Observations

820 Express Joy Ride

After coming off of almost 4 years of construction (ever since we moved to Texas), it would seem almost “whiny” to find fault with the “school taxi” route being reduced by 5-10 minutes both ways. Of course, categorizing this as an observation clears my conscience and allows me to do the retelling…

The closest highway to our house is due south. It is “820”. It is an outerbelt to Fort Worth. Just to the east to southeast of us are a couple of more well-traveled highways. And, to the west, there is US 35. (US 35 is a slightly messed up highway. It “splits” north of DFW and reunites south of DFW north of Waco. This allows directions containing “Go north on 35W off of 820W”) The story I heard is when “the really smart highway engineers” realized all of these highways were generating more traffic than could reasonably be handled by the existing structure, somebody came up with a rather unique plan. Since we have quite a few toll roads in Texas-even though some of them are lightly used, “the really smart cheapskates who make decisions on how to pay for highways” decided they would allow someone (enter a rich guy from the Middle East-remember, I am not researching this-it is what I was told) to pay for the construction of this new road. Fortunately, due to the incredible volume of traffic, “the people in Austin who have a conscience” would not allow the road to become a toll road with no alternatives. They chose to split the difference. They created a “normal” chunk of 820 (speed limit 60 mph), and they created a chunk of 820 (and points slightly east) where there is a toll with a speed limit of 70 mph. (Having a toll card makes the pain minimal.) “The people who sucked in an investor to this unique project” did give him/her (“the person/company who needed to spend lots of money on a project where they may never get a return on their money”) a concession. Not only did “the greedy investor” get a toll road, but they got a road with varying tolls. I have seen the tolls as low as $0.25 and as high as $3.25. It varies on time of day and how thick the traffic is at that particular moment.

My adventure occurred yesterday morning. It was a thick foggy day with visibility of less than 1/2 a mile. After dropping off the girls at school, I began the normal 7:30ish route home. Due to the visibility or the novelty of fog or the arrogance of some over-zealous Texas driver, my normal, non-toll route was WAY backed up. I detoured to the access road (This is also a phenomenon in Texas. I was not aware of “access roads” in Ohio. Essentially, it is a road that runs parallel to many of the highways. It allows a driver to get on the highway from the access road without having to enter an entrance ramp from a complete stop. It also allows many addresses to incorporate the names of the highways. An address like, “8200 820E” might be a completely valid address.) to avoid sitting in traffic for any extended time. At the next intersection, I could make a turn to the left or right OR I could go straight before choosing to take the left or right fork – one to the “normal” 820 and one to the “toll” 820. Unfortunately, I chose left. (I should have known left was the toll because on the highway the toll road is situated inside of the normal road.) I endured a near traffic free journey to the next exit. (This exit was past my normal exit. The “express” did not allow me to get off where I wanted, but it was close…) The rest of my journey home was uneventful.

As I dropped off the girls today, there was minimum fog and light traffic on the normal route home. When I drove by the sign where my toll would have been displayed yesterday, the same “detour” today would have cost me $1.40. I have convinced myself I would have sat in traffic for a considerable amount of time if I did not take my “joy ride”, so it is obviously money well spent!

Curious Squirrel Boogie

As I was getting my nearly 1/2 gallon plastic cup of ice water assembled, I noticed I had a spectator. My glance up from the sink revealed a tail end of a squirrel trying to seek shelter from his extreme curiosity.

I set my water down before committing to do whatever it took to get the squirrel out of our yard. Since he was not as certain of this eventuality as I was, we did go back and forth a bit. As I opened the back door to the porch, he was already moving along the brick-wide “path” that easily lent itself to his exclusive travel. My initial leap out of the door caused him to move toward the next patio (near the inner tube) to see if I was serious in fulfilling my pledge. As I expected this pause, I followed him along the white line, as shown above, and beyond.

After clearing the yard, he was able to move back into his comfort zone. He quickly climbed a small tree to gain the fence. After followed the fence to the tree, he parked on the backside of the tree feeling confident I would assume he went up to the nest above. (There must be some territorial thing with squirrels. In the tree he was using as temporary shelter, there are a couple of squirrel nest above. I have yet to see any squirrel gangs in our neighborhood OR yard, but that does not mean the “Acorns” and the “Oaks” don’t have a deep feud both gangs have forgotten the origin of.) After a couple of rounds of peek-a-boo as I poked my head around both sides of the back of the tree, he knew he needed to boogie out of town pretty quickly.

