Texas Tech Connection

I didn’t attend Texas Tech University in Lubbock, Texas, but a good many of my childhood friends are alumni of that institution. I grew up about 60 miles from Lubbock, and we followed the Red Raiders religiously. In fact, for my 16th birthday gift all I asked for was a date with my daddy to a Red Raiders football game. That date remains one of my best memories of all time.

Today I drove into Tallahassee for a solo lunch while Studly played golf. I was in line to order at Firehouse Subs when I realized the guy in front of me had on a red polo shirt with Texas Tech stitched on the back of the shirt in black. I did a double take and then tapped him on the shoulder.

“I like your shirt,” I said. “What’s your connection to Tech?”

Well that started a whole conversation with the man, his wife, and kids. They live in Alabama now, but he and his wife met at Texas Tech and are still rabid fans. They invited me to sit with them for lunch and I had such a great time. We threw out names of people from the Lubbock area, but never found anyone we knew in common. They both knew where my hometown of Floydada was which made me grin like an idiot.

The family was headed to DisneyWorld in Orlando, and as soon as we finished our lunch I wished them safe travels and we went our separate ways. That little connection made my day, though. Is that weird? Am I that desperate for conversation?

Discuss and talk to me. Apparently I need to connect.

Peace, people!

Not an Option

Not an Option

By Leslie Noyes

Failure, under the spotlight, turned down a wrong road, dined at the bad trough, lessons learned.

Heartache, walked on the tightrope, fell into an abyss on the highway to hell. Seeking penance forevermore.

Trust, sought, but not earned, squandered in bushels, by deeds too heinous to tell. Forgiveness sought.

Grace, offered in buckets, washed in the blood of the everlasting lamb. Earnest prayers offered with hands raised in praise.

Mysteries of Clonegam

Enjoy this beautiful post by inesemjphotography.com.

Making memories

Clonegam

This is one of the most peaceful views in the country. You are slowly driving uphill watching for pheasants and cars coming in the opposite direction, and when you finally reach the top of the hill you stop for a second to take in the view of the green fields dotted with ancient trees – a pastoral landscape rolling towards the Comeragh Mountains. Curraghmore Demesne, beautiful like a picture.

Clonegam

I parked my car at the Clonegam Church gate and used the stony steps to get on the other side of the wall. The whole herd of cows stopped grazing and stared at me. I crept along the wall and tried to blend with background. My target was too far away, and I didn’t want any cow companion to follow me. First I had to reach this group of trees encircled with stones.

Clonegam

If you enlarge this picture, you will see…

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Keeping Secrets

I have a big mouth. Not literally, though. As a kid I had to visit the dentist frequently so he could find creative ways to make room for all of my teeth. He told my folks my mouth was too small, to which they replied, “Hahaha!!” for days. Every time the story was retold to family and friends they laughed like it was the funniest story ever told.

We didn’t have oodles of money back then, and no dental insurance, so braces were out of the question. Our dentist, Dr. Craig, bless his heart, worked to strategically pull several of my permanent teeth so that my teeth weren’t too crooked. He was almost successful, but later in life I had some work done to correct what I thought of as my vampire teeth. Dr. Craig would have approved, I think.

Mine weren’t quite this bad, but you get the picture:

Back to my big mouth, which by now you should know is figurative rather than literal. I positively can not keep a secret. Not a fun one anyway. I can keep your “I can’t stand my boss and have been interviewing for new jobs” secret. I can keep your, “I’ve won the lottery and am not telling anyone other than you until I’ve seen an attorney” secret. But I cannot keep the “We’re having a surprise party for someone and you absolutely can’t leak the news!”

I have one of those fun secrets right now, and if the person the secret is for hasn’t totally figured it out yet it is a miracle. I don’t give hints–it’s just that I’ll say things like, “When we see A_____ in a few days….” and then I panic because I remember he doesn’t know A____ is coming, so I have to say, “I keep forgetting A_____ isn’t going to be there.” Then I act all upset so he’ll think I’m losing my mind a little. Heh. I’m not sure it’s an act anymore.

I must hold myself together through next Wednesday when all will be revealed. It’s too bad I can’t see a dentist to help me through this problem with my mouth.

Peace, people.

Under a Cloud

Lately I feel like I’m living under a cloud. Not a happy, fluffy cloud, but not a threatening one, either. Just a cloud.

Well, that one is a little too cute, and vaguely resembles a politician, but you get my drift.

Am I depressed? Maybe. Fall is always a tough time for me. My mom passed away on a beautiful fall day 22 years ago, and since her death I view the season with mixed emotions. Fall has always been my favorite time of year, but some days, like this one, it’s difficult to muster the energy to get out of bed.

Thank goodness I have some upcoming events to prepare for, forcing me to get a move on, otherwise I’d burrow beneath my covers and perhaps never emerge again. That’s pretty pitiful, am I right?

I know this all will pass. Today just seems very hard–and it’s only 7:30 a.m. Thanks for reading. Some days writing this blog is my motivation to participate in life. Now go away little cloud.

Peace people.

GOP Believe Their Tax Plan Will Pass

C’mon people. Don’t let congress get away with this charade. Read more at alotfromlydia.wordpress.com

A lot from Lydia

How is it the GOP is confident their tax plan will pass? When did healthcare cuts become part of the tax bill?

“Apparently somewhere between the salad course and the entree, it was decided that permanent corporate tax cuts should be paid for, in part, by kicking 13 million Americans off their health care and raising premiums for millions more,” ~Senator Ron Wyden, Top Democrat on Finance panel

This tax bill is a covert attempt to gut healthcare, but the GOP somehow believes it’s different than previous failed attacks on ACA. Why? This bill gives money to the billionaires who make large donations to campaign funds of GOP members, so more congressional republicans are likely to vote yes to keep their cash cows lactating.

