the orchestra did a great job. Theatrical lighting was a challenge in the ruins of the old abbey, and there were several dark spots around the stage with which the singers had to contend. With the late start, we didn’t get home until after 1:00 a.m. I’m not used to these late hours!
Even after the late night, we were up early this morning, in the car, and headed to the town of Siena to see the sights. Our first challenge was to find parking close to this walled hilltop town. Fortunately, Siena has provided parking garages scattered around the perimeter where we can park for just €1.60 or $2.65/hour. They even provide escalators to bring the tourists and their money inside the walls.
Our first stop was the cathedral or Duomo, and its museum. The museum contains many of the fragile original artworks from the cathedral which have been replaced over the centuries with replicas. I was also able to see why they sent San Galgano’s skull home to Chiusdino…they have skulls, fingers and toes from more saints than you can shake a stick at. But the best feature was the Panorama dal Facciatone. Back in the early 1300’s, Siena began an expansion of the duomo which would make it larger than the new cathedral of rival Florence. The Facciatone is the façade for what was to be the grand new entrance, and was the only part finished before the money ran out and the Black Death killed off a third of the city’s population. Climbing tiny, claustrophobic spiral stairs take you to the best view in Siena. Not only is the town on display, but also the surrounding Tuscan countryside.
Il Campo is the social center of Siena, and is certainly where the tourists gather. It is a wonderful place to sit and people watch or just stroll about. However, the middle of the day is a bit warm, so we quickly headed in the direction of the escalators and the car park. Just off the Campo, we happened upon a gelateria which provided the best gelato we have sampled so far. Orange-chocolate & pistachio for me and coconut & Amaretto for the LB helped us to cool down as we strolled back through the winding streets. I hear stories of a gelateria in Florence which puts all the others to shame!! Ah, the sacrifices I have to make!!
Ciao for now!

How ya gonna keep 'em down on the farm?

2008-06-21T08:49:00.003-05:00

Wednesday, June 18, 2008
According to the LB, it stormed most of last night, with the same kind of pyrotechnics and sound effects as in that movie, “Under the Tuscan Sun”. After stuffing myself at dinner and my one glass of wine, I was totally oblivious, and never knew anything happened. Heavy fog or a low cloud completely enveloped our house this morning. A little Italian man appeared to check on us and ensure we survived the storm with no ill effects, and our electricity and gas were both still on.
This morning Deutsche-Welle announced the victory of Italy 2-0 last night, even though there wasn’t ever much doubt, so they will advance to the quarter finals in the Euro 2008 tournament. We are starting with a lighter breakfast this morning and plan to get out and do a little walking later. We need to pace ourselves so we are ready for the opera which doesn’t begin until 21:00.
We went out walking around the farm this afternoon to work off a little of the good food the LB has been fixing. When we first talked about visiting Italy, I assumed we would be eating every meal in one homey little trattoria after another, especially since her favorite food group is pasta. After a week in Venice with no kitchen, she was almost giddy when she discovered she had a gas four burner stovetop and convection oven to play with. We’ve still eaten out regularly, but when we are feeling a little culturally overwhelmed, she whips up some wonderful dishes, using fresh local ingredients, that stave off any feelings of homesickness we might be having.
The house where we are staying is located on a family run farm, or agriturismo, which has branched out into hosting tourists to supplement the farm’s income. Every day, the workers roll past the house in small 3-wheeled pickups on their way to work in the olive groves, vineyards, and fruit orchards. Several times each day, I will hear the tinkling of bells and get to watch the sheep moving to a new pasture. Walking the narrow tracks that connect the different parts of the farm allow us to see the differences in techniques used here and at home.
Walking past one of the vineyards, we see it doesn’t look at all like the manicured rows we see in the Texas Hill Country. Grasses are allowed to grow around the vines as a means of controlling erosion, since there is plentiful rain and no need for drip irrigation. Flowers, poppies in this vineyard, are planted between rows to help attract honey bees to the grapes, and rose bushes are planted as “canaries” around the vineyards since they are more susceptible to some of the same diseases as the vines. Olive trees are scattered wherever there is enough room, and berry vines are found on most of the fence rows. Fennel, sage and rosemary seem to grow wild in drainage ditches, and I keep being sent out to harvest “just one more sprig” for our next meal. A few days ago, the hands were on ladders around a couple of the fruit trees, and it wasn’t until they moved on I realized they had tied brightly colored plastic bags to limbs to keep birds at bay until the fruit is ready to be harvested.
We never know what we will see when we drive away from the house. Yesterday, it was a beautiful pheasant which seemed to think it owned the driveway and moved along at his own pace. Today, it was a very jolly hog trotting across a pasture alongside the highway. No pig sty for these guys, they really are “free range”, and the quality shows on the dinner table.

