I don't care who ya are...

driving home from church yesterday
4 boys, about 11-12 years old
pull out in front of me on their skateboards.

These guys are looking pretty cool

The one in back goes over a pothole
skate board flies up in one direction
boy flies up in the other.
He lands squaw on his back
rolls around a bit
and starts to cry.

I don't care who ya are - that's funny

a commentary on church

(lyrics to She's So Blue by Frank Hart who among many other things leads worship at my church.

It’s a stained glass world
And it doesn’t come cheap
But it didn’t cost her a nickel
She walked in right out off of the street
And she sat down
And she looked around
Some words are truth
Some words are lies
She thinks knows the difference
But look her right into the eyes of her façade
You just can't win an argument with God
She tries so hard
But you just can't win an argument with God
When she finds that it's hard to believe
In everything she knows is true
Lead her back to The Way
She can believe in everything that leads to You
She's so blue
Well it all sounds right
But it all goes wrong
Standing on the science
With her faith under a microscope too long
And that’s not where it belongs
It can’t be true
She knows better than that
There’s no way she can believe it
It would be completely wrong and pretty odd
To think she has a bigger heart than God
She tries so hard
But you just can't win an argument with God
It’s a tear-stained world
And it doesn’t come cheap
But it doesn’t cost a nickel
If she has faith and can believe when it is hard, find a way to know it in your heart
She tries so hard
But you’ll never win an argument with God.
She tries too hard
She's so blue

life

I love my life. It's not perfect and it seems to be mostly an uphill battle. just when you think you have reached a summit, you see a bigger, scarier part of the mountain waiting for you.
still and yet, I love my life.
Some of the most wonderful, genuine and witty people surround me and I can call them friends. Not only that I can call on them for anything and they will be there. My beautiful wife and most precious daughter are absolutely the apple of my eye. I could not have dreamed for a more perfect family.
I live in a place that is the closest thing to heaven on earth. home of armadillos, shiner beer and willie nelson.
Most importantly I have a Creator, Sustainer and Savior that loves me and guides me and doesn't give up on me.
Even when a HUGE case blows up BIG!!! and threatens to ruin Christmas and Thanksgiving and once and for all put us in the poor house... I can still say that I LOVE MY LIFE!

BLOGGOD

article on FOXNEWS about Christian Blogging and a Conference for Godbloggers. This was certainly the idea as I started blogging, to share my faith as I go through life. I feel like that has been tremendously lacking in my posts and just in general. I really want to change that and begin to live out my faith more at home, at work and here on my blog.

Hire me to cheer for your team

my services are now for sale. Apparently God has ordained all my teams to kick butt. The Longhorns. The Astros. The Spurs. Heck, even the Cowboys are getting their act together.

Prices will be determined based on my loathing of your team.

Dreams of a Chainsaw

Alicia and I have finally been able to take in a hurricane evacuee like we had first set out to do. If you remember back, some entries ago, I mentioned that we were wanting to help out a single mom who was displaced to the hurricane and now we are doing just that!

When Rita blew in and knocked out Beumont and Port Arthur, Myrtle (aka Mimi) had no place to stay and needed a home to refuge in. Fortunately, Mimi's granddaughters did not live too far away, one in San Antonio and the other in good old Sugar Land. So after a brief stint in SA, Alicia's gramma (and her little dog too!) came to stay with us until they can get Beaumont up and running again.

We are absolutely blessed to get to spend this time with Mimi and she is just a wonderful lady and a get-along to go-along kind of a person - which is some what uncommon in old people. call me a hater but it's true. She has been pretty worried about damage done to her house and her town, so on Saturday I drove with her to Beaumont and surveyed the damage. Fortunately, her house was absolutely fine. Zero damage. Every freaking tree in the county did not fair so well. Driving through there was pretty amazing. Awesome in the terrible sense of the word. Gigantic trees pushed over like it was nothing. Some were snapped in half, but most were uprooted. Trees as long as 3 house lengths, laying on the ground with their tremendous root system sticking out of the ground. This story repeated everywhere. Tree after tree after tree consumed people yards and crowded into the streets. (I guess what they say about George Bush hating the environment IS true) Amazingly, we saw very little structural damage compared to the Ent-terrifying tree damage.
The power was still off in almost all the area (even for the white people!) and our biggest task was cleaning out Mimi's refrigerator and freezers. You know how old people keep their house stocked with food...
Imagine a freezer packed to overflowing with meat and chicken (all raw) sitting in a hot box for almost 2 weeks. Maggots crawling everywhere. Blood dripping on everything. The sweetish smell of rotting meat stuck in your nostrils and on your hands. I did my task without looking at everything too closely but the smell almost overcame me twice. I can't write gross enough words to describe that smell. A mortician I'm not.
The local radio was taking in calls all day and dispensing information. The biggest complaint/most common was 1. that it was impossible to nail down a correct number for the red cross and 2. FEMA was evaluating income levels before dispensing food stamps unlike with Katrina - I guess the government really doesn't help those who help themselves.

Highway 90

have you ever had TOO much to blog about? that's me right now. the whole hurricane and gridlock experience. getting back to work in the midst of a vacant town. work finally taking an upswing. taking on a cool part time job at crosspoint. i am pregnant with ideas and thoughts - rants and philosophical questions. but i am completely incapable of writing them all down. too much time to unjumble my thoughts and write them down coherently and it would be too long of a narrative if i did unjumble anyway.

at the same time, i feel like that is the next entry i should include. why throw something urbane up here when i have interesting and funny stuff?

because i have a freakin' life and i don't have a flippin' clue how to share all of the vomit up in my head. so with that being said, i'm going to skip that whole chapter. but i will give you a mental picture that i think surmises the entire episode: driving through east Texas at 3:30 in the morning, hopped up on Dr. Pepper and Starbucks Double Shot. Surrounded by 2.5 million of my closest Houston friends. Drinking my only food: Slim fast shakes, which, if you don't know, act like a diuretic. With absolutely no restrooms in sight.

does it get any better than this?

shooting skeet all day, taking a break to try my hand at bow hunting, talked about God and how to raise a family, drank Crown under a huge oak tree and stared up at a full Texas moon.
Malin shot a shotgun for the very first and second time, she made new friends and gave me lots of hugs.
life is good

You've come along way baby

I think it takes a lot of guts for NARAL to use the term "baby" in any of their slogans. But I guess some people have no shame.
Basically, 4-5 pharmacists have refused to sell the "morning after pill" to some women based on moral convictions and NARAL is having a cow over it.
get it...NARAL... giving birth... you know, because they love abortion. Oh, is that tacky? I guess only conservatives are supposed to have class.
What does truly get me is that the byline to "You've come a long way, baby" is "but how much further do we have to go?"
What do these people want?
abortion for anyone, at anytime, for free. regardless of age, or length of pregnancy. Generations from now, people will view this practice as abhorrent, in the same vein as slavery and genocide. As science takes a closer look at the beginnings of life, abortion rights activists will appear more and more barbaric.

rumination

something strange has been taking place in the Maroney household as of late: I have actually been doing some thinking.
Living here in Houston, puts us in the Katrina aftermath. Not as victims but as either participants or rubbernecks. A train wreck of humanity just exploded on Houston's doorstep and people have to decide how they are going to react to it. Similarly, in San Antonio and Baton Rouge and multiple other sites to a degree.
Let it be said that New Orleans and even Louisiana has allowed itself to be a cesspool of sin, poverty and corruption for generations. That it has now become a virtual cesspool is a sad irony. New Orleans should by all reason and intellect be the trade and oil capitol of the United States but it's hand-out mentality (one hand for a bribe the other for welfare) has closed the door to this possibility. Now these victims of New Orleans and survivors of Katrina are here.
I am ashamed to say that I have watched as Houston has thrown open the flood gates of compassion to these poor families. Donating food, money and clothes. Volunteering to work the night shift at the dome or Reliant Center because they work 8 to 5 at their real job. And I have watched.
My parents are part of Concordia's effort in San Antonio. In fact, they both went down to help out in person. My dad unloading donations and handing them out and my mom as a ad-hoc grief counselor.
Alicia and I have talked about ways that we can help and we want to help a single mom get back on her feet with housing and finding a job. will update as this gets underway.

the other issue that is pressing home for me is a longing to be serving full time in ministry. Granted, there is a lot about my job that I simply hate. Granted, it is a daily struggle, one that I am not sure I will win. But beneath all of that and stronger is the desire to put all of this effort, energy and 70 hours a week into something that matters, something that makes a difference in people's lives. not just trying to make a buck, get the sale and move on. I do not and will not approach my job in a way that sees only what's in it for me. But beyond doing my job with morals and looking after their financial needs, I want to look after people's spiritual needs.
These are my thoughts as of late. the more I think and the more I pray, the stronger they get. In many ways, I feel like I have found one piece of a puzzle and am groping around for more pieces, not sure if there are any more pieces.

It's almost not fair

Fresh from their 2005 championship against the Pist-ons, the small market nobodies went and picked up Michael Finley. Doing so, they beat out Shaq who was personally handling the recruiting for the Heat, who were able to offer quite a bit more cha-ching. In the end though, Finley was more interested in the bling. Apparently, the poor deluded superstar thinks that the Spurs are set to grab their 4th ring. Obviously, all of the press and attention has gone to his head. I mean what chances do the Spurs really have...
All they did was steal another great foreign player in Fabricio Oberto (post), add Nick Van Exel to back up Tony Parker (point) and now Finley as a dynamite backup for Manu Ginobli.
Hold on... am I crazy or did the Reigning NBA Champion Spurs just firm up their 3 week spots with great players?
Oh yeah... did I mention that Finley turned down $5 million with the Heat to play for $2.5 with the Spurs... Sandbox Recruiting Lesson #1 for Shaq: don't be a jerk your entire career and expect people to play with you.