He dropped to the ground and ran into the neighbors yard through the plank that was on strike in our shared fence. (Since we have the “pretty” side of the fence, we are told the responsibility for fixing/replacing the fence largely falls upon us.) I probably grunted or yelled or performed some sort of rodent impression as he made his final dash.

This was not my first bout with these over-abundant nut lovers. There was a time over 3 years ago when our house served as the battle ground for “Squirrel Wars”. The emotional scars are still healing! We still feel violated and dirty whenever we go into our upper attic…..

Conscientious Longhorn

Of course, it was imagined! And, of course, I couldn’t understand a longhorn if he (generic he – both genders of longhorns have horns ) tried to communicate with me. But, after getting this picture, I was certain I heard the wind or some sort of moo-lish communication expressing this concern, “Do my horns make my hips look big?”

After having been in more than one discussion with my wife (who does NOT have horns), I have learned any answer relating to this line of questioning needs to be handled delicately. I suppose my answer would be in the form of a question, “You have hips? Your horns are so beautiful I hadn’t noticed!”

If my wife did have horns, she would probably make a great cow. And, if she were still my wife, I probably had an odd childhood….

Population Reduction Therapy

I know most people really love flies! They love to have them flying around touching their food, making false kamikaze dives at their head and being the life of the party. As fall has arrived and the temperatures have dropped, I have found therapy in reducing the fly population by at least a few in a very hands on way.

As the above picture indicates, I executed a fly in my rather cluttered workspace. I calculated a “clap” just an inch or so above his home. (I am not aware of flies having true homes. In my understanding, a flies home is where he plants his feet and extends his antennae.) If improperly calculated, my “clap” will knock something down or one hand will ricochet off of some object determined to delay my justice. However, when properly executed, this maneuver allows for the flies habit of hopping up slightly before turning on the “gas” and taking flight. If the “clap” is completed but the fly is too nimble, I usually give myself a very red hand. (Due to my excesses of youth, I did hear of a fly research facility studying alternate “take off” techniques.”

It is almost unfair to mention a couple of flies I have also killed recently. They thought they hit the jackpot when they were left in the refrigerator. However, after their extended stay at the chilled buffet, not only were their bellies full (everything was covered, so it is not like our food was bait for my killing spree), but their movements were very lethargic. I easily claimed a couple of victims–victims that would not have photographed nearly as well as my desktop accomplishment.

Since my wife and I both share a strong dislike for the buzzing that apparently is in a flies job description, it is hard not to hold a grudge against these buzzing machines. (Their rules for life seem to be “buzzing and ‘make yourself comfortable’ wherever you may be”.) My wife appreciates me volunteering to do the “wetwork” involved in purging our household of these very uninvited guest. And, I have been remorseful for a number of things in my life, but fly eradication is not one of them!

Interviewing New Neighbors

Once you live in a neighborhood long enough, the “For Sale” signs are bound to go up. The person across the street sold over a year ago. And, this weekend we have another neighbor moving out. We are jockeying for parking space in front of our house while trying to discourage parking in front of our mailbox until after the little white truck w/ the nice Jamaican postal worker deposits our letters and catalogs.

Fortunately, we are not completely concerned about our new neighbors. You see, we have interviewed them already. It was not completely intentional. When things are very deliberate, they are often not as insightful. As my son and I came back from a walk (I believe it was a Sunday afternoon), there were 2 or 3 cars in front of the neighbors house. At the time, I thought I met the husband, wife, grandmother and the 3 kids that were a part of the family we would soon call neighbors. The most notable fact I collected was they had a daughter who was an 8th grader. (My daughters are 8th and 9th) I went home and spread this fact to my daughters. They replied with, “I hope she likes playing outdoors and crafts.”

Later that week, we were standing in a line to deal with a small issue in court. As the line moved slowly and lawyers were able to cut to the front of the line to hasten their passage through the metal detector, the line had a couple of curls in it. While one of the curls brushed against our part of the line, this conversation followed…

Linewoman: Haven’t we met you before?
Me: If you are going to be our new neighbors on Cattle Prod (not its real name) street, we have!
Linewoman: We are excited to move into the neighborhood! We like the location, and it was just time to get a larger house! (the line started to move again) We can talk more inside.

