Its been a tough week at the office...

Friday Not-So-Cemetery Blogging

I haven't had time to find a cemetery picture for you this week. Its been really hectic. Its been a week of unhappy change at work and non-stop softball at home. I am really pretty damn tired of softball.

That's not really true - I enjoy watching the kids play, but I think when the Good Lord sees fit to actually send us some rain we should do our damndest to be thankful for it. If the rain causes the cancellation of your frickin' softball game, so be it. Take it as a sign from the Almighty and cross it off your list.

Well, enough from that soapbox. In addition to having a really full week, the corn is now shoulder high in the field next to my house. Have I mentioned that I am allergic to corn? The year we bought the house, the farmer was growing sunflowers. It was lovely. The rest of the time we've lived there, he's grown corn. Sneeze, sneeze!

In addition to all the snot, my nose has had a rather rough week. I have a rather protuberant proboscis. This week I slammed it with a car door. That hurt real bad, let me tell ya. The top of Jackson's car door comes to a protuding point right at the level of the bridge of my nose. I reached for door handle, pulled the door open, and wham! It left a lovely bruise and a small knot that looks just like a big zit. I can't tell you how happy I am about that. Now when I sneeze, the bruise hurts as well. And it doesn't even rate a show of sympathy because everyone just thinks I have a touch of pizza face.

Then there is the cat, Evil Steve.

I don't know what her deal is. I feed her. I let her sleep behind my knees on the bed. I present an unshod foot whenever demanded for her nuzzling pleasure. I buy her toys and make sure her big brother doesn't do any lasting damage to her when he finally tires of her nagging, back-biting and occassional eye gouging.

Is it too much to ask that she be available for the occassional bit of furry comfort during a long and difficult week for me and my nose? Evidently, yes, it is too much.

I picked her up to snuggle against my cheek. She said "Put me down, bitch!"

Ever the optomist, I said, "Oooh, sweet baby Steve...you don't really mean that."
So she bit me. On the eyebrow.

I had blood running down from my eye like tears. If I'd been a statue of the madonna, y'all would've all been trooping through my living room to gape at me and ask for miracles. Sorry-ass cat.

Of course, how many times have I told Katie "Put the cat down! She doesn't like to be held and she is going to bite you. Put her down!" Uh-huh.

And the best part? The bite left a big scab which I decided was rather unsightly. I scrubbed it away and dabbed and blotted and hoped for the best. I got all the blood off and the puncture wound swelled just a bit. Now it looks like - you guessed it - a big zit.

I'm hoping next week is better.

Fuzzy Photo!

I'm probably just being picky, but...



If you have to be told, in writing, not to eat the plastic vegetation, then you are not real likely to get the whole "Faux Fruit" cuteness-thing.

I live on Woebegone Draw*.

*A draw is a lengthy dent in the earth that water drains down when it rains. Eventually, miles and miles from here, the draw will finally drain into a river. We like to pretend that draws are waterways, but they are really just big wide dips in the road.

One of the things Jackson and I did this weekend was go to the movies. We have a decent little theater here in Fake Cow County. The best thing about it is the full price movie admission is $4.25. Matinees for two bucks! It's small and the sound system is not the greatest, but it'll do. (I still miss the dollar movie at the old Granada Theatre, but that's another story.)

Being in a small town in a highly mobile society, our local theater has to appeal to the lowest common denominator to stay in business. That means kid movies and slasher movies. If you want to see some of the better stuff, you have to travel. So, we searched out the only multi-plex monstrosity in Big Flat City that was showing "A Praire Home Companion." (Last door on your right - dinkiest little screen in the whole place.)

Let me admit, up front, that I do not listen to Praire Home Companion as a general rule. I don't much care for the music. Its like baseball - I enjoy the games in person, live, but can't stand to watch it on TV or listen to it on the radio. This type of music is the same for me.

I enjoy going to small town oprys and jamborees. I like open air concerts on the Fourth of July. I love county festivals and fairs where this music and schtick is performed live. MostIy I have fun watching other people enjoying old jokes and old songs.

But, to steal from Cheesehead, Garrison Keillor is my radio boyfriend. He will always remain only a radio boyfriend because of his startling resemblance to a bullfrog. He looks like a child killer in a cheezy horror film. But then he speaks and all at once God is in his heaven and all is right with the world. Watching this movie is like sleeping in a feather bed under a heavy quilt on a cold, cold night.

I want to be him when I grow up.

Jackson and I got there early, but the theater was already filling up. We were the only ones there who were not drawing social security. A frosty-haired foursome arrived after we did, but still well before the previews. (Promptness is a virtue.) They sat right in front of us. The men had evidently imbibed a bit at the all-you-can-eat catfish buffet before heading over to the picture show. They were having a good time. They shot a lot of crummy old jokes back and forth before the lights dimmed. We smiled.

There is a bit of a scene at the end of the film when the group tells a joke. It is so old that they all know what's coming before its told. So old that they can each contribute a part of the punchline. So old - but we (the audience and the performers) all still laughed. Why do we still laugh? I don't know. Why do you still recite creeds even though you memorized them years ago? Is it the same thing?

The movie ended with an old hymn. As the credits rolled, one of the guys in front of us stood up and announced to his companions that he didn't need to go to church on Sunday. He'd already been. *rimshot*

I think he was right.

Friday Cemetery Blogging

I was looking for something to post for Friday. While I was going through some old photos, I came across some of my black and white stuff. I haven't done anything in black and white for quite some time. The B&W photos don't scan as well as the color ones do. I don't know why. But they have a great look and I'm going to have to do more.