What is greatest?

Have to give a shout out to my Boys in Big D! Especially now that we have some D! I was listening to the pre-game and the game on the radio Saturday night and there is nothing that makes me more agitated than having to sit through Houston's whiney-cry baby, excuse making, slandering homer announcers on 610.
I know the announcers in San Antonio were way biased for the Spurs but these guys absolutely take it to a new level. After a full hour of trashing the "Ka-boys" they are quick to drop in a "and if we lose, this game doesn't matter...".
It was sweeter than Boones Farm Strawberry Hill, listening to their voices drop and have to report each of Carrs' interceptions, and apologize for saying that Roy Williams is decapitating recievers. I thought my joy was complete as the game wrapped up Saturday night but I was treated this morning to a special post game morsel. The get-along gang on AM 610 were whining about how Dallas fans were being mean and rubbing their noses in the loss, and Texans fans were jumping ship.

Ahhhhhh. the sweet smell of defeat. Or as Conan would describe what is greatest "CRUSH YOUR ENEMY. SEE HIM DRIVEN BEFORE YOU. HEAR THE LAMENTATIONS OF THE WOMEN."

I know it's just pre-season, but listening to the lamentations of those women on Sports Talk is just too good to not comment on.

write it out

I remember as a kid my family went up to see Uncle Richard in Dallas. Growing up, my family rarely went on vacations where tents weren't involved and Coleman stoves didn't heat our meals. But our Dallas visit was different. Uncle Richard had a huge, fancy house with a gigantaur pool. This was back when pools were the absolute end-all, be-all of childhood existence.
My sister and I played and swam and Uncle Richard morphed into "the monster of the deep" a dangerous being that would well up from the bottom of the pool, grab kids and fling them across the pool. Everything was very relaxed and easy going.
While on our visit, he even sprang for tickets for our whole family to go to Sesame Street Place (knock off on Disney Land only newer, smaller and Big Bird)
He was loved by the entire family and although he was my grandfather's brother he was as much a fixture as any immeadiate family.
Richard never married. he has always had the same friend for as long as I have known him. While there were definite "issues" between my grandfather and the questions revolving around my uncle's lifestyle, he has always been accepted and loved. that went equally for his friend as well, who would accompany him to family get togethers.
The intent of this post is not to bash or to make generalizations but it is to question and grieve.
Does the homosexual lifestyle generally lead to the type of isolation that my departed Uncle felt? The two instances that I have seen personally have been very similar. Individuals that are accepted and loved by their family but have chosen for one reason or another to separate themselves and live apart from a community of people who care for them. Is this symptomatic of the entire gay and lesbian community?
I would venture to say that a fair amount of people have no choice but instead have been cast out of family environments (or because of past encounters, envision family as hostility). Two other factors in this equation would be committed relationships and parenthood.
Before I get bashed over the head, I will admit to very little knowledge of the GLBT community. Looking to have a conversation here and wonder out loud a bit.

new kid in town

check out Matt and Lisa's new site. Pretty Ava Elise...glad she takes after her mom

life cycle

experienced death and life yesterday.
I was able to witness a beautiful new baby being baptized by her daddy, mom fighting back tears watching on. both of them committing their lives and the life of their new child to God. As Alicia and I looked on we committed ourselves to this child and to helping her grow in faith.
Watching a miracle take place and so much love focused on such a small, little person.
Driving home, I was talking with my dad and I found out that my uncle (really my dad's uncle) passed away. It turns out that he had a stroke about a week ago and went into the hospital and that he never regained consciousness and eventually died.
No one visited him in the hospital and he was cremated and interned within a days time. No funeral.
My family recieved a letter that he passed away and that contributions could be made to his favorite charity. This was all done according to his own requests. He requested that if something should happen to him that no family would be contacted until after everything was taken care of.
Everything is going through my head at once and I want to share about it and I think it is important to share this but while I have words, I don't know how to put it all down right now and that may take some time. Not due to being emotionally overwhelmed or because I am in some deep greiving because neither are true. I just don't know how to put it all to paper.

my wife made me write this

I think it's funny to do a search on your own name and see who the other people are that share your name. What they look like and what they do. it's a way to size yourself up and see how you're doing in life.
So when I found the blondheaded cheeseball in the picture on the right, I had to paste him up there.
411: he's a car salesman in Canada and his brother works at the same dealership. His brother's name is Lance.
When I explained this inside joke to Alicia she just looked at me quizzically. I used to think that when she looked at me like that, she was trying to figure out what I had just said. Now I realize she is trying to figure out why in the world she ever married me.

passmore capacitor

when you join a church, you always hear "the best way to get to know people is to get involved, start helping out". heck, I've even said it. while it did ring true, it always had more of a "we need volunteers and new people are willing to take the crappy jobs" kinda feel to it.
but last night, while working on the set of the new series "Parenting in the Chocolate Factory" it struck me that this theorum is exactly true. It was only when we started serving and helping that we started to make friends and meet people on a personal level.
whether it is putting up chairs or hanging backdrop, VBS or communion set up. It has been fun getting back into the swing of church stuff. Spending time with people over a Taco Bell burrito or kicking peoples' butts in every game known to mankind. there is something to this fellowship thing. Having relationships with people that are centered in serving Christ and others.
I used to always feel a little guilty about asking (begging) people to serve in ministry, (probably because they would say stuff like "I helped, now will you leave me alone?" or "Fine, I'll spend one more night away from my family") but I realize what an opportunity it is to be given a chance serve. For most, it may be the only chance that they get to relax, laugh and enjoy other people's company.

destiny's child

interesting how life makes it's twists and turns, exactly when you think you have everything figured out, another twist shows up in the road you are on. Strangely, the norm for our path has become change and movement, while permanence and roots have become very forgeign.
Although I am a very "flow with the Schmo" person, I also lived in 1 house from birth to age 21. I knew my neighborhood and neighbors. I knew their neighbors and their relatives' neighbors. Watching the same local sportscaster for twenty years and even sharing the same barbershop with him (my claim to fame). This anchor growing up contrasted with our Odyssey of the last 4 years has produced if not unease, definitely some longing for durable relationships.
And when we first moved down to Sugar Land we had absoluely no plan or desire to sink our roots down. Zero. Zilch. Nada. It was a year and half and out. Then we start to serve and help at our church. We make friends there. Work starts to go...well, better. So we start having conversations like: I guess it wouldn't suck too bad if we had to stay a little bit longer. Then the talk turned more to "i hope we don't have to move within...such and such time/months/years".
So I guess that there aren't any startling revelations here, except that we are planning on settling in. which, for this family of troubadours, is a little bit startling.

a tale of 2 daddies

we're smack in the middle of VBS in Katy, Texas. Alicia is in charge of games (not just the usual psychological games she plays) and I run herd on the volunteers. I love VBS. I love the panic and confusion of Monday and the well-oiled machine hum of Friday. I love bringing order out of chaos and giving direction to the lost. Although I am not naturally a high energy person, I do enjoy reaching the fever pitch of excitable kids screaming at the top of their lungs.
Amazingly, we had too many volunteers yesterday. Although we had 377 kids (congregation member size 400) we continued to receive volunteers until stations started returning the people I sent to them.
Towards the end of the opening melee, two dads came up to me at different times and said they would be able to help. Not wanting to miss the opportunity for a) the kids to have a adult male leader and b) the dads to have fun serving and being needed, I placed them in already staffed groups, hoping that they would find a way to help out.
I watched from a distance as they awkwardly tried to fit in. That's hard when you're either 3 feet taller than everyone else or 200 pounds heavier, both wearing business clothes. I worried for a moment about whether it would work out or if they would hate the experience and never return to another church again. But then some kid threw up and I forgot about my 2 dads.
Later that day, I was walking by the craft station and I noticed one of the dads working with the kids and I stopped over to see how everything was going. his words: "thanks so much for giving me the opportunity! the kids are so great...they just jumped right in and accepted me. it's mr. c this...and mr. c that...I will have to work my schedule but I gonna be here every day this week!"
After the closing daddy number 2 came by and introduced me to his kids. he was beaming and you could tell he had been touched emotionally by his experienced "I don't see how I can make it before 6, but I'm gonna be here every day!"
So completely amazing how the Holy Spirit works. How good serving and helping others through Christian love opens up chambers of your heart and even heals areas you didn't know were hurting.

Can't Lose

This last week I've been playing a lot of different games with friends (i.e. Settlers of Cattan, Farkle, Cards) I freakin' can't lose. I was winning like I was paid to do it. like it was my job.
Since the majority of those wins were against some new friends of ours, Alicia keeps telling me that I needed to lose a couple or Matt and Lisa wouldn't be our friends anymore. So last night I split our farkle games 1 and 1. that's right... purely intentional loss. just threw the game in order to keep the tenuous friendship in tact.

Or not... In Maroney genetics, no friendship or marriage supercedes winning. Win at all cost, no matter the casualties and no matter the insignificance of the game.

As kids, my dad would teach us card games and once we had caught on, there was no mercy given and none asked for. cut throat games and rub the loser's face in it. mom would complain and tell my dad that he was being mean to us but this was to no effect. spades, hearts, gin, poker, you name it.

In today's world of everybody wins, nobody loses, this "must win" mentality is outrageous. Even in P.E., kids learn to play games that foster no competition and no score is kept. What will happen to this generation of young people when they run smack into the real world like fattened veal calves into the butcher. Graded papers in purple and green ink so that their padded grades carry no stress. Test anxiety? somebody holds their hand while they take it and points out areas that they overlook. What kind of sissyfied America are we going to be living in?
what happened to pull yourself up by your bootstraps? Today we ask "what circumstances led to you being upside down?" and then we try to figure out how we can help that person have the same luxuries that right-side up people have.
Freaking Pull Yourself Up! Overcome whatever weakness you were dealt. Overcome your situation and learn to rely on yourself. Stop looking for someone to feel sorry for you.