Once inside, we both had our separate issues to get resolved. Our attorney quickly worked through our issue. As we were walking out, I tapped our would-be new neighbor, and said, “We will have something to talk about at our first cookout.”

This morning, the neighbor who is moving out dropped by and dropped off the key we let him have just “in case”. Our conversation went something like this…..

Neighbor: Well, today is the day. I hope the trucks don’t get in your way, but tonight will be our last night in the house. I hope we have been a good neighbor!
Me: You sure have! We have had issues with the neighbor on the other side and the one across the street before they moved out. You have been nothing but a help whether it was the pool pump or any other issue. I thank you for that! Have you met the person who is moving in?
Neighbor: My wife has. She thought it was a mother and a couple of kids. She thought they seemed nice.
Me: One Sunday afternoon, I met them. I thought the mother had a husband. I guess we will find out soon.
Neighbor: Yes, the close date has been pushed back. We have sold to the relocation company, but I think the house will sit empty a week or so before they move in.
Me: Better go supervise their packing. If things are going into storage before you find a house, you don’t want any problems when you open the cartons in Connecticut. (He told me the headhunter was so surprised someone would want to leave Texas and move to New England.) You have been a good neighbor, and I thank you for it! Best of luck to you and your wife!
Neighbor: Thanks, Andy! Have a great Christmas.

As our best neighbor leaves, we are very hopeful the new neighbor does not disappoint the expectations developed through the interviewing process. As little influence as we had on the final decision of who would move in next door, we are truly hopeful the minimum expectations are met. We have had enough car dings and bipolar mood swings out of our neighbors. Just give us a family (any of the definitions of family apply even if somewhere on the LGBT spectrum) with a couple of kids (preferable one within a couple of years of my daughters) who have minimum distinguishing features (this includes tattoos, piercings, and/or clothes or hair styles) but with a desire to try and be a good neighbor, and we will be fine.

Your Neighbor May Not Be Very Nice If…

Although these may look like an innocent pile of leaves, they really are not. And, if you are curious, they are not some random swirling of leaves who all decided to congregate at approximately the same place. We are pretty sure it is a plot crafted by our neighbors to get back at us for something beyond our control….

When we bought the house almost 5 years ago, both our neighbors and us had swimming pools. As an additional bonus, we had an elm tree hanging over our pool. It ALSO hung over our neighbors pool and our back fence. When we moved in, the tree was well established. It is not a mutant tree we bought from a catalog nor is it a tree that has benefited from any type of dark magic. It is simply a tree with natural tree-like tendencies. And, when it gets close to winter time (commonly referred to as autumn or fall), the leaves fall off of the tree. They are not vindictive. They do not follow bizarre whims or mystical vortexes that propel them into places other than where God intends for them to go. Sometimes it is windy, and sometimes it is not. Once the tree decides it is done with its foliage, it is a VERY random thing. Sometimes the randomness of these actions will allow these leaves to fall into someones pool. And, if your neighbor has a big tree with lots of foliage, it would seem almost impossible to believe all leaves would avoid your yard/pool entirely. When these random leaves arrive in someone’s pool, it is likely they will float (or sink) and arrive in the pool’s skimmer. Once in the skimmer, the leaves are all packed into a little basket until the faithful owner arrives to take the basket to the garbage or compost pile or….

Now, back to our picture…Just to the right of the leaf piles, we have our property line. (It does not follow the driveway, but it is just to the right.) It is our contention our neighbor chooses to dump his skimmer basket in his front yard just to the left of the property line. It is also our belief that our neighbor hopes the wind blows the leaves into our yard. And, if he is really fortunate and cheers the leaves on really loudly, he might be rewarded by some of the leaves he rescued from the skimmer arriving in our garage! (In the spring/late-winter when the same tree drops lots of seeds, we also find similar piles of seeds in the front yard.)

The same neighbor has been known to mow our thin strip of grass to the left of our driveway, so I am trying to remember this as I fail to find any rational way to explain his “skimmer-dumping” habit. I usually have to satisfy myself with thinking it is their teenage son who has become frustrated doing the extra pool maintenance. In his teenage mind full of distortions and perceived unfairness, the dumping of the skimmer trash on the edge of our yard is the only fair way to resolve the incredible misfortune he has been forced to endure.