Real Football

2008-06-21T08:48:00.001-05:00

Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Out and about early this morning. Headed over to the abbey to see if we can pickup tickets for the Siena opera, which is to take place in the ruined abbey tomorrow night. We get to see Il Flauto Magico, by some fellow named Mozart. See...and y’all thought I was just a country bumpkin with no dam couth.
After getting our tickets, we hit the road to do some cruising and see what this part of Italy holds. We headed off towards Grosseto until my Lovely Bride announced she had found an “interesting road” on the map for us to take. I made the turn and the “interesting road” turned into a gravel one laner through the local equivalent of a national forest. The promised turnoff for a ruined castle never appeared, but after an hour in second gear, we at least returned to a paved road. It can be the little things which sometimes mean the most.
Rained in this afternoon. We came back to the house to take a nap and hand wash a few things, so naturally it started raining right after the LB got the clothes hung out. Rain kept up through time to go find dinner. There’s nothing quite like driving in the rain on twisting mountain roads in the dark, with no idea of where you are going. We ended up at a ristorante named Il Palazzetto, not too far from our house. As we arrived, the pre-game festivities for the France –Italia Futbol match are underway on the projection TV which was moved to project on an entire wall. Dinner was memorable in that we both managed to forget our phrase books, and thus were at the mercy of the non-English speaking staff. We have no idea what we ate, but it was very, very good. As the game began, the mood in the place ramped up quickly. Food and service became secondary as the Italians and French fought it out, with the local boys demonstrating their superior ball control techniques early in the match, and with the room erupting from time to time in celebration of Italian good moves, or French faux pas. As we made our exit after the first period, with Italy leading 1-0, the LB asked me why college football can’t be that exciting. Nearly an hour of non-stop action, a half-time for the Band, followed by more full speed action. This instead of the interminable starts and stops for first downs, team time outs, media timeouts, official time outs, etc, which drag an hour of playing time out to 2½ - 3 hours. Now she has a mission and wants A&M to find an Italian coach to fire them up. Maybe she is on to something.

Lazy Day

2008-06-21T08:46:00.003-05:00

Monday, June 16, 2008
Lazy day around the house, and then went to town for some shopping. The LB tossed some fresh stuff together and came up with a wonderful zuppa di pasta e fagioli. We keep feeling jet lagged after the 3 hour train ride from Venice (hey, we’re Aggies), and the soup was just the thing to help.
During the day we wandered about Chiusdino a little more. We visited San Galgano’s birthplace which has been a number of things since, including a jail when Napoleon was in charge of Italy. There was also the Church of the Visitation of the Archangel Michael, commemorating when he appeared to San Galgano and threw down the gauntlet, so to speak, of giving up warring and turning to church work. Or maybe it remembers when Mike visited Galgano’s mommy who was barren up ‘til then to let her know she was going to conceive…it gets confusing, especially since everything is in Italian. Anyway, the church has the reliquary holding San Galgano’s head tucked away in a corner. Siena had it for several hundred years, but gave it back to Chiusdino in the 1970’s when they couldn’t come up with any practical use for a slightly used skull.