Lower Elements Police RECON Sighting

Apparently colder temperatures affect how the brain functions and limits all logic and reason. You gotta read this article about Icelanders and their quirky elf sightings. Where is Artemis Fowl when you need him?

naivete

With my forray into the secular world, from safe within the confines of churchdom, the biggest shock is the amount of infidelity. Getting to know co-workers in both jobs has been a little too enlightening.
I guess I was pretty naive.

huh. me being naive. who would've thunk?

some time around midnight

This is my quandry: I get off work around midnight tonight and Alicia and I are scheduled to do our turn at the prayer vigil from 1 to 2 am. Now, is it better to try and buy my copy of the newest Harry Potter before or after the prayer vigil?
Of course I'm just joking. There's no way I could grab a copy in that short of time. the lines would be way too long.
My take on Senor Harry is that the books are a pretty good reflection of our times. I don't think that they are the scourge of western civ nor are they going to draw an entire generation of young people from God. The books success does point out the lack of quality literature today, truly good books that capture kids imagination, take them to a far away land and introduce them to these mystical beings called foil characters, multiple plot lines, imagery and depth.
Imagine a kid grabbing a 500 page book and wrestling with themes like good and evil and personal responsibility. Unselfish love and inner turmoil. Fighting against personal demons to do what is right. Going into issues that are not clear cut and easy to label, but instead require soul searching and seeking out advice that has been seasoned with age.
Now imagine if those books were written by modern Christian writers. Instead of the paltry, how to books that are churned out daily (how to be a Christian in Middle School, how not to kiss boys, how to be a cool teenage witness etc) The fiction that does come out is wierd, incorrect and usually pretty lame. but most of all it is written only for Christian audiences with Christian friends to talk about at their Christian gatherings, where they can spend their Christian money to buy more Christian trinkets.
Similar to most of the Christian music out, the youth literature deals with a very whitewashed life and fails to capture the imagination or spirit of modern youth culture.
Gripe and Complain about harry pot-head but maybe we should be trying to find the next Tolkein or Lewis instead.

what do we do now?

we have entered the dead zone.
when the best thing on tv is a movie on ABC Family that has been out for 5 years...you know that you have gone through the time space continuum into another dimension, one that has neither football, nor basketball to watch and as if it couldn't get any worse, baseball doesn't get exciting until the fall and what does that leave us with? reading Dave Campbell and waiting. remembering what it was like in high school as July was mid-way through and you knew that 2-a-days and 3-a-days were just around the corner and the hot Texas sun is an every day reminder of what is to come. And yet, as much as the sweat and vomiting were unwelcome, and the sweet AC would be missed, a part of you felt incomplete. No bruises to show anybody. No game film to review. No opponent to practice for. Strange things that had become a part of your everyday routine, so that they became necessary, natural, needed.
To have a coach guiding, directing and prodding you on. Setting a clear path and a well defined victory.
As I get closer to 30, and adulthood becomes more real and less an aspiration, I realize it is a lot like Off-Season. Self-directedness becomes so important. Setting your own goals and keeping to the path that You have set out. Knowing that the Coach has given you direction and you will be held accountable for staying on the path He set for you, but that sometimes it feels you are on your own.
The sense that The Game is ahead of you, but in actuality, the struggle is right now.
I know that football-faith analogies are cliche' and i did not intend to write about anything except that Sports/TV sucks right now but couldn't help but go where the train wreck of thought led me.

miss me

life has been too real lately. work has been too much of...well too much work. sleep has been few and far between and stress: overly abundant.
I think back to my youth ministry days when I would feel overwhelmed or (laughing) overworked and...wow. how life changes when your paycheck depends directly on your activity, your hustle, YOUR results. going from work to sleep to work and then have the weekend to look forward to more work. heck of a way to go through life. slushies and starbucks and crazy middle school kids sounds pretty good.
actually, things are starting to work out. you make enough cold calls. you meet with enough people. you throw enough stuff into the funnel, things do start to come out the other end. In a lot of ways, I feel like people's prayers for me are being answered. Not just that, but the kindness and caring that people have shown has been blessed and multiplied. I am truly grateful.
I am pumped because we have new friends. maybe our first friends down here in the land of cane. Matt and Lisa. Matt is the new pastor intern at Crosspoint and it turns out he knows a lot of the same people I do. I hope he doesn't ask them about me though. Might want to wait till they have more skin in the game before they really get to know us y'know.
We have played Settlers of Cattan together and introduced him to Shiner Bock and Guy Clark. They are an answer to prayers.
He is in charge of the communion service called Stauros and he wants to do a lot of great things with it. Give it a pomo feel. I am totally pumped. Alicia and I are going to help with it and I am going to be a part of the planning. I feel like even though my body and even my mind is extremely tired, God is waking up my spirit, bringing hope and faith.
I have talked with him and pastor bill about blogging and they are thinking about it. looking forward to linking to them if they take the plunge.
In other news, I have been trying to drop those LB's. Doing the whole "shake for breakfast, a shake for lunch and then a healthy dinner" Needless to say, I am not an extremely happy camper around 5:30. I start to salivate when I see small woodland creatures and plump co-workers. I think it's working. But then, we don't have a scale anymore (that's one of the downsides to moving 5 times in 4 years - you lose crap) so I really don't have any clue. For all I know, I could be getting fatter.
Sorry for all the inconsistency. Flood or Famine. That's how I roll.

to grackel or not to grackel

driving home from church yesterday and a grackel flies right into the road in front of our car and dies.
Check that. before even the impact with the road, the aforementioned grackel was in fact dead. It hits and rolls - dead as old grandma.
Instinctively, I swerve to miss the recently deceased and watch as it is flattened underneath the tires of the Lumina behind me.

Winner for most random experience of the day.

the little people

I have found a common thread for my week and it is little people. By that I don't mean inconsequential or unimportant person, but instead those who are otherwise referred to as dwarfs or midgets. please excuse my un-pc-ness.
started off by getting a $9 tip from a guy named Shorty (who was) and then my TV gets over-run by little people.
And no it was not another Wizard of Oz/Mini Me Marathon.

We recently bought a friend's TV (so that we could upgrade to a bigger screen) and then last weekend, I noticed a thin fuzzy line at the bottom of the picture. No worries, just a line.
Soon the line gets bigger. Next the picture starts to shrink.
Then one day, everybody on my TV has the proportions of a little person.
Watching the game last night was hideous. little Tim versus little Ben. Little Rasheed pumping his fists in the air. Little Manu flailing on the ground. Little Hubie with his little ashen face.
All the while soaking in the irony of our Big Screen Upgrade.

Viva Los Spurs!

and can i have the change?

Saturday night taking pizza to this lady, it's a $21.23 bill. when I get there she is outside smoking and runs inside to get her money. she shows back up at the door and hands me a twenty dollar bill, a one dollar bill and a quarter. She then asks "and can I have the change?"

Later that night, around 11:30, I'm taking a $50 order to a house full of drunks. They guy who ordered only has a hundred and drivers aren't allowed to carry more than $20. he looks at me and asks "what should I do?" I reply "well, mr. common sense I think you should go break that 100 and come back and I'll give you the pizzas."

people are funny and I just laugh - because that's how I roll

a butt-print no more

typical weekend for the couch in our living room involves my fat butt firmly attached to it, a cold Lone Star attached to my left hand and the remote control in my right. Sports to Guy Movies to Sports. This routine would be unbrokend were it not for church, lawn mowing and the rare shower and teeth brushing. And so goes the weekend.

For a change of pace and more importantly, some extra cash, I started delivering pizzas Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. I figured it was an easy way to pay back those student loans and maybe drop some lb's in the process. What I didn't expect to recieve was the wonderful source of material.

Just a teaser for things to come...
I'm doing a ride along with this guy finishing up college. White as white can be. He points out this Escalade that was jacked up higher than Michael Irvin. He lays it out for me "man...that's dope! I'm gonna get me a Escalade like dat! That's how I roll."

Nice guy, but there is a difference between a gang-banger from Compton and a short white kid from Greatwood.

was this anyone i know?

Star Wars dorks hurt themselves with fake lightsabers.

save for the wrath of K

I would not have anything to talk about...save for the wrath of K
I would not be posting anything...save for the wrath of K
I would be heading home right now...save for the wrath of K

two things before I do just that:
First, PHX-SA series is by far the best this year. The Spurs are being challenged and are responding like champions. those young bucks for Phoenix are coming at them and it makes for good inside-out basketball. The Spurs could definitely be playing better defense and the neighbors are tired of hearing me yell "PUT A HAND IN HIS FACE!!!". But it's been great games.
Final reason this series is better than Seattle and Denver: better looking fans... Dang those Seattle fans were ugly!

Second, I'm starting this 30 day test thing. Bear with me here... I wrote down my goal on one side of a 3 X 5 card. It reads "BE A GREAT FATHER AND HUSBAND". On the other side it reads "ASK AND YOU SHALL RECIEVE, SEEK AND YOU SHALL FIND, KNOCK AND THE DOOR SHALL BE OPEN TO YOU". I am going to spend the next 30 days focused on that goal and not allowing any negative thoughts to take over and kick me down. Hourly, I'm going to check myself to make sure that I am still on track and if I get off track, I'm going to start the 30 days over again. We'll see how it goes.
I know that the above verses are specifically speaking about Jesus being given to you when you seek him. But I think, as a Christian, this goal IS seeking more of Jesus. Seeking him to be more apart of my relationship with my wife and daughter.

who's important?

talking with a guy who is on the cusp of getting married and it never fails that no matter how independent a man is, when it comes down to popping the question, guys need advice. face it, marriage proposal is scarier than Jack Bauer with a frayed electric cord.