In other ways, the neighbor is completely fine. He does wave or engage in brief conversations if we are both out at the same time. (I have been known to wait a little longer in the house before going outside to give him time to leave. Their driveway is on the other side of the house, so this is not a very frequent phenomenon.) While realizing I am not a perfect neighbor, I will have to be content “hoping” he treats his other neighbor better than he treats us. If the worst he is going to give me is something biodegradable, I will be grateful. And, if the worst I give him is a little bit of a tongue lashing via a blog, then maybe we are about even…

Orange Laptop

Although I like my technology, I don’t stay on the front edge of the technology curve. I have had a couple of laptops. I bought an Ipad over 3 years ago before my wife and I went to Europe, but my most recent addition seems to get the most attention.

My son got a Chromebook for school this year. He enjoyed its features and its ability to be so easily mobile. I put it on my list of things I would like to have sometime soon. And, as our exchange student needed to borrow my Ipad for the first few months she was here, the Chromebook moved up the wishlist considerably. I tried to make one of my old laptops work, but it did not possess the mobility I needed. As my birthday approached, my wife went ahead and greenlighted the purchase of the Chromebook. So, I purchased it and handed it over to my wife to add to my gift stash. (She got a cruise for her significant birthday while i got a laptop…)

Even though it is “only” a Chromebook, I did personalize it with an orange shell. While the shell allows me to tilt the computer to assure proper typing angle, the non-screen orange shell-side does catches quite a few eyes. While I was at Panera recently, a little boy could not take his eyes off of it. He kept turning around in his highchair. His mother kept adjusting the chair to make it more difficult for him to see it. Not to be deterred, he kept cranking his little head around to have his eyes tickled by the neon orange “TV” without a changing picture.

My daughters and others have also commented on my orange laptop. It looks kind of like a Macbook. The orange cover distracts and allows anyone looking at it to just think about how something that color must be cool. Cool or not, it is a great little laptop. If it leads to a few conversations and a few more ideas for postings, it will have more than exceeded my expectations.

Morning Glory

After a couple of cloudy days and one VERY rainy day, it was good to be able to go outside on a walk Sunday morning!

The sky seemed a little bluer and the animals (upright and those on all fours) seemed to a little happier to greet the morning. Every living thing seemed to be celebrating the bright new day with its own special glow. (Maybe not the longhorns…)

The fall color is fleeting at best in Texas, but if you are patient and lower your expectations (Midwestern fall expectations will set you up for disappointment), you can find trees with fantastic color. And, although it is difficult to find an entire tree line with eye-popping color, the right perspective can allow you to see the beauty a Texas fall offers.

The Internet Timeout

As I have tried to get away from the distractions of life and the responsibilities associated with my various roles, I have been finding the available wireless internet access points that are free. While I am inclined to at least get a drink prior to getting comfortable, I am pretty sure I have seen the guy sneak into McDonald’s and pull his computer out without having any qualms whatsoever.

The timeout probably does not effect most normal people. If you are surfing, eating your meal and leaving once the meal is completed, or just stopping for a quick snack, you may not encounter this dreaded phenomenon. The slayer of a great ideas and the denier of great thoughts! What is it? The “free wireless boot”!

I experienced this today while enjoying my tea at McDonald’s. I realized I probably overstayed my welcome, but I was not warned or given any grace in the matter. I went to publish something I worked hard to craft only to find my connection was not very interested in staying connected to me. The laptop (a chromebook, so I don’t know all of its nuances) said the wifi was present. All of my tinkering and attempting to salvage the situation resulted in the perfect edits ending up as unsaved characters on an otherwise compliant screen. I have since tried to publish it, but I am convinced my memory and editing skills were far less superior when I tackled it later in the day.

My Panera shove was not nearly as disastrous. Although my wifi connection and I temporarily lost interest in each other, I was able to rekindle the relationship before anything ephemeral or “brilliant” was lost for the ages. (If it is not obvious, my tongue was firmly planted in my cheek as I typed this.)

Certainly I can try and find a muse residing where the internet is always free and non-judgmental. I could even attempt to forego all of my responsibilities when my office door is closed. However, since I don’t trust myself and my unceasing efforts to assign blame and avoid the capturing of even one good thought, I am likely to continue to seek inspiration beyond the cluttered desk and boring walls of my self-proclaimed den. My den is a place where ideas may not go to die, but they certainly to not live as freely or as vibrantly as when they are grown while drinking someone else’s coffee or tea.