The Sword in the Stone - Really

2008-06-21T08:44:00.004-05:00

Sunday, 16 June 2008
A late start today, but we only went as far as the Abbey of San Galgano. San Galgano is the Chiusdino favorite son as well as patron saint, a young man born here who turned from the life of a soldier to the church. He had a vision of the Archangel Michael, and to show his resolve plunged his sword into a stone on a hilltop within sight of our house. Later, in the 1100’s the church built an Abbey nearby and a small chapel over the stone where only the sword hilt and a short portion of the blade is visible. Some say this is the original source of the Arthurian legend, while others hold that Galgano was only a copycat. At any rate it makes for an entertaining story and having the Abbey and chapel close at hand help us to feel we are enmeshed in the history of this place. One day this week, we plan to visit his casa natale in downtown Chiusdino. Hey, nobody can say we’re not having an exciting time on our vacation.
After a week in Venice, it is exciting to just be able to see and enjoy some of the little joys of nature. At S. Galgano’s, the honey bees were everywhere, pollinating the vineyards, as well as flitting to the beautiful flowers which we saw all around. We’ve found that driving in the early afternoon is much less congested as many take the Italian version of a siesta, allowing us to slow down and leave the windows open smelling everything in the outdoors. Right now, I’m sitting under an arbor in front of the house, enjoying the sun and breeze, listening to chickens at the next little farmhouse over, as well as constant birdsongs.
It seems our biggest challenge since arriving in Tuscany is getting ourselves on the right schedule. W e seem to sleep later here, have a little breakfast, and then head out to see what the day holds for us, just about the same time the local restaurants and stores are closing for siesta. I don’t like to be out driving after dark on these little roads, so we are trying to find somewhere to eat long before any normal person; i.e., Italian, would even think of dining. Last night we found a spot on the road to Siena which looked interesting. It was about 6:30pm, all we could get was pizza, and they stuck us in the back room along with all the other crazy tourists who were eating at that ungodly hour.

Tuscany

2008-06-21T08:43:00.003-05:00

After taking the train from Venice to Florence, we picked up a rental car and took off on our own. Once away from the chaos of Florence, driving the small back roads of Tuscany was a totally wonderful experience. The roads were mostly deserted, and as long as I stayed 10 or 15 kph over the posted speed limit, I didn’t hold up the local traffic too much. As we moved into the area southwest of Siena known as the Val d’Merse, or the Merse river valley, the hills got larger and the roads began to twist and turn more vigorously. No problem, at least until some of the locals became impatient with my progress, and started sitting on my bumper. Our little car, a new Ford Focus with a turbo-diesel, was up to the challenge of the tight corners and very short straights heading up the mountain, but I was the obvious limiting factor in this game. The tailgaters finally swept past us on a blind uphill turn, and were gone from sight in seconds. Benvenuto a Italia!!
Without further excitement we arrived in the small hilltop town of Chiusdino where we were to stay for this week. Studying the map and directions sent by the rental agent, got us headed down a one lane track more appropriate for a tractor or four-wheel drive truck. At the bottom of this path, we found an old German who managed to convince us we were beyond lost. Backtracking to Chiusdino, we spotted another little road which might fit the description given in the directions. We tried to translate the written directions into actions, and ended at another dead end, this populated by an ancient Italian woman, 2 geese and a dog of indeterminate ancestry. With much waving of her walking stick and gesturing, she managed to convey to us that, no we weren’t in the right place, but just needed to return to the last intersection and keep going despite what the directions said. Another ten minutes of maneuvering along gravel paths brought us to our home for the next week, Casa Emilia. The rental agent was at the house, and gave us a quick introduction to the place. One reason for the brevity was her complete lack of English and our lack of either Italian or German. Oh well, that’s why we have phrase books, right?
With a German rental agent, the house was spotless, including the kitchen, whose shelves were completely bare of any foodstuffs. We packed up and headed back to the town above, to find a restaurant for a bite to eat and then off to the COOP, which is the HEB of Italy. We finally located the restaurant, which was closed at the time, so we headed into the COOP. It turned out to not be nearly as large as the one we had been frequenting in Venice, more like a gas station mini-mart. We picked up a few things, headed next door to the meat market and then down the street to the fresh fruit and wine shops. Of course, between each of these shopping opportunities, it was necessary to return to the parked car and unload. Our reward was some delicious steak au poivre, fried potatoes with green beans, sliced tomatoes with asiago cheese, and a fresh baked baguette, accompanied by a very nice Maglianello Chianti Reserva. This was our first real meal outside a restaurant since we left Texas.