So we sat and talked over some Dos Equis.

He is more than ready to marry this girl. He knows she loves him and what's more he knows he loves her. No doubt in his mind that they are ready to make (and have made) sacrifices for each other. Financial stability not an issue at all and they are already sharing an apartment together.

His main concern is being able to give her a ring that is 3 months of his salary. Big Rock. Shiny Metal. Whole Shmear.

I know this guy and I know his heart and I understand that he wants to show his future bride how much he loves her and the ring is a big part of that for him. He wouldn't want for his bride-to-be to have anything to be embarassed of, instead have everything to be proud of when it comes to their relationship.

My advice to him: His commitment to her and vow in marriage is more important than the size and price of a ring. Let her be proud that you are proud to call her wife and that she can hold her head up in front of her parents, her church, her God. A woman's heart is not bent on gold and diamonds, those are a fallback position when they don't think their true treasure of love and respect can be obtained.
ladies, call me out if I'm wrong. fellas, pay attention.

...but i still love technology...

a tribute to my wife who has had the distinct displeasure of being married to me for four years as of today.

You are a saint with either a strong desire for punishment or incredibly bad taste in men. maybe both.

As the wordsmith Adam Sandler once said "Sorry I'm not better looking"

On the road

Every Monday and Tuesday night I find myself driving down a certain stretch of I-10.
I-10...that beautiful tribute to frontierism and trade. A "no-frills" approach to traveling, this highway won't slow you down with pretty scenery or wildflowers. Even the gas stations and eateries know that you need to get back on the road, so they avoid delaying you with the temptations of comfort and sanitary restrooms.
Eagle Lake, Schulenberg, and Columbus, I know thee well.
Gonzalez, and Luling, you are my friends.
Frank's and Buc-Ees, what would I do without you?
Your urine soaked restrooms, smoke-laden hallways and grease-stained tile floors... Your fading lights in my rearview make a smile pierce my lips.

Where will you be this night, Mr. DPS patrolman?

But then there is Katy. Sweet effervescent Katy, with her Bass Pro Shop and Super-Sized Walmart, she calls out "almost home...another night almost over"

Mussberger

how terrible was the announcing last night?!?
If brent and gotee boy could have done a worse job, I don't see how.

a good surmise of last night: The Spurs really missed an opportunity tonight and failed to get the basics done. Mainly, their free throw shooting and stopping the pick and roll. Really dissappointing in a fundamental team. A 5 foot jumper in the lane to win the game? Duncan HAS TO make that!

Brent's summary: Well after 2 games the Spurs were looking to possibly sweep the Sonics and now this could be a remake of Lakers' comeback from last year?

Another example:
Manu drives the lane and gets closed lined by Collison.
Brent's take: Well it looks like an offensive foul. Yep, there's (Manu's) arm flying.

And speaking of people too ugly to be on TV (Collison), the Seattle fans look like they ran through the forest of ugly and hit every tree. However, props to the Sonics big men. They came in and got real physical and hammered us. We sat around and waited for calls that weren't there. That is not championship basketball.
The Spurs will finish out the Sonics in the next 2 games and perhaps, last nights rough-up was the best thing for this finals bound team.

little pig

this whole basketball season, everybody has been talking about these GREAT teams and the NBA commercials show every thug-rapper-"just give me the rock"-wanna-be. The announcers droning on and on about SKILLZ and the run and gun.

Where are you now? Why are you not talking about those guys now?

Since when did strange concepts like "discipline" and "defense" become important in basketball? It's slamma-jamma and in your face and don't forget about the bling bling!

Now the announcers are shrugging their shoulders and saying "the spurs just have too many ways that they can hurt you" almost like "I'm sorry mam, but the cancer has just spread too fast. I wish there was something we could do."

"well it looks like it will be the Heat and the Spurs in the championship" uncoded: It's pretty bad...but there is one last measure we could try and you have 50/50 chance...

The truth is that the NBA is hemorrhaging fans. Normal working men that grew up with Larry Bird and Dr. J. They want to sit down and watch a game with good team play and strategic coaching. Two teams fighting it out and putting their egos aside to WIN THE GAME. Not 10 individuals out to get the stats and the highlights and the commercial contracts. Win the game? yeah, that would be good too.

Okay, well I made through this entire entry without mentioning the way that the biggest sissy in sports completely got rewarded this entire last game by getting call after call after CALL!!! Apparently, the the referees have decided that playing defense against Ray Allen is a foul in and of itself. AND if i hear one more talking head mention how HARD Allen is for battling back and playing with a bum ankle...I will have to gouge someone's eyes out...so help me...even if they're my own! at least I wouldn't have to see that cute little smirk that he gets across his widdle face every time he gets a call because the big-bad Bowen huffed and puffed in his general direction.

Well, I almost didn't mention it.

save you some time

The Spurs did actually just finish AND win the first round of their playoff series against the Nugg-ettes. I wanted to ease your concerns in case you were searching for information on this at ESPN and were unable to find ANYTHING.
There is an article about how great Nugg-ette Star Carmello Anthony is and how he will be pretty much unstoppable next year.

by the way he looked really unstoppable last night in the 4th quarter when he cried like a little girl because his wrist was hurting him. Good luck working on your scary game face during the off-season Carmellow.

Next up: Sonics.

Happy Hour

1 for 3. doing appointments in San Antonio yesterday and 1 out of 3 people actually did not cancel. Nice.

So instead of griping and complaining, unusual for me, I ate lunch with my mom and grandma (Happy). I realized how long it's been since I've sat down with family and it wasn't at a reunion or holiday. It was like coming home from college and sleeping in your own bed.

The warm fuzzy feelings soon turned to chagrin as my mom starts telling bra stories and then Happy intros a story with: "Jason, this might embarass you..." So I decided it was time to get a refill.

When I get back, Happy tells me about how her and Papa (pronounced Paw-Paw) went out dancing the other night...at an old folks home! Both of them are in 70's and in great shape, so how did they end up dancing a jig with the artificial hip crowd?
Answer: They went to a funeral.

Yeah, they went across town to a funeral and when they got there and said who they were there to see, the director told them that they were a day late. "Oh we know that he has already passed away, we're here for the funeral." Director unammused, "Exactly, You missed the funeral by a day."
So my grandparents, decide to go see a friend of theirs that plays in a band and that band has a weekly gig at this old folks home.

Only my grandparents start the night off going to a funeral and end up boot scootin' with geriatrics.

I've been noticing a trend and it seems like Happy and Papa are always going to funerals and nursing homes to visit. Granted it's because a greater number of people that they know are passing away, but sometimes it's for people that they really aren't that close to. I have 2 theories on this.

1. As people age, death becomes more real and aging is an unescapable reality. In order to cope with the innate fear and other emotions that would acccompany this realization, people spend more and more time getting acquainted with the process. Like a young couple driving through neighborhoods looking at homes or befriending a couple with young kids so that they can peer into their own future and see what's down the road. A catharthic measure of sorts.

2. An unconscious piling up of karma. By visiting people in their old age, they envoke a what-goes-around-comes-around cycle and they will in turn receive visitors to their old folks dances and ultimately fill the pews at their funeral...as long as everybody shows up on time. (texas cooking does not condone nor endorse any beliefs in karma)

Of course, my grandparents are the most loving and unselfish people I know and really my thoughts are a projection of my own manipulative nature. As a kid, any time I visited Happy, we would always visit the older people she knew and bring them some kind of gift. the greatest gift of course was her time and indellible smile.

I guess the only question I still have is when old folks do the electric slide does it involve greasing the wheels on their motorized wheelchairs?

correspondence

Greg Morrison wrote:
what's the significance of 1947 in your e-mail address? was that just a number assigned because 1,946 other people tried to use texas@yahoo.com? or was there some important event in Texas history that year?

jason maroney wrote:
actually, that's kinda right. guy clark has a song Texas 1947 and it is about the first time a streamline train ran through Texas (Monihans, Texas to be exact...a gas station near a giant dirt mound named Swelled Pig's Teat and not much else)
most people get pretty confused by the name and that is reason enough to keep it for me

Greg Morrison wrote:
wow. not every day the phrase "swelled pig's teat" shows up in my inbox. or, anywhere else for that matter. I can't say my life feels incomplete for the lack of it, but it's good to have that mystery solved.

jason maroney wrote:
it was pretty funny becasue we were driving to a mission trip in new mexico and we were in the middle of no-where-flat west texas and this giant dirt "thing" loomed in the distance. As we got closer to it i'm thinking in the back of my head "gosh that thing looks like a pig's teat only kinda swolen" we pull into THE gas station (as in the only gas station for 200 miles) and the lady who ran the place (the only resident and sign of life in Monihans as far as i can tell) and asked her what they called the dirt mound. and she looked at me and said "swelled pig's teat" and I swear to you greg morrison...she said it with pride.
true story.

twenty-flippin-four

it was a night to plant your behind on the couch... not unlike many other nights, but this night was special.
Prez Palmer is back in the saddle and the world feels safer. Chloe puts down the machine gun and gets back to the computer...(props to the Josher for calling the "tension" between Chloe and Edgar... sick out. Jack takes out a flippin' embassy. Take that ChiComs!
If that were it...great tv night! But oh no there's so much more:
Rockets lose to the Mavs at the buzzer with the ball in TMac's hands. The Spurs, meanwhile take the series to 3-1 on the Mini-Thug Nuggets. Is it just me or do they remind you of high school thug basketball players... oh wait, that's the entire league except for the silver and black...and maybe the Jazz.
Thugs aren't allowed in Utah.
No foreign fruit or corn-rows.

