Goals, Goals, Everywhere Goals, Blocking the Scenery, Breakin' My Mind

Speaking of quotes, here is another of my favorites:

"Distrust any enterprise that requires new clothes." - Henry David Thoreau

We are taught that we must have goals to have a meaningful life. If you don't have a goal, you don't have a destination. If you don't have a destination, you can't take a journey. And we all know life is a journey, right? No goals = no life. That's what I hear.

Everybody I know has goals. For some they are material, for others - more ephemeral. Jackson's goal is to one day get his PhD. I have friends who want to run the various dog and pony shows they have devoted their lives to. Others are saving for retirement or getting more education or are bursting to travel.

Not to be outdone, I too have a goal. Just one. (There used to be two, but now I own a motorcycle. And it is big and will whup yer butt all over the highway! Oh, yeah!) My goal is to wear jeans. Everyday.

Yep. That's it. Blue Jeans. Someday I will be in a position that will allow me to wear jeans all day, every day. Jeans. Blue ones. It may mean I am terminally unemployed. It may mean I have taken over the world. I am working towards the day when there will be no more panty-hose, no more dress pants, no more By God Casual Friday tantalizing you with what could be but currently isn't. Just blue jeans. That's my goal.

Certain Dark Gardens

I am a huge fan of quotes, quips and one-liners. There is something immensely satisfying about a masterfully crafted sentence or two capable of evoking an encyclopedia of meaning in just a few words.

One of my all time favorite quotes is this one from Robert Louis Stevenson:

"Some places speak distinctly. Certain dark gardens cry aloud for a murder; certain old houses demand to be haunted; certain coasts are set apart for shipwrecks."

In my mind this quote is irrevocably linked to this photo:




This is probably my all-time favorite photograph. I took it several years ago at the old zoo in Pueblo, Colorado. This was part of a closed-down exhibit that had housed monkeys. I imagine it has been renovated and reopened by now. Probably all bright and shiny and full of happyish spider monkeys. Some days I can tell you exactly what is at the top of those stairs and some days I have no idea.

I tell you that to ask you this - do you have a favorite painting? Something you lust after? Something you own? You lost? My favorite painting looks a lot like this photo. I saw it in an upstairs room of a junky antique store on Route 66 in Amarillo. Imagine a stone cross at the top of the staircase in this photo. It is night and a young girl in a white shift is draped over the monument, probably mourning. It was horribly hokey and I didn't buy it. I have regretted it ever since. I can't tell you what I really like about it, but it is a quest for me. Each antique store, garage sale, or thrift shop I enter could be hiding that painting. One day I will track it down. I have no idea why I was/am so fixated with the painting. [Insert psychoanalytic mumbo-jumbo here.] It is really frighteningly bad - the proportion was screwy, the subject matter maudlin, but...

What do you quest for?

Reasons why it was Monday:

1. Aimed a loud and abrasive lecture at the heater vent in my office. It went something like this: "You are a friggin' heater. You either heat or shut the hell off. Get it? If you don't have anything warm to say then shut yer ass off! Why do you continuously blow air, hour after hour, day after day, when you are not friggin' heating? My toes are numb. I can't type with blue fingers, and I have to wear my hair down all the time to try to keep my ears warm! It is damn well warmer outside than it is in this office. What the bloody blue hell is your problem?!!" Realized it was a Monday for others as well when this highly professional outburst was met only with faint applause from down the hall.

2. Absorbed the joys of the day through a steely filter of back pain. Decided the best possible remedy was a hot bath, steaming with an ungodly amount of milk bath. Got the water just right. Got the milk mixture dissolved and doin' its thing. Got ready to step in and discovered there is a full roll of toilet paper sitting terribly out of place on the edge of the tub. Discovered this as said roll was halfway through a glorious arcing dive into the bath water. Roll of paper sank into the milky water, which - thanks to milk - was the same color as the paper. Managed to fish out the roll and a huge hunk of melting paper. Climbed into the tub. Settled back. Started to realize why this toilet paper promises not to clog your septic system. Spent 10 minutes rolling tiny pieces of toilet paper off my skin and into a growing pile on the edge of the tub.

3. Finally gave up and started to step out of the tub. Was confronted with a lifesize reflection of self in mirrors that surround tub and wondered what sort of sick bastard designed this bathroom? The only other more tastelessly placed mirror I've ever been victimized by was a full length mirror on the inside of a bathroom stall door at a gas station in Tucumcari, New Mexico. Found a couple more pieces of toilet paper, stuck to self, thanks to mirror.

4. Put on comfy sweats and settled down to watch Mystery Monday on BBC America. Tomorrow is not Monday.

Hanging out by the well...

Co-Worker: "He gets paid in goats?"
Me: "Yeah. He's working for his wife's father. I asked how much his father-in-law is paying him. He told me they live on the farm for free and last week he got about $500 worth of rabbits and cages and goats. Mostly goats."
Co-Worker: "Goats? They are paying him with livestock?"
Me: "Yep. So he says."
Co-Worker: "So, does Jacob's wife have a sister, or what?"

See! We have been paying attention in Sunday School!

Happy Birthday, Jackson.

Nice hat.

Stuff of Wonder and Amazement

Check out what Jackson got me for Christmas! It is sooo cool. Now when I am driving down the highway in Bob T. Truck and I slam on the brakes to avoid one of those freakishly huge jackrabbits, I can yell "Sweet Jesus on a Spring!"

Speaking of sooo cool, check out this article on a speech by Bill Moyers. He rocks.