Leaving Venezia

2008-06-21T08:41:00.004-05:00

We had no plans for our last night in Venice. It had been a day of cleaning and getting ready to leave a city we weren’t certain we wanted to leave yet. We were finally feeling comfortable in wandering the calles and fondamenti around the island without worrying about getting terminally lost. After all, how can you be expected to find all those places you aren’t looking for without getting lost occasionally? Public transportation only held surprises for us, not barriers.
My knee was becoming the limiting factor in our journeys around town, but it felt better if it was exercised and stressed a bit, so we headed out with no real destination or goal. Our path took us past the Rialto and along the Grand Canal into new areas. During the day, this part of town is jammed with tourists and locals catering to them. After 19:00, only the occasional shop was still looking to harvest the few dollars or euros available. Screams rang out from upper floors of buildings, signaling the ups and downs of the football match against Romania. (It ended in a 1-1 tie. But we were robbed!) An elderly grandmother in a shop allowed me to watch the game on her small television as long as the LB kept shopping.
We ended up, as it seemed we always did, at San Marco, just in time for the passeggiata, listening to the dueling orchestras competing for the attention of locals and tourists alike. We strolled the waterfront again, listening to the incessant squabbling of the gondoliers, sounding like nothing so much as a group of feisty seagulls all squawking, “Mine, mine” (It helps to understand if you have grandchildren!) After all this activity, we decided to have a last meal and stopped into a little trattoria for a quick meal of sweet & sour sardines and steamed mussels. The sardines are a local delicacy in Venice and really are much better than they sound. The little café was on a new street, so we decided to follow it toward home. After encountering several watery cul-de-sacs, I was forced to use my map…so much for finding my way around town. Fortunately, in this place you go from totally lost to home in the span of a single turn. Such was the case last night, with “our church”, S. Maria dei Miracoli, jumping out as we made the corner and crossed the bridge.
The weather during our stay in Venice has been beautiful…warm and sunny during the day, with cool evenings. Yet visiting Venice is very much like going to New Orleans or Galveston. Even when the weather is good, it is going to be damp and humid, so you may as well get used to the idea. Our departure day dawned drippy, gray and cold. By the time we were packed and ready to leave, it had increased to a steady drizzle, making for an uncomfortable walk to the vaporetto stop. An enterprising flower shop owner earned my thanks and a few euros by having a display of umbrellas by the door. The vaporetto came to our rescue, and provided our transportation to the rail station. At one time I had suggested to the LB we walk from our apt to the station, but she vetoed that idea quickly. Sometimes (?) she really does think straighter than I do.
At the station, we walked into what appeared mass chaos. If we had not stopped and reconnoitered the layout during a previous outing at a quiet time, we would have been lost. As it worked out, we had time for cappuccinos and still found our train and even the correct car, unlike quite a few of the other American tourists. On the track next to ours, sat the latest incarnation of the Orient Express. Their passengers didn’t have to schlep their own luggage, since the liveried porters delivered it directly to their stateroom. Another porter went from compartment to compartment, placing fresh flowers in each. I also noticed the passengers didn’t dress like the rag-tag bunch of locals and tourists on our train.
Finally, the train eased out of the station and began the trip to Florence. Since we were travelling on the Euro Star, there were only a few stops along the way, first in Mestre (which is the Venice station on the mainland), then Padua, and finally Bologna before pulling into Florence’s S. Maria Novella station. At times it seems as if everything in this country is named after one saint or another. It sounds beautiful, but can make it difficult to keep track of where you are. In Florence, the plan had been to catch the bus to the airport to pick up our rental car, but the LB was looking a wee bit frazzled, so I splurged on a taxi. It proved much easier getting there, but I’m not sure it helped her nerves any. The taxi driver seemed determined to see how close he could come to every other vehicle on the road. Lanes and signals obviously meant little to him as he slalomed through traffic, determined to set a new speed record on this fixed price run.
At the car rental office, all went smoothly after I convinced the clerk I really hadn’t reserved a 3-door Yugo. The correct paperwork was located and soon we were headed out into the streets of Florence. The airport is on the outskirts of the city, so it was not difficult to find the autostrada headed toward Roma. We veered off toward Sienna and then were on some of the prettiest back roads I’ve ever driven. Next stop: Chiusdino!