Bleeders Can Be Choosers

As I prepared to punch the nearly quarterly clock at “Vampires R Us”, I was soon to find out my blood letting of choice was not available! A compromise was reached, and this is how it went….

The same pleasant lady greeted me at the front desk at Carter Blood Care. (I have periods of blood giving frequency. Presently, I am trying hard to give at every opportunity. My favorite giving of choice is “double red”. They pump blood out and then pump it back in after the red blood cells are removed) My goal is to only submit myself to a needle every 16 weeks. This gives me the satisfaction of doing good and only having to deal with the annoying screening process as infrequently as possible. Less annoying means I don’t make excuses for doing something good. Our encounter went like this:

As the greeter got me to sign in and gathered the necessary IDs, she asked me,"What    blood type are you?"
Without hesitation, I said, "O+". (I didn't say "plus sign", it was just easier to
type.)
"And, what type of donation did you want to do today?", she inquired.
"Double red.", I said without hesitation.
With a slight pause she stated, "We are not taking double red for O+ today, but we can use your platelets or whole blood. Can I go ahead and get you going on a platelet      donation?"
Now, my turn to hesitate. "How long does it take?"
"It may take up to 2 hours.", she informed me.
"Since I haven't done platelets before, I guess I can do it once.", I replied with     additional hesitation.
"Great! With platelets you can come back and give again in 2 weeks. (Note my previous  comments about quarterly time clock punching.) Have you taken aspirin in the past 48   hours?"
"Unfortunately, I have.", I mumbled.(Aspirin thins the blood & frustrates the platelet gatherers.)
"Then, lets go ahead and get you in for whole blood today!"
"Okay. At least I will get out quickly.", I said as I acquiesced.

The rest of the donation went pretty uneventfully. My “screener” had to spend some extra time making sure our cruise in the Caribbean did not give me a “fail” for today’s donation. One woman I met in the reception area was there for “mommy time” while doing platelets. She was trying to sell me on how great it is doing platelets. She brings her own movies and just enjoys herself for 2 hours. Unfortunately, while I was giving, I saw her walk out after leaving the screener’s door. For some reason, she didn’t make it past the screening process. Maybe an aspirin or a tattoo or a fail on any of those other crazy questions regarding where you have been, who you have been with, or what you have done to your body lately.

After meeting my “blood collection technician”, I couldn’t help but ask if she was pregnant. (I guess it takes guts to ask this of the woman poking you with a needle, but sometimes I just need to know. The same question at a garage sale we hosted did not turn out as well…) She answered “yes”, and we had a brief discussion on, “If you are going to have a toddler boy with long hair you should at least dress them in something not gender-neutral to save ‘friendly’ people from any embarrassment when asking what you call your daughter.” Since it only took 8 minutes to fill the bag, it did not allow for much additional conversation. Once the bag was full, she gave a tug on the needle and asked me to put a little pressure on the “entry point”. The blue, stretchy wrap she used to circumnavigate my arm had a duel purpose. Besides holding the gauze in place over the wound, the “blue, stretchy wrap” roll doubled as my squeezy toy I was instructed to squeeze every few seconds while my blood was filling the bag.

It ruined my day to be told I would need to limit my tobacco and alcohol usage, but some how I found the strength to rise off the gurney to engage in the final part of the ritual – the snack. Once the snack and liquid were consumed (They asked I sit 10-15 minutes before leaving. Really, more of a guideline then a rule.), I had a brief dialogue with the nurses closest to the snack area.

"You feeling okay?, she asked.
"Considering it is my first time giving, I guess I am okay.", I said while taking a    step with a slight deliberate stutter in it...almost a tripping motion.
"Could almost give in your sleep, huh?", she replied in a non-concerned manner.
"Pretty much", I said as I tripped the rest of the way out the door. (not really)

The greeter/good-byer couldn’t help but ask if I would schedule my next appointment. I don’t blame her persistence. However, I am the kind of guy who digs in his heels if he has to continue saying, “No” to the same question. Since they didn’t want my blood in its desired form today, I did have some concern whether they would even want my old, boring O+ on January 15th. As good as it feels to give blood to help others, bleeders can be choosers.

Walking Down Life's Road With Andy