Look for the Thuggets to implode and get real physical, but hopefully the Spurs can get a call every now and then back at home. Either way, Duncan closes the series 4-1.
p.s. do you hear that sound? it's the silence of the Don't trade Malik crowd now that Nazr is kicking butt.

that's my dawg

Alicia and I have been thinking about getting Malin a dog for her birthday so we have been checking out animal shelters and classified ads. If it's one thing I've learned through this it is that DOGS ARE EXPENSIVE. DOLLAR BILLS Y'ALL.
Back in the day, rescuing a dog was like 30 bucks now it's ninety. NINE-ZERO. For some dog that wasn't good enough for somebody else. I understand that those uppity-top of the line pet shop dogs or those $400 side of the road "AKC" dogs are gonna pull some dough but these dogs didn't make the cut for some other family. bark too much. pee on their floor. chew on the sofa. whatever.
Free market economy says that those dogs should be sold for a major discount. Ugly ones for even cheaper. No discernable breed? half off. Pees all the time? 75% off. Always trying to bite your in-laws? ehhh maybe pay a little bit more for that one. (just teasing. love ya Lisa!)
Now if the $90 was the total cost, maybe that would be such a big deal. but then we would need to pay a pet deposit and we don't even know if the landlord would allow us to have a dog or how much she would charge us! Then you gotta buy all kinds of dog products and fancy chew toys AND food. mutt would probably want to eat every day!! And those chew toys...why not just buy an extra pair of dress shoes so that the furry chewing machine can go ahead and do the inevitable. Stock up on Febreeze and Carpet cleaner.
After all that and knowing that I will be the one to clean up the poo and take the dog for a walk and food and water... ultimately, who can say no to this:


You see my dilemma.
Everything worked out in the end because Malin needs these orhtopedic inserts that cost crazy money so after trapsing all over Katy and Houston and searching for mutts all over the web... She's gonna get a fish. a boring, swim, eat and poop fish.
Cest la vie

pretty much the worst officiating ever

the officials suck for the spurs nuggets game.
I would like to gouge out their eyes with those yellow corn-on-cob holders.

neicephew

my sister and brother in law are having a baby and she just called me because they went to the doctor and saw the sonogram and they could see my neicephew's heart fluttering away! it's only been 6 weeks. I think that amazing.

Part of the reason I'm so pumped is that they have tried for so long and we have all been praying like crazy...more so praying a lot than "like crazy". "like crazy" would entail muttering and flailing and asking God to stop the leprechaun from stealing your lucky charms...but i digress.

sorry for the nasty appearance of this post but since i had to turn in my laptop when i changed jobs, this is how it's gonna be. unless you want to make your donation to the GMAC Fund (Get the Maroneys A Computer) then my posts will be pretty again. incoherrent but pretty.

The only sad news about the neicephew is that there is only one of them. Of course this will only be sad news to Malin since she was praying for my sister to have 100 babies. I guess she had watched 101 dalmations or something. Silver lining: not 100 babies but my neicephew does look like a poodle. (that what the sonogram lady said. honest.) I guess that means the baby will be taking after my brother-in-law.

Maroneys are not that well-bred. We're more of the mutt variety.

post by email

I'm checking out to see what the posts look like if you send it in by email.

Just a test. Don't read and expect anything witty, thoughtful or remotely interesting in the post.

Although, I am pretty pumped the FISHING/GOLFING/CAMPING MEN'S RETREAT at Lake Whitney this weekend.

Supposedly, this is the best thing since pull tab beer.

NOT one of those "sit down and talk about your feelings" women's retreat for men. Who comes up with those anyway? Why would any self-respecting man want to spend an entire weekend hearing about how they are emotionally unavailable? Are the retreat planners trying to put our wives out of a job? Dominoes and Lone Star. Fishing Poles and Bar-B-Q. Holy Mother of Pearl!
Oh yeah...and I got offered a new job that is really great and I'm taking it! More details to come

Other than that...just your usual boring post

the blog vs. the bulletin board

The difference between slugging your way through a Fiesta Mart and perusing through mom and pop's local store. Can you find absolutely every flippin' thing at the Fiesta Mart? Every wierd root and juice and canned item. hats, t-shirts and knick-knacks. True, there is the limited choice at mom and pop's. but you don't have to walk past the gang of thugs loitering out front. you just have to step over the family dog that "guards" the front door. Of course, I think that dingy old dog gives the store some personality and instead of a world of a la carte, there is more intentionality and attention to detail.
At mom and pop's, you run into the guy who cuts your hair or your buddy since 5th grade. At the Fiesta Mart, you're lucky if you run into somebody who speaks coherent English.

Heller For President?

what happens when President Logan screws up royally? When he ties the hands of CTU and the FBI? When he plays right into the hands of the terrorists?
Mike Novak has already proven that he will subvert a president if he thinks him incapable of his duties and that was with a trusted friend. How long before he steps in and gets mealy-mouth kicked out and supplanted by SecDef Heller?
Obviously, there are some succession questions there but Heller is on the president's cabinet and while the SecState or Speaker of the House would be a more natural choice, the overiding factor would be the security of the nation and for that Heller is the obvious choice. Of course, the most important factor here is that the fans love Heller's red-faced, give 'em hell politics and we don't even know anybody else so...duh.
I say this won't be till next week, after the poo has really hit the fan. by then, Jack will be one step behind Marwan and one step of the FBI who will be looking for him on orders from Mealy. Heller will be able to come in and help just in time to help Jack capture the missing warhead.

The Hobbit Cafe

thorin
Originally uploaded by Texas Cooking.

Alicia and I went out last night without a plan or direction. We set out to have dessert and a drink. Simple enough? Right.
We drove past the newly opened Cheesecake Factory. A line of people wrapped around the restraurant. All the teeny boppers on their cell phones spending mom and dad's money. Someone in our party of 2 reccomends that we go in and sit at the bar since all we want is dessert. Dessert at the CHEESECAKE Factory. Maybe it's just me but don't you think that some of those other people in the mile long line have thought of that? Just maybe.
We tool on down the road and jump on 59. We look at all the chain restaurants and replicates and pass. We head downtown and try to scout out a place. We drive down Kirby. We drive up and down Westheimer. We drive down Shepherd. Tension starts to build. We drive back down Kirby. Frustration sets in. Turn onto Richmond and it doesn't look promising but then Alicia says "the Hobbit cafe".
A wooden sign shows Gandalf pointing to the back of a filled gravel parking lot. Oak trees growing up randomly amongst the vehicles. The cafe is nestled in the back, hidden from the busy street. A huge old oak tree grows through the covered deck that wraps around the building.
The cafe itself is extremely quaint, a converted home with old wood and painted in very earthy and rustic colors. We sat inside under a LOTR movie poster and a drawing of Thorin Oakenshield. (Thorin of course is the head dwarf from The Hobbit). I had a Strider, an egg salad sandwich with mushrooms and tomatoes. Alicia enjoyed a Gandalf, avacados and mushrooms under melted monterey jack. Excellent draft beer from microbreweries in houston and austin and a finely picked wine list. A hefewiezen for me and a reisling for Alicia. From what I gather, the Hobbit is frequented by alot of vegans, but there are a lot of items on the menu that do have meat.
For those keeping track, after searching all night for a good place to get dessert, we ended up eating dinner. But the Hobbit was worth it and I still have an entire half a sandwich to eat for lunch today.

poll of the day

who is the worst kid actor:
a. teenage post-modern terrorist
b. "dad. i'm scared"
c. kim remade and undone
d. other

we all know this

the 3% property appraisal cap was shot down last night. Check that. The discussion of a 3% property tax apprasial cap was shot down. The movement was started by tax payers who are also home owners and are fed up with being the local governments' cash cow.
The down and dirty of it is, when cities and municipalities find their budget a little short, the old tax assesor gets sent out to recoup the shortfall. Of course he skips over the judge's house, the senator and represenative and the people who sit on the city boards. Their houses obviously haven't grown in value. Some of their taxes haven't been raised in years. Of course this is assuming that any of these mark ups have anything to do with the houses' values.
The worst part of all this is that 36 republicans walked away from this issue and voted to not have a discussion on this issue. An issue that is part of their platform. They are all firmly in the pocket of their county judges' and spending lobbies' back pocket.
It makes me so disgusted that on every turn it seems that the peoples' voice gets drowned out by unelected judges and silent lobbies who have easy access to our pocket book.
On a bigger scene, Delay is being hung to dry (but he's too strong to get put down) by a party that is scared to be itself. Scared to go back to the image of the heartless Republicans who want to starve your family and take your kids lunch money. Scared to stand up to fight for itself or one of it's own.
To top of my frustration today, I read 3 lines from this article and almost vomitted. Here a "representative" obviously unaffilliated with any specific party only to the state of Vermont. Unless of course if you read the rest of the article, down way at the bottom...the democratic party defends him thereby you can guess that Sanders (rep otherwise unattached) might be a democrat. Of course the article itself glows about how his wife and daughter are so knowledgeable about Vermont politics that they were worth "every penny" that old hubby paid them. Same situation as Delay but you won't hear a word about it in the mainstream.
Sometimes I wonder (especially when trying to do my taxes) if the government really is in the business of trying to keep people from succeeding in life. Take hard working people's money and give it all to people who want to sit on their butt's. No wonder so much work is going over seas.