2008-06-13T02:59:00.003-05:00

Friday, 13 June 2008
Happy Friday the 13th! Last night the LB got to take her boat ride. Yes, it is an extravagance, but when you consider how much it has cost to get here and how long it has taken to make the trip, and how grumpy(oops), I mean how terribly, terribly disappointed the LB would be if she didn’t get her romantic gondola ride, it is well worth the cost. Just before dusk, we tracked down a gondolier (they’re everywhere) and set forth for a quiet tour of the area we have been living in for the past week. We have spent a lot of time standing on bridges, gazing at the canals flowing underneath, but from water level all looks different. By the time our ride began, the delivery traffic had stopped, so we encountered very few motorized boats, mostly just other gondolas. Quiet, smooth waters, with the occasional tourists watching from bridges as we glide past. I often wonder how many photo albums the LB & I will appear in around the world, because it seems as though someone is taking our picture every time we turn around. After our ride, we strolled until my knee got tired, and then repaired to our favorite pizza parlor in Campo SS Apostoli. It is the magnet to which we are drawn whenever we get lost. Don’t know how, but we’ll be stumbling along lost, wondering where in the blazes we are, and then suddenly pop out into the campo. Plus they have the best pizza we’ve had in Venice.
Today is our last day in Venezia. It will be a day of washing, packing and checking details for the next part of our trip, which will see us in Tuscany. We’ll get this posted today, but we don’t know what the state of the internet will be in the small town of Chiusdino, which is where we will be staying for the next week. We’ll have a car, so we should be able to get out and about a little more, and see some of the countryside. Tomorrow we’ll hop on the train for Florence and then LB gets to navigate us through the hills of Tuscany, while I mix it up with the Italians on the autostrada!
Ciao!

2008-06-13T02:58:00.003-05:00

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Memos to self:
1. Next trip to Venice, bring slipper socks. Stone floors get really cold!
2. Don’t characterize the lovely bride (LB) as being a grump when she is gastronomically challenged. For some reason, she finds this objectionable and becomes grumpy.

Today was the day we had set aside for exploring the lagoon islands. At the Fondamente Nove vaporetto stop, we purchased 48 hour passes so we can hop on and off as much as we want between now and when we head for the train station Saturday morning. We caught the 41 boat for Murano, and headed for the glass museum, with the LB keeping her eyes open for souvenir possibilities along the way. The museum gives a pretty good overview of the history of glassmaking in the lagoon, dating back to the time of Christ. We headed out to do some serious shopping on the way back to the vaporetto, stopping at several likely looking shops. One was promising, even though it was a little up-scale for us, but the staff sat and visited with each other and completely ignored their customers. So even though I had found what I thought I wanted, we left in search of a more hospitable shopping environment. Sure enough, about half way to the vaporetto stop, we found a much smaller shop where the owner was a young Italian woman who spoke to us in passable English, let us move pieces to better appreciate the colors, and advised us about the high costs of shipping items to the US. It wasn’t any real difference in merchandise quality, but rather her attitude and personable approach which caused us to buy in her shop.
We cut short our cruise around the lagoon after my bum leg started giving me trouble. There was an unmarked step-down in the museum which I missed, my knee made an interesting and not altogether natural sound, so Burano and Torcello will just have to wait until our next trip to the Veneto.
We returned to our apt too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so we rummaged in the fridge and munched on leftovers to keep up our strength. We keep picking up cantaloupe, prosciutto, cheese of varying types, bread, fresh fruit and so on whenever we are wandering the back alleys, so there has been no real threat of losing weight while on holiday. Satisfied for the moment, we are going to rest up to prepare ourselves for the real meal of the day this evening, whatever it may be. If we ate like this at home, we would feel very, very guilty. Here our gluttony is just part of showing our appreciation for cultural diversity, and it is the least we can do. Alleluia!