Those GOP members who were outspoken when they voted against the previous attacks on healthcare might put greed over the health needs of average Americans…

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Some New And Old Political Shinola

Great stuff from a friend. These are the ideas I ponder even as I acknowledge I’m part of the problem. Read more at 1xpad.com.

1XPAD.COM

I enjoy politics because I enjoy process and policy. Governance. While there is truth in the now tried, true and, trite cliché: politics is showbiz for ugly people, but what’s really unattractive about politics is the ideological tribal mask one must wear to climb the totem of the multimedia mediated State.

At one point in my lifetime there were progressive Republicans, conservative Democrats, and numerous species of the two party system that split the damn difference in deference to the political  issue at hand.

Let me muddle something for ya. Trump and many of his supporters are revanchist. And many in the so-called progressive resistance, they are actually the new conservatives. What both sides seem to lack is an appreciation of the republican process. An understanding of the rules. Which is why personality politics is trumping regular order legislative action, and why the executive branch often courts and sparks a…

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Acclimated

Studly Doright and I have been in the Tallahassee area for four years now, having moved from central Illinois where we resided for eight years. This morning I realized I’d finally acclimated to the weather here when upon hearing that the high in our area would be in the mid-60’s today, I said to myself, “Better wear a sweater!”

I’m not complaining. I’ll wear that sweater all winter thanking my lucky stars I don’t need a heavy jacket and snow boots.

Truly everything is relative. We lived in North Dakota for four years where an ambient temperature of 34° on a winter day had folks digging out their bikinis and sunscreen.

Even in the mid-west the definition of cold is a matter of season. Forty degrees in November feels cool, while the same temperature in February is positively balmy.

The most difficult part for me when the weather turns cool is having to put away my flip flops. Although, I have been known to pull this stunt:

But only to take out the garbage. If I go downtown, I’ll put my pants on….

No matter where you are, I hope you have a great day. Pants optional.

Peace, people.

Driving Home

I successfully picked up Studly Doright’s new pickup truck in Houston on Friday night. My flight into Houston Intercontinental was delayed, but not late enough that I could escape evening rush hour traffic. Fortunately Studly had arranged for a gentleman from the dealership to meet me at the airport, so I didn’t have to rely on Lyft or Uber.

The salesman, Tim, was an interesting guy and the thirty minute drive to the dealership in Tomball went quickly. I was in the truck within another 30 minutes and headed home. So much for seeing the big city, but my plan was to get as far east on Interstate 10 as possible so I could make it home on Saturday evening. The best laid plans of mice and women—Bwahaha!

Gamely I shifted gears in stop and go traffic. To my credit, I only killed the engine once, but I over revved a bit and probably upshifted when I should’ve downshifted a couple of times, but before long I was back in the groove of driving a manual transmission vehicle.

By the time I reached the outskirts of Houston, though, I was worn out. I saw the sign for Buccees huge service station/store in Bay Town and pulled in for a rest. Normally I’d spend some time wandering around and ogling the place, but I made a beeline for the bathroom, then grabbed a water and a barbecue brisket sandwich.

Oddly enough, there’s no place to sit and enjoy a meal in Buccees, a store roughly the size of Rhode Island, so I ate standing up next to a couple who were heading back to Houston after a trip to New Orleans. We had a nice visit and we wished each other safe travels which prompted the husband to tell me that there’d been a bad accident on the eastbound side of I-10 and traffic was backed up for several miles.

That, combined with my tiredness prompted me to go back in the store to enquire about nearby hotels. A very few minutes later I was ensconced in a nice room with a glass of wine. I reasoned that I’d get up extra early on Saturday and make up for my relatively early end to the evening. Again, bwahaha!

According to my Fitbit app I slept a total of two hours and 44 minutes on Friday night. Around 5:30 a.m., I gave up on sleeping. I showered hoping to shock myself awake, and for awhile I felt okay. Sirius/XM radio helped and I sang along with the 60’s and 70’s channels or listened to NPR for many miles.

I also drank a lot of caffeinated drinks. And subsequently had to stop frequently to empty myself of caffeinated drinks. I wasn’t making much forward progress, and my need to sleep was gaining ground.

Studly called my cell phone around 2:30 and after listening to my sad tale, told me to stop fighting the need to sleep and get a room, so a mere five hours from Doright Manor I exited the interstate and checked into a Holiday Inn.

Now I’d only packed for one night’s stay so I had to go to a nearby mall to purchase a clean T-shirt and undies. My jeans and socks would have to suffice for one more day.

I would love to say I slept like a baby on Saturday night, and I did–a very colicky baby. Again I got up around 5 a.m. and this time emerged into a gray world and a steady rain. I did make better time and was home by two that afternoon. I kissed Studly and handed his new truck keys over. He tucked me into bed and then I didn’t hear another peep until he joined me around nine.

I know for sure I’m not cut out to be a long haul truck driver, so I’m crossing that career off my list. The pickup was fun to drive, though, and I’m glad I made the trip.

The Christmas cards Facebook banned

Notes from the U.K.

A British artist’s Christmas cards were recently banned from Facebook for having “adult content.”

Adult content? That’s prude-speak for sex.

The banned cards showed a robin, a stag, and a squirrel, none of them doing anything unconventional for Christmas cards, although in fairness these are creatures who, in the normal course of their lives will either have sex or at least try to.

So why the ban? The artist says didn’t even describe the robin as being a red[gasp]breast, just a robin. She’s tried to get Facebook to reconsider but you can pretty well guess how well that’s worked.

It could be that the decision-making algorithm looked at some of her other cards. One reads, “No / Fucking / Ho.” But that’s not the one she was promoting, Still, thought the algorithm, There’s got to be something wrong with that robin.

The artist has a disabled husband and…

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