1 for 2

ok. so i was wrong on the president...kind of. If he eventually dies, I say that I was still right. If he makes a comeback before the end of the show, I say that's it. Too neat and tidy and unbelievable. Only so far can you stretch me.
Is it possible that only 2 guys and a huey can be rounded up to try and secure the football? In the U.S. of freaking A? maybe. Is it possible that we would reinstate a former traitor and current alcoholic to be temporarily in charge of a government agency? that is definitely not a huge jump to make. But. come on. Does Jack, in fact, need to do everything? all the time?
I want to watch this show. I love it. But I don't want to watch General Hospital with guns. Let somebody freaking die for pete's sake.

for sale or rent

I finally discovered my skills! Unfortunately, it is neither numchuk nor bow hunting skills. BUT, I do have magical abilities. (currently) I can go to any professional sports venue and not only make my team win, but win by one point at the buzzer.

First the Spurs/Lakers, then the Astros/Reds. I'm en fuego! Granted, there is no "buzzer" at a baseball game, but it was bottom of the ninth, so I think it qualifies.

I'm not yet certain if my skills require me to be a fan of the team or not. I will have to do further investigating.

Looking forward to a great 24 tonight. My money is on this scenario: President is dead (if not it will seem too Soap Opera/Harrison Ford). The Football escapes immeadiate capture but later falls into the terrorists' hands but is rescued by Jack before (right before) they blow anything up (preferably during the obligatory evil guy monologue). They will try to use the football to kill all Americans and if they were being true to life, nuke Israel, but as mentioned earlier this will be thwarted. Frankly this season is getting a little ho-hum. not quite as edge-of-your-seat-what's-going-to happen-next like the preceeding seasons. I will say this much for this season's terrorists, they find something that works and stick with it. i.e. blow up a vehicle (train/plane) where something valuable is and show up before the response team can get there and steal it. It's quality, because the items are in these destruction proof cases and if you can control when and where you blow up the vehicle, you're bound to get there before any response team can. kudos to you Mr. Terrorist Plan Maker. You go the extra mile to blow us up.

sickness and wonderings

Alicia has the flu. She is out cold. Occassionally she wakes up enough to chort out this nasty chest cough. Each time I wonder if I should go and scoop up her lung fragments and shove them back inside. But that would probably hurt worse than it would be beneficial. So I do the next best thing: feed her soup, fill 'er up with sleepy drugs and watch sports.

Don't judge me... It's not like she's awake or even alive to this world. What does it matter if I gorge on basketball, baseball and ESPN Classic? How can it be wrong, when it feels so right? Did I mention all the Tom Clancy movies ever made? It's time like this that I wonder crazy things. Like...if being gay didn't involve the whole sex thing, or acting...well acting gay, or dressing preppy...but instead was just two dudes watching sports, grilling steaks and drinking beer every night...well...I think there would be a lot more gay guys. But instead they're missing all the benefits and still have all the... the...non-benefits (i think that's safe enough) and spend time arguing over whether they watch Trading Spaces or Ice Skating. Come on guys. You're screwing up a good thing!

I love being married and I love Alicia to death, I'm just saying that a little less Soap TV and a little more bar-b-que in the old diet is not a horrible thing. I'm just saying is all

Remember the Schiavo

There are many who claim that Sam Houston did nothing to save the defenders of the Alamo because he in fact wanted to benefit from the Alamo's defeat. Knowing Santa Anna's bloated ego would compel him to utterly destroy the mission and any who would stand up against him, Sam (it is claimed) allowed the defeat to stoke the fires and anger of his army to a fever pitch. Ultimately, Sam Houston's forces fought Santa Anna on grounds that they chose, fueled by the cry "Remember the Alamo".

I must say here, that the Alamo was an obvious trap for the fledgling Texas Army and to run to their rescue would have played right into old Santy Anna's hand. Let's say he could have thrown forces into the mission... could it have been enough to change the outcome of the battle? I say no. The first loss is the smallest loss. The defeat of the Alamo was decided long before Sam Houston was notified of the seige. It was in underestimating the enemy.

This brings us to current day. Was Terri Schiavo the Alamo for conservatives? Is she more politically useful now that she has been martyred? If George and Jeb could have rescued her life there at the end, would they have? Did they, in fact use every power at their discretion to intervene and stand up for this lady? Or would the cost have been to high and the gain to small?

When does doing something because it is right, lose to doing something because it is effective? Battlefield tactics, involving soldiers who know the cost war may require, differs greatly from politcal angles at the expense of American citizens. I don't know the answer to the question I am asking. I don't know why Sam Houston did not answer the calls of William Travis and I don't know whether George and Jeb exhausted every option for Terri. I certainly don't know what was going on inside their hearts and minds. Most everything I have seen and heard about these two men is that they are above reproach are loving, caring Christian men. It seemed though, that at the end, when public opinion seemed to turn, both backed off a little and would not use their executive powers to intervene, instead bowing to the judiciary as though it is the most powerful branch and greater than the Governor, President and Legislature combined.

In all of this, the most striking similarity is that now, people are beginning to see the powers that they are up against. While the will of the people is evidenced in a conservative house, senate and presidency, the judiciary stands as the last governmental bastion for liberalism. People are now incensed and up in arms. Unfortunately, it took a young lady's life to call them to action.

sycophants, mormans & frustrated engineers...oh my!

The Genesis Project is pretty funny. You must check it out, but do yourself a favor and don't start reading the comments posted. but if you do, make fun of them here.

Goodbye Mitch

Stolen from Comedy Central
Tragically, Mitch Hedberg passed away on March 30, 2005. Mitch was a beloved member of the Comedy Central family, and we join with his fans in our sadness. He will be missed.

Born and raised in the St. Paul area, Mitch Hedberg decided to start his own comedy career in South Florida. Not so much for the comedy scene, but for the sun. His landlord would drive him up and down the coast from club to club in his pick-up truck where Mitch would lie down in the back to avoid any of the negative conversations his landlord would try to have with him.

Mitch developed his style in Florida and decided to try it out on different audiences. He moved to Seattle and toured throughout the Pacific Northwest honing his act in front of the new audiences. While in Los Angeles, Mitch booked his first television appearance on MTV's "Comikaze" by walking into the MTV offices and personally pitching himself to the talent coordinator. Many cable shows followed including A&E's "Comedy on the Road," Comedy Central's "Comedy Product," and NBC's "Comedy Showcase" hosted by Louie Anderson.

In 1996, Mitch got his break with an invitation to perform at the prestigious Just for Laughs Montreal International Comedy Festival. His performances secured him a deal with a studio and a spot on "The Late Show with David Letterman." Letterman enjoyed the set so much that he actually quoted one of Mitch's bits later in the show.

Mitch's stand-out performances on the Letterman show (on which he appeared 10 times) and at comedy festivals secured a development deal with FOX to create his own sitcom and prompted TIME magazine to proclaim him "the next Seinfeld" and The Hollywood Reporter to headline their review of the Festival, "Laughs are Loudest for Hedberg."

Mitch also released two popular comedy CDs, "Strategic Grill Locations" and "Mitch All Together," and he wrote and directed a film, "Las Enchiladas!" which had its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival.

Known for his dry, observational wit and low-key style, Mitch Hedberg was a master of turning everyday details into brilliant one-liners:

"I got my hair highlighted, because I felt some strands were more important than others."

"I wish I could play little league now. I'd be way better than before."

"I think pickles are cucumbers that sold out."

"A severed foot is the ultimate stocking stuffer."

While he was frequently compared to the comedian Stephen Wright, Mitch's style was indelibly unique and never could be imitated. He was truly one of a kind.

Unlike many comics who shy away from their fans' attention, Mitch welcomed it. His official website encouraged fans to send in pictures of themselves posing with Mitch at his shows. One published anecdote tells of Mitch meeting a group of college students at a recent show in Florida who mentioned the stifling heat of their dorm room. Mitch knocked on their door the next morning with a brand-new air conditioner.

Mitch Hedberg was popular among his peers and had many friends in the comedy community. The Minneapolis Star-Tribune quoted close friend and comedian Doug Stanhope of The Man Show as saying "He was the greatest comedian ever."

Mitch passed away in March, 2005 at the age of 37.

johnny c's eu-lo-gee

(written on the 29th but blogger was down so in lieu of actual, recent comments...)
Where were you when the white bronco led LA's finest on a nationally viewed car chase?
I was at my high school girlfriend's house after football. I remember vividly the goose-egg I had on my leg from doing those horrible drills that high school coaches have wet dreams about. Someone had cut down a massive tree, probably during the civil war, and ever since then, teenage boys have bear crawled, hopped, shuffled, lunged and rolled over and around the prehistoric trunks. It was during a sideways bear-crawl that I smacked my shin on the log.
That my friends is a special feeling that I highly recommend. The very real sensation that your leg just broke into. A throbbing that overpowers your mental abilities and a temporary paralysis sets in below your knee because your nerves are overloaded and will not allow you to injure yourself further.
Within an hour, your calf fills up with fluid which later turns a beautiful gangrenous black and blue. This fluid provides a fun past time for all of your friends: pressing indentions into the fluid filled calf and watching it slowly fill back up.
So I sat there, in a little house near Lee High School watching OJ evade the cops and then weeks/months later came the dream team pulling out all the stops. Maybe Johnny's up in heaven now defending celebrities and trying to get them into heaven. "Didn't hear the story...get them out of purgatory." and "You control their fates...open up the pearly gates."

HA

I'm going to the SPURS game tomorrow and you're not!

Psy-Ops

Alicia just got home from the Nail-Salon-Spa-Whatever and asks me "Do you like the new color of my nails?" Inside my head I'm saying "New color? what was the old color? Were they colored at all?" Ultimately, I'm thinking "WHO CARES?!?!"

HOWEVER - I've been through this routine before so I: #1. look at the nails #2. Say: Yeah, that looks good.
*note a simple uhuh or approval grunt does not suffice here.