2008-06-13T02:52:00.007-05:00

Wednesday, 11 June 2008
Today was one of those days when nothing we had planned came to fruition, but it was still one of the nicest days of the trip. First, we managed to ignore the alarm and snooze until after 9:30. Scrounged breakfast from the fridge, and headed out quite a bit later than planned. We headed to San Marco by a different route, going by way of C. Santa Maria Formosa and San Zaccaria Church. All was well until we left C. Formosa and went astray, once again. Somehow we missed San Zaccaria completely and arrived at the Arsenale, or military headquarters for Venice. We managed to convince them we really weren’t looking at their Amphibious Assault Ship, and went on our way. If they didn’t want people to take pictures, you’d think they wouldn’t park it in the main channel!
After walking the back streets for a couple of hours, we found ourselves on the waterfront where all the hotel shuttles, water taxis and vaporetti come and go. The lovely bride was beginning to grump a bit since she hadn’t been fed since our makeshift breakfast, so we found a dockside café and had a beer each and split a plate of antipasto. She mellowed out considerably after absorbing some of the Birra Morretti, nibbling on prosciutto and salami, sitting in the sea breeze and people watching. A word of caution; check the menu before ordering anyplace close to the center of touristic activities…the beers ended up costing 11 euros each, or a little more than $18. By the time we got to Piazza San Marco, all was closed, so we headed home by way of the Ferrari store. Lots of interesting stuff there…just bring money.
After a short naptime, we headed out to find some dinner. One place we had seen in our comings and goings was a small corner ristorante in Campo S. Maria Nova named the Antico Gatoleto. http://www.ristoranteanticogatoleto.com/ We showed up and ducked inside just as a small thunderstorm blew in. Parking at a corner table, we were able to watch the other patrons as they interacted with the staff. This was the kind of friendly, neighborhood place we are always looking for, but rarely find. Even though about half of the diners were tourists, the waiter was friendly and attentive. There was none of the coldness or even rudeness we have too frequently seen among wait staff who primarily serve tourists. We were made to feel this was our neighborhood diner, and the staff was really glad to see us, not just tolerant of our presence. When our food began arriving, we realized there was more than just the staff to bring us back again. We had a variety of seafood as well as two different veal dishes and salad, finishing up with espressos when we couldn’t find room for dessert. For once we were in agreement that this was the best meal we’ve shared since arriving in Venice.

Same day, just later.

2008-06-11T06:03:00.003-05:00

I had forgotten how restorative naps can be. After our little snack, Susan worked on her blog for a bit, and I stretched out to rest my eyes…just for fifteen minutes or so. Several hours later, I roused up enough to realize I needed to feed my lovely bride before she started getting cranky again. We headed for a bar we had heard about which advertised live jazz, as well as decent food. On arrival, we found it had been taken over by a gaggle of foreigners, and ‘twas a jumping joint. After a brief consultation we elected to search for a quieter venue.
We wandered toward San Marco and ended up in the piazza. Amazing the difference between mid-day and 6:00pm. There were still people around the square, but most of them were trying to leave and get back to hotels or cruise ships. The museums and Basilica were closed, so the only thing to do was stroll about and people watch. We found an Italian seafood restaurant a block or so off the square, and settled in for a five course meal. Baby octopi, sweet & sour sardines, spaghetti with mussels, sautéed prawns, fried squid, shrimps, and minnows were just some of the interesting things crawling across our plates. While eating, two large groups of American school kids came into the restaurant: one extremely noisy, loud and northeastern in dialect; the second was quieter, more tastefully attired, and sat at three tables close to us. Susan & I kept trying to guess where they were from by their dress and behavior. Ruled out anywhere northern, especially after half of them ordered coca-colas, and they weren’t tanned enough to be from the west coast. Susan settled on Atlanta, based simply on the fact that the teacher leading the group and several of the guys were wearing deck shoes with no socks (a la Lewis Grizzard). As we were leaving, I had to ask where they were from, and they were from Beaufort, South Carolina. One girl was excited to hear we were from Texas since she is going to SMU in the fall. It’s a small world, indeed.
We arrived back at Piazza S. Marco in time for the evening passeggiata, or stroll. The personality of the square was completely changed from mid-day. Orchestras were set up in front of cafes around the edges of the piazza, and took turns playing sets of different music. This ranged from Broadway show tunes to Vivaldi. If you feel like sitting, the café will charge you for the privilege of doing so with a 10 Euro coberto or cover charge. We opted to just stroll the square with the crowd of mostly locals, listening to first one and then another orchestra in the gathering darkness. After this mostly perfect evening, I did manage to get lost again on the way back to the apt. Some things never change.
Ciao for now.

A Slow Day?