These next two photos are from Caprock Canyon. (Hope you like them, Cowtown Pattie!) I took these seven years ago, while Jackson and I were hiking around the canyon on a date.





In amongst all the other stuff, I found one of my favorite scenes, which I didn't photograph as well as I would have liked. If you 'bigger it up' you'll see that the sign on the garage of the burned out building says:


Montague Volunteer Fire Department.

Hope you have a great weekend. We are sending Katie to my parents for the weekend, so we will have a child free weekend full of decadence and debauchery, the likes of which are seldom seen. We'll probably even see an R-rated movie at the theater. Or wander aimlessly around a flea market. And maybe skip breakfast. Yeah. I know you are jealous.

This has been a good week. I've learned some interesting and valuable stuff at work. I haven't felt the need to strangle any of my close personal acquaintances before dismembering and scattering their remains. And it rained.

Its also good to see some comments from some new readers. I hope you stick around. I hope we all have a restful weekend. See you next week!

You might agree with his theology, but...

First in a list of really bad ideas:

Forego your formal education, along about grade seven, for the wonders of weed. Smoke copious amounts of said plant until all higher brain functions have pretty much ceased.

2. Give up on the idea of gainful employment and instead determine to support yourself and your progeny through the glories of common theivery.

3. Make the less than fortuitous choice to break into a home without first ascertaining if said home is currently unoccupied.

4. Have the crap beaten out of yourself. This is Texas, after all, and you were just lucky the gentleman of the house did not avail himself of his sidearm while you were present in his abode.

5. Show up in court for your sentencing with an elaborate tatoo on the front of your neck, just above the collar of your bright orange inmate jumpsuit. Said large-lettered tatoo should read: "Only God Can Judge Me."

Friday Cemetery Blogging

...consider this Cemetery Blogging's tribute to Beavis and Butthead. Heh.

Things I Recommend

Amazon is always recommending things for me and I find it highly entertaining. So, I thought I'd recommend some things for you.

Firstly, you need some good music. My current favorite is the soundtrack from Desperado. I play it over and over and over. I'm a huge fan of rock and blues, especially when they mesh together and this CD has some of the best. I first bought it because of my love for Robert Rodriquez movies. (I've told you about my thing with RR, right? I think we both read all the same books when we were kids. ) I have continued to listen to it because the music is really outstanding. Antonio Banderas - all that and he can sing, too. Wow.

My other current music recommendation is Canciones de mi Padre by Linda Ronstadt. This may not be the best music for driving down the road, but it is the dead-on-perfect soundtrack for sitting on the porch, drinking something cold and watching the sun go down. (Sensing a theme? I'm discovering a real appreciation for a lot of Latin music. Everything from Santana to Ozomatli. I don't understand all the words, but I love the sound!)

Are you looking for a good show on TV? Watch Midsomer Murders. It comes on like six times on Sunday afternoons on the Biography channel. It makes a great background accompaniment to all those lazy Sunday projects - painting, laundry, or small engine repair. Like lots of British television, this show is dialogue driven, so it doesn't make too much difference if you are actually watching it or just listening to it. It makes me want to live in England. (Do they really have church bell-ringing guilds with cut-throat ringing contests? Really?)

If you need something cold to drink while sitting on the porch and you want to be kind of faux-healthy, try Lipton's Diet Green Tea with Citris. This stuff in so dang good. Its hard to find it in the stores around here because everyone in town is drinking it by the gallon. If you are seen in public with a bottle in hand, be prepared to have complete strangers strike up conversations centered around your obvious good taste in beverages. Its like you have the symbol for some secret tea-drinking society tattooed on your forehead. And that's ok.

You should eat bread and butter pickled jalepenos. Especially if they are homemade. Don't ask questions, just do it. You'll be happier and the world will be a better place. (Ahem. Rose, I have not had any of your homemade b&b jalepenos in like, two years. I'm just sayin'...)

What else would make you happy? I'm glad you asked. Converse Shoes. I love me some good ol' Chuck Taylors. Uh-huh. When you go to the Converse website, play around with the design your own option. And check out the knee-high Converses. These are SO DAMN COOL.

You also need at least two cats. They are an excellent return on your entertainment investment. Plus you'll live longer if you have cats. And that will give you more time to enjoy your Converses and pickled jalepenos.

And, since we're on the subject of tennis shoes - go out and buy a package of new socks. Nothing makes your feet happier than fluffy new socks. And if your feet ain't happy - you ain't happy.

That's probably plenty of recommendations for one day. What do you recommend?

Friday Cemetery Blogging

The cemetery at Silverton, which we explored last weekend was pretty nice, if a little boring. However, I did find this interesting juxtaposition. Maybe it explains how some of these people ended up here.




This doesn't have much to do with cemeteries, but M2 and I have come up with a new plan for our retirement. We've decided to become nuns who solve crimes. Kind of a Murder, They Prayed sort of a thing. There are a couple of kinks we'll have to work out. For one thing, I'll have to convert. But given my generally shallow brand loyalty with regards to religion, that shouldn't be much of a problem. The big hickey in the deal is our husbands. I figured we could just divorce 'em, but M2 said the church frowns on that. She says we'll have to hope they kick off of natural causes or we'll have to bump them off ourselves. Its still all in the planning stages, but I'll keep you updated.

Jackson says he hopes we become crime-solving Episcopalians.