Moderately

And finally - this year's card! Hope you like it. Have a Happy New Year and hopefully you will be blissfully bereft of boozers.

As near as I and Janet the Archivist can tell, this is the entire collection of cards. (Except for that one with the spider who caught a man in her web which was so dreadfully below par that none of us even saved it. But we won't mention that here.) Just like every year I am resolved to find my card photo early and avoid the holiday rush. And just like every year I will probably be skulking the cemeteries sometime around December 15th with a harried and desperate look about my person that many a caretaker has mistaken for the grief of facing the holidays without Aunt Whomever.

Spirited

The year 2000 was a bit of a ho-hum card year. I do kind of like the vague, twilight feel of this photo, however.

Still laughing...

Last year I was in a rush. (As usual.) Down to two weeks before Christmas and no card photo. (Nothing new.) I took the afternoon off from work and made a quick trip to Amarillo. Just after passing through the cemetery gates, I turned a bend and tuh-duh! The Hallmark Card is one of my all time favorites.

Pals

This one is not one of my favorites, but I was hard up this year. Don't know when this was, probably 1996 or 1997. The scan doesn't let you read the inscription which says: "Pals" and lists the names of William H. Bonney, Charlie Bowdre and Tom O'Folliard. This is one of the gravesites of Billy the Kid. Notice The Kid is still in jail. This is in Fort Sumner, New Mexico.

Howdy Folks! Y'all looking for something nice in a used stone?

I am assuming (hoping?) this was a mock stone to illustrate the quality of the cemetery superstore's machine made tombstones. The blue sign says "This monument is available for sale. To be moved to selected lots." However, it had nothing setting it apart from the stones surrounding it, except for the terse little blue sign. Well, that and the insipid "Her hugs were the best" inscription. But who knows? Maybe they were the best.

Keep The Home Fires Burning

This card is my favorite so far, although there are a couple of others that come close. I took this photo while visiting my brother who was the newspaper editor for a small town in the Kiamichi Mountains of Oklahoma. One evening he got a call that the antiques store, in an impressive three story Victorian gingerbread house, was on fire. He rushed out to take photos of the inferno and I grabbed my camera and tagged along. Look closely at the middle and you will see an antique sewing machine silhouetted in the flame. This was in 1995 or 1996.

Queen of the Single Wide...

I took this photo on my honeymoon and sent it out for Christmas 1999. It is on the side of a God-forsaken stretch of road between Los Alamos, New Mexico and Juarez, Mexico. This charming fixer-upper was the only structure visible for miles and miles...and miles...

Slaughter - The First Card

This card was the first - 1994. I was on vacation in Saint Jo, Texas. (Don't laugh - it was really interesting and I had a great time.) While in the local cemetery, skulking around, I turned to take a look at this field of stones, all facing the other direction. The only inscription showing was on the large stone in the back. It says "Slaughter". That was the inspiration and the beginning.

The Last Noel

This is a card I sent out in 1997 or 1998. Maybe '96? Who knows?
I should have been keeping better records of this. So, for the next few weeks, as time allows, I plan on posting my last 10 years of Christmas cards. If I am guessing right, 2004 is the 10 year anniversary of Skewed View Christmas Cards.

Head Swells, Then Bursts

I am a superhero. I can do anything. Yes - Its true. Just ask my niece. Whenever I say "Who is Ray-Ray?" she knows to say "Ray-Ray is Wonder Woman".

My powers, which are far beyond those of mortal men, were put to the test this weekend. Jackson was in the hospital with a gaping, toothless, mouth-shaped wound in his gut. (Not to fear - it was supposed to be there.) The wound has to be packed so it can heal from the inside out.

We were about to leave to go home on Sunday when the nurse, a very nice Asian lady with a heavy accent, came in to change the dressing.

"Stand back," I said, adopting my best superhero pose. "I will have to do this at home, so let me try it out now."

The nurse gave me the packing material (unfortunately not bubble wrap) and some long, wooden-handled Q-tippy things to poke it in with. I went to work and was doing what I thought was a damn good job - not feeling woozy or nuthin.

Then, just as I finished -- BLAM! The wooden Q-tip handle thing snapped in two! ZING - half of it flew across the room!

"Ahh..." said the nurse. "You a little tense, no?"

Heh. Heh. Maybe just a little. Heh.

Check out the lizard... 

Let's Go to a Cafeteria for Supper Tonight!

I took a huge and probably irrevokable step towards looming, hulking, stale-smelling adulthood this week. We purchased matching recliners.

Not only that, when we got them home, I discovered the only way to satisfactorily place them in the house is to use the Grandma design schema. You know - two chairs next to each other seperated by a small table on which to pile the remote, your glasses, and whatever you are attempting read during the commercials.

That is bad enough. But... then I realized there is a perfect space between the chairs and slightly under the table for the wastebasket. At first I was excited about this - the elegant efficiency of the whole arrangement. But then I took a step back and realized I had achieved an almost perfect replica of my grandmother's living room.

Its soooo ordinary. Like mashed potatoes...

Damn, That Really Hurts...

You Are Mashed Potatoes

Oridnary, comforting, and more than a little predictable You're the glue that holds everyone together.

What Part of Thanksgiving Are You?

Sorry Cat Walks on Scanner

I have this year's Christmas card photo. Now I just have to come up with a caption. Don't get excited - it ain't that great. Sort of like this one from 2002 - does anybody even remember it? Not me! I just found it in my desk!