2008-06-11T06:00:00.002-05:00

Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Today we have started out on a calmer note. Traipsing over the Ponte S. Maria Nova, brought us to the campo and a canal-side café. Susan & I settled into a tavola with our cappuccinos, and undertook some serious people watching. She thinks she is able to pick out the different furriners by their demeanor and dress (or lack thereof). Even though I’m not as confident in ID’ing Germans, Frenchies, Americans, etc., it is easy to spot the Italians. They tend to dress much better and move through their world with an air of confidence lacking in all the others. Some of the tourists, Germans especially, attempt to make up for this lack of confidence with a display of arrogance which can make even the Americans look good in comparison.
Last night we found an Internet café with a wireless hot-spot which allowed us to clear out the emails and post some pictures to our blogs. It was your typical little hole-in-wall Italian pizza parlor, run by a family of Chinese. We did alright getting drinks and food ordered since we stuck to the basics…vino rosso and pizza. Some Germans came in after us, and were trying to order complex Italian dishes in German from the Chinese waitress…it was not pretty.
One surprise in Venice has been the multitude of dogs. If I had given it any thought before arriving, I probably would have predicted it to be a cat city, with little or no solid ground and everything covered with concrete. But we have yet to sight our first cat, and there is a constant swirl of puppies around us wherever we venture. Evidently, the Venetians take them along to work, and they stay throughout the day. All sizes, all breeds…there is no real pattern other than it seems every third resident has one, and the puppies tend to be very well trained. And there are no messes in the streets. As we sat this morning, we saw several doggies do their business, and their owners immediately swooped in, picked up the poo and dropped it in the trash, obviously a routine part of their day.
We headed out to go to the grocery which is just up the street (alleyway) from the apartment. We’ve only been past it a ½ dozen times so far, so naturally yours truly gets lost and we end up on the Strada Nuova, which is one of the largest shopping areas after Rialto. I tried to get Susan interested in doing a little light window shopping since we were already there, but all we picked up were some picture postcards. Since I had already been lost in that area several times on this trip, we quickly found the COOP store and picked up some necessities. Left there and stopped at the fruit stand to pick up some melon and cherries, then next door to the cheese shop for some asiago fresa to go with our prosciutto. In fact, Susan just brought me a plate with some cheese, prosciutto, pane and fresh cherries for a little snack to tide me over until time for espressos in an hour or two. Then we have to discuss where we’ll go for supper…I think seafood tonight. So eat your hearts out people, cause we’re sure not in Naruna anymore, are we Toto?

How many times can an Aggie get lost on an Island?

2008-06-09T13:02:00.004-05:00

Monday, June 09, 2008
So much for good intentions! I managed, with help from my alarm, to crawl out of bed at an earlier hour this morning. Susan got the café brewed and served up (she really does take care of me) and we headed out the door on time. We even found our way back to and across the Rialto Bridge, and on to the church of the Frari, which was our mission for the day. It was after the tour of the church that I managed to get us lost again for a largish span of time. It was only when we were trying to get onto the causeway which connects Venice with the mainland that I realized my error. The only thing which made it bearable was the young couple from North Carolina who came up to us asking directions on getting to Venice…they are probably in Austria by now. I guess I should have known we were going astray when we went strolling across a parking lot…after only two days here, it really felt strange to see cars instead of boats.
The Frari was well worth the prolonged walk. It has works of Bellini and Titian as well as others who made their paintings and sculptures for just this setting. It makes some of the pieces in museums look lost, lonely, and out of context in comparison. If you are really interested in Venetian art, Google the Frari, etc. I feel I’ve done good to decide whether I personally like something, but I can’t begin to explain it to others, so I’ll try not to write art reviews and chase everyone away.
While we wandered lost on the periphery of this island city, we happened upon a green spot. It only takes a short time to become accustomed to the lack of grass and other vegetation, so finding an actual park with trees and shrubs and flowers was a welcome respite. It is hard to imagine trees in this place which is built on mud flats covered with stone.
I really need to start feeding Susan on a regular schedule. I am so used to grabbing a doughnut and a cup of coffee before embarking on a surgery marathon, which frequently sails right through lunch, I don’t think about stopping at a particular time for meals. However, Susan gets really testy if I don’t slow for real food with some regularity. I would even say she gets cranky if she has to skip meals. It seems one of her ideas of an Italian vacation revolves around an endless supply of pasta dishes, with some new and untried variety always available for tasting. After 32 years, I should know better.
It is about time for us to hit the sidewalks and canals again. Susan spotted an Internet café with wireless access, so we will try to find it again and connect with the outside world. After that, who knows what the night will bring us?
Ciao from Venezia