At this point, I am home free. Keep making my sandwich and shove it in my mouth and I'm sitting pretty. BUT I remember times when I have said that I like something (food, hair-do, etc) and then it becomes a standard fixture...SO I say "The red does look good but I think I like the pink you wear better"

I wait and watch and she doesn't get sad, dissappointed or mad...My brain is going "hey I didn't get in trouble" THEN it hit me I'M TRAINED LIKE A CIRCUS MONKEY!!!

She knows I don't care about her nails. I know I don't care about her nails. But somewhere in hte deep recesses of my brain she has triggered an interest in the shades and tones of her fingernails and what's more I make a comment that feeds into this farce and when she doesn't react negatively...I think I'm getting away with something!!!!

Either I'm turning into a woman, or women should be enlisted in the military for Psychological Warfare. They can manipulate and train any Y chromosome bearing person into doing just about anything. How else do you explain: deck shoes, man bags, pink shirts, underwear and peeing indoors.

Shells

Easter is all about shells for my family. Peeling the shells off the broken eggs that the kids have found. Watching the guests that have been invited out to Happy and Papa's come out of their shell. Expending shell after shell, shooting clay pigeons out in the field behind the house. That and drinking beer.

Sometimes my cousins bring their dirt bikes and go off tearing up the paths of my granparents property. they're pretty tough so nobody worries that their riding right behind and in the direction of the firing range. A little peppering never hurt anybody...much.

Everybody is always welcome and everybody always comes. We have seen compound growth like your portfolio only dreams of. I'm still not exactly sure why more and more people come. It's just my family and Josh can vouche for me...as far as entertainment goes they're much closer to Jerry Springer than Oprah and Dr. Phil. But still they come and as Happy always said "we'll just throw another bean in the pot". I think maybe it is the lack of pretense and people just being people. The love of fun and acceptance of people regardless of acceptability.

Then again, maybe it's the shotguns and beer.

sbc center

sbc center
Originally uploaded by Texas Cooking.

Oh Yeah Baby.

I think I will actually be close enough to throw an empty beer cup on Kobe.

grated brain cheese

susan esterich's voice is worse than listening to a rabbit's death wail. listening to her makes me tired, mad and strangely hungry...but that part might be the chocolate chip cookies the girls baked earlier.

and then a reprieve from susan's grating to the abrupt rudeness of greta van s.

ENVY

ticket
Originally uploaded by Texas Cooking.

I know where I am going to be on April 2nd. I just hope Timmy gets better quickly! P.S. take a closer look at the ticket and you will understand why Joe is way better than any of my other friends.

a cardboard box and intravenous bacon

Does anybody else see a parallel between Scott Peterson and Michael Schiavo? Michael is definitely just as big of a dirt bag and it has nothing to do with my opinion on life support systems.
The guy is just evil.
Denies his wife voice therapy and rehab. (p.s. how many coma patients do you know that can speak on command) Denies her treatment of infections. Tells a court that he is going to care for her for as long as she will live and begs for money to do just that...then turns around puts her on DNR and waits for her to get sick. He tells Larry King last night that he loves Terry still, although he lives with another woman and their babies. Claims he still has the right to decide her life and death because she is his wife, but could be considered legally married to someone else.
Maybe the best thing to come out of this is the discussion that is taking place in homes all over America. I know Alicia and I have talked about it. we talked and feel pretty much the same way, if we're not getting any better, get rid of us. pull the plugs, yank the tubes.
I completely defend the right of the Schindler family to keep Terry alive and restart rehab and everything. but for me, I would just want everybody to move on. Chunk my big carcass into a cardboard box and throw me an Irish wake and I'll laugh at your hangovers. Only one request, I get really mean and angry when I get hungry and I don't want to be ticked off my last days on earth. Please. Please, put bacon mush in my IV. I promise to be gone in 2 weeks and smile as I leave.

So I married Lisa Simpson

Alicia and I were grabbing some coffee and taking a little walk around the new City Hall area in Sugarland. It's actually really nice (if you can ignore all the yuppies and cool people) There is an awesome statue/fountain of a cowboy riding his horse out of a creek and he is being jerked back by a horse behind him, caught up in the current and the cowboy strains on the rope that is the horses' only chance. It's pretty sweet. The water is flowing into the pool where the horse is struggling and bubbles and churns all around the horse.

We walked and enjoyed the Texas sun, I made a typical Jason comment and Alicia was quick to correct me and redirect me to being nice and sweet... that's when it hit me. I married Lisa Simpson. The Ever-Present Conscience of Springfield. Always bringing moral truth to bear on any and every situation. As is my standard operating procedure, I blurt it out without thinking and explain that it doesn't matter whether or not she has seen the Simpsons. She is Lisa. Lisa is her. Unusually though, I don't get in "trouble" for my comments. I think maybe because unconciously we know that we are a good fit. For those of you who know me, know that I threw my conscience in a burlap sack and beat it into submission years ago, so I think maybe God exchanged it with a really gorgeous red-head because He knew that she would have me wrapped around her little finger. (maybe the only way He could reign me in)

A deluxe apartment in the sky

Move over George and Weezy. The Maroney's are moving on up. We took our proceeds from the garage sale and went on another furniture shopping bonanza. Have I mentioned how much I loathe doing this? I do. One difference this time, we have money. Real Money. Amigo Money. Garage Sale Money.
First stop, Star Outlet - on the butt-other side of Houston. 45 minute drive on a Saturday. by the time we get there, Alicia has fallen asleep and I hate people. all people. We walk around and find some things we like, in fact find a sofa that I am ready to buy right then. A sales lady hovers nearby, but never approaches. Until we actually look at her, she sulks in the distance. Sales tip #1 when you see a couple looking at your merchandise, come up to them, introduce yourself. Ask "what are you looking for today?" Then show them what you have. Actually act like you want them to buy something and maybe even act like your merchandise is good. Just a thought. Alicia decides that we are going to just look today and buy on Sunday. ARRRGH!
Second Stop. IKEA. GOD HELP ME NOT KILL ANY SWEDISH PEOPLE TODAY. Nothing really jumps out at us in the furniture area, however, we are recently in the market for a tv stand (see entry below) and we find one that is both complicated to put together and doesn't have instructions. but since we didn't know that at the time, we buy!
Thrid Stop. The Room Store. After 3 quick laps through the store we say No.
Fourth Stop. Fingers. How do people come up with these names? honestly, think it through. Good ole Percy shows us around and pretty much every sofa/chair combination in the store. He has a floor model on sale for like $400 off. It's not at all what Alicia had in mind. It's a very nice piece of furniture though. We talk. We haggle. We buy!
After paying the nice lady in $1's $5's, and $20's the sofa mover comes and helps us. This guy looks completely normal, but when we talk about moving the sofa and chair he gets excited. I mean this guy is amped. He's smiling and rubbing his hands together like he's in for the thrill of his life. A virtual Crazy Uncle Harry. He already has the sofa on the dolly but we tell him that we are going to take home the chair first. So Uncle Harry justs dumps the sofa off the back of the dolly and props the chair up all helter skelter on the dolly. Alicia is about to have a heart attack watching our newly bought as-is furniture and asks "is that going to tear the bottom of the chair like that?" he looks at her and actually responds "I dunno"
But Harry is nice enough and we reposition the chair and slug it into the Explorer.
We get it home and put together the TV stand and place the Chair just right and everything is nice. Really nice, because now I have a comfy blogging chair. Today we church it up and then pick up our sofa. Life is nice.
...a beans don't burn on the grill, took a whole lot of climbing just get it on up that hill... Moving on up

Yard Sale

There is something very American about a Yard Sale. The average couple putting up hand-made signs at 5 AM. Displaying all of your personal items in your front lawn on card tables and moving blankets and an old door propped up on saw horses. Little stickers with prices scribbled on them attached to vases, stuffed bears, grandma's shoes and purses. Neighbors and not-so-neighbors veering their cars onto your quiet street to pick through, oggle and turn their dirty noses up to items that 30 minutes before you might have been using.
Little kids picking up 25 cent toys that they have fallen in love with. Haggling over a dollar or two. Both sides acting like it would just break you to move 2 more dollars.
Seriously. 2 dollars. You can't buy lunch for 2 dollars. I think if the fate of the world were lying in the balance, 2 dollars might be able to stand in the way. Sharon and Abbas figuring the safety of Israel and the creation of a Palestinian state...nope can't work out. Palestine wants $10,000,002 and Israel will only pay $10 MIL. All High School Economics classes should spend a day observing/putting on garage sales and they will see first hand how the free market and capitalism works. My supply and demand example from our garage sale: A guy wants to buy our cordless phone and a lamp. The offering price is $20. The deal price we have come to is $15. He wants to pay $10. He says "I can get it for $10 in Mexico" I quickly retort "We're not in Mexico." I get $15. He gets a phone and lamp. Supply and Demand.

spitting in church

last weekend Alicia and I went to the baptism of oour friends' new baby girl Ella. She is a doll. just a little bitty thing and sweet as can be. I even forgive her for pooping all over my arm. (it's really Alicia's fault anyway) I said "oh...she's going. she really needs a change." Alicia says "oh don't worry about it. It's mostly just air." I'm just some dumb guy who doesn't know anything so go on holding Ella, despite the new warm feeling I have on my arm. Finally, I say "Ella really needs to be changed" and WOW! so much poop from such a little baby. What's a little sick and twisted is that I was just happy to be right. In fact, I was more happy to have the poop on my shirt and be right, than if Alicia would have listened to me. I'm pretty sure my happiness came from being right and not some wierd fecal love.
Years ago (days) when I first wanted to write about this I was all jazzed about talking about the Orthodox church that Ella was baptized in and how the ceremony was really cool and how the mom and god-parents confirmed their oath to God by spitting in the doorway of the church. But as usual with me, everything turns to poop.
keep being sweet Ella and I can't wait to embarass you when you are a teenager about the time you pooped on me.

Communion

75% of the time, Houston is like a giant arm pit. Nasty, stinking, fat trucker perspiration. all day long, all day strong.
I thought about this as I drove up to Austin this last Saturday. The sweaty trucker following me up 71, hovering over me at my sister's in Kyle.

But Sunday. Sunday that trucker moved on and in his stead there was beauty. Austin was just as I remembered it. Blue skies. soft wind. warm sunshine. I went to Mount Olive and saw all my kids and it was really great. hugs, smiles, punches and jabs. their new campus is absolutely stunning. Every place that they could use natural wood they did. It's nice. Worship was really great, but it was seeing my friends that really lifted my spirits.

After lunch, I went down to San Antonio.

The long way.
The rural way.
The beautiful way.

The Wimberly-Blanco shortcut is by far one of my favorite, not-so-secret, driving pleasures (that and shaving 5 minutes off my ETA). My ranch is about 10 minutes from 290 and I love to drive by and see how it's doing and what new animals call it home. About 100 acres of lush green grass butt up to a 200 foot high limestone cliff. A small creek flows in a crescent shape from one side of the ranch to the other. On the northern side, are the stables, horses and volleyball court. Moving soutward is the main house, looking out on the antelope and elk that graze on the remainder of the property. I call it mine, because I have staked my claim on the land and I am in the process of gathering up banditos to jump the current squatters. let me know if you're interested.

about 4 minutes from the ranch, there is a hill that climbs up and looks out over the entire hill country. With my window down, I hang my arm out to feel the breeze. Turn off the radio to let my soul soak in the calmness of the moment. The clouds above seem to roll on forever into the distance. Filtering in select sun rays that drop down to the valley below. A fishing pond waits at the bottom of the hill. And it all seems unreal as I watch an eagle fly in and out of the sunbeams, even catching the glint of brown from his feathers. Everything is perfect. Everything is just right. A moment. An experience very familiar but still unique. Recieving the body and the blood. Feeling so small and unworthy and yet loved and important. Like climbing into dad's pickup as a little boy as he took me to basketball practice. Like climbing into bed with mom and dad because I was frightened. Waking up to Grandma's waffles after a sleep over. Sitting with my sweetie at a picnic when she accepted my ring. Holding my baby girl in the morning as she gives my that little squeeze that says "I love you too"

That's why God gave us communion. That's why God gave us his Son on the cross. He wants that for us. He wants us to have that awestruck and loved feeling. In awe and so totally loved by our Creator and Redeemer.

Cereal Milk

Texas Hall. Seated around square cafeteria tables was Troy and myself. We sat long after everyone had eaten and left. It was a rare day that we didn't make it to the Duval Study Hall, on 32nd and Duval. I pulled up to my rice krispies and grabbed my plastic glass of milk when I was struck by a moment of enlightenment. Reaching beyond my own creativity, I grabbed the sugar packets and poured them into my glass of milk. With a feverish intensity, I stirred the milk until not even the finest grain of sugar remained. And then, like the first drops of sunlight hit a dew soaked meadow, the cereal milk splashed around the puffed rice.
Never before had cereal tasted so good and never again will I experience such a tongue-asm. Troy and I sat and planned out our marketing strategy.
First, we test market around Austin in college cafeterias and high school and middle schools. Then we find a wholesaler to flood the local groceries with (Sweetened Just for) Cereal Milk. Imagine, not having to spill sugar all over the place as you prepare your morning meal. Imagine a perfectly mixed sugar and milk in every bite.

Second, we introduce Semi-Sweet and Super-Sweet Cereal Milk for the discerning type.

Third, Cereal Milk. It's not just for Cereal anymore. individual portions to make all our fat American kids just a little bit fatter.

Fourth, we partner with a Cereal producer to develop flavors such as Cocoa Krispy, Lucky Charms, Trix and Reeces Cereal Milk. With this final coup de gras we achieve long term branding and households and dorm rooms all over America sucking down the two greatest blessings from God: Sugar and Milk.

But it's not over. What about those poor people who need that pick me up in the morning but due to genetic disorders, can't stand the taste of coffee. What about those poor people? Who cares about them? Cereal Milk does. Because you can get it caffinated.

Why am I not a millionare?

reunion

It's really an anachronism. Families just don't do this kind of stuff anymore. Twice a year, my mother's family gets together in Bulverde, Texas. My grandmother grew up in a family of 6 kids. during the depression. With a single-parent mother. incredible.
My great-grandmother, Frida Stoudt, had 5 kids with with her husband (McNeil) when they took in a 16 year-old girl who had no where else to go. An affair began between this girl and my great-grandfather.
Picture this, it's the 20's. The country is in a depression. My great-grandmother has 6 kids. What do you do? She marches up to him and says it's her or me. He chooses the teenager. She walks out, raises 5 kids, working 2 jobs, washing clothes and raising chickens. My grandmother's aunt and uncle offer to raise her, but great grandma refused.
Later, she gets remarried to the man I know as my great grandpa. this brings the kid total up to 6. They raise these children together, despite the times when grandpa Stoudt would drink and gamble all of their money away. But great grandma knew that in spite of his flaws, he was faithful to her and he loved her and the kids.
My fondest memories as a child were visiting the farm where they lived and throwing feed to the chickens who scurried around, sitting down on the weathered wooden steps with a plate full of toast smothered with preserves that great grandma had made. I have never tasted an equal. Great grandma would tease me and ask "what's my name? Puddn' Tame. Ask me again and I'll tell you the same." I still don't know what that means but it made me crack up then and it still makes me smile.
What makes my family unusual is how those 6 kids have stayed connected and committed to their family and they have instilled this same set of values in their children and their children's children. Twice a year, young and old drive across the state to get together in the old Bulverde Community Center for a potluck meal of German potato salad, venison sausage, deviled eggs, stuffed cabbage and other family favorites. We eat and we talk. A family update is given by each of the heads of family, and the kids (i'm still included in this group) head over to the school next door and play our annual game of "tag your cousin with a tennis ball". The game is much more sophisticated than that, complete with rules and boundaries, but the whole point of the game is to hit your cousins very hard with a tennis ball. I love it.
As a young kid I never really paid attention to who all of the old people were and I still can't say exactly who everybody is, but there was a time when I started to make connections of who all great grandma's kids were and I kept coming up with an extra old lady. I finally asked my sister "who's that old lady over there? Does Happy (my grandma) have a sister I don't know about?" She takes me over to a corner and explains to me that the white haired old lady sitting with all of the family, the same white haired old lady that Happy would go and visit in the nursing home, she was the 16 year old that my grandfather had run off with. My family had once again taken her in, because she had no where else to go.
Incredible.

2 nights. 2 dates. 2 purty ladies

that's right. i'm lining up the ladies. Sunday night I went out with a younger woman and fed the ducks and then went to her favorite...Red Lobster. I hate that place but the look she had when I was treating her all grown up was incredible.
tonight it is out with the wife. what a life!
the short story is...Daddy-Daughter-Date Night was a big success.
It was so cute to see her all-dressed up and even kind of nervous, and then that smile creep over when I gave her roses. Sugar Plums. that what she said they smelled like.
Sugar Plums.

We did the duck thing and of course those stingy ducks can't ever sit and wait for the food. they have to come and attack you so that nobody gets any food. we walked around the little lake all the while with her little hand in mine.
from there to RL. We played "what's your favorite?" and had Shrimp Scampi. always shrimp scampi.
When we got back into the car to head home before her curfew, she leans forward and says "this was the best night ever!"
dad melting like butter.

bread: 10 cents
roses and balloon: $10
Red Lobster: $37
a daughter who knows the way she should be treated on a date: priceless

1 for 1 so far...

Monday Night, my other princess and I did our Valentine tradition. you know, driving to one place, seeing the long wait and then driving to another and not liking that place and then driving to yet another on the other side of town and finding the wait there even longer than your original wait.
the one deviation from the Valentine norm, was that we actually didn't fight this time. no seriously, we didn't fight at all.
I think maybe it was my new getting ready routine: while she does her hair and whatever else she does that takes 2 hours, I go out on the back porch and have a cold one... or two...
so by the time we are driving all over the greater west houston area, I don't care anymore.
some say it's dysfunctional, but i say anything that keeps the two of us from fighting on V-day is very functional.

2 for 2. life is good.

my Valentine

this I wrote about 5 years ago when I was reintroduced to the most amazing woman...

You have become real to me
more than a dream
more than a vision
thoughts or ideas
You existed for so long
as my ideal
always unreachable
untouchable
inside my head
but now I see you
walk, talk, laugh, kiss and smile
I realize you exist apart from me
with every step, word, and giggle
I see more than ever
you are
a part of me

forks up

I have seriously been out lately.

One of those weeks when you have that pressure behind your eyes like you're going to cry but you don't feel like crying and don't know if you could cry if you wanted to. that sounds really sissy, but it's that itchy eyed, dragging tail going through the motions thing that i hate. but find myself here more often than not it seems.

life was simpler as a teenager. everything was huge. a huge problem or a huge success. nothing was boring or mundane. life wasn't great then but it wasn't so darn long.

I'm ready to not be in transition anymore. I'm ready to be settled in and stick to one place for a while. one set of friends. one job. one church. one school for stinkbug.

So this is one big contradiction. tired of the mundane but hating so much change. I need someone to sift out my feelings like one of those mechanical kitty-litter boxes (you know those ones on the infomercials where the sensor notices when the cat gets in and out and the big "fork" comes and scoots all the poo-nuggets into a poo-bag) well, I need that big fork to comb through my brain and get rid of all the crap that is confusing and weighing me down.