Friday, September 30, 2005
BROWNIES!!!
Brownies from Corner Bakery must have tryptophan (the sleepy stuff in turkey) in them because after one of the Cheesecake Brownies, I'm tuckered out! I suggest that companies instate a workday naptime. I wouldn't mind coming to work early if naptime was offered. Really...
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Kenny "Clairvoyant" Rogers
All things considered under a standard cost-benefit, pro-con analysis, this morning was beautiful. I may have woken up with a little less positive perception of the breaking day, but that's in part due to a frog-feeding in pitch-dark and unfamiliar surroudings the night before.
A couple of cups of espresso roast and a front-page SportsDay story about Texas Rangers Starting Pitcher Kenny Rogers really got me going. It was quite a hoot to read that he is "extremely certain" that he's going to be off the Rangers' roster. Way to go, Soothsayer Kenny. A blind, deaf mute with a limp and penchant for Matlock could have found that on a map.
Then, as luck would have it, I walked out my door without forgetting a single article. That, my friends, is a triumph in itself. But as if that wasn't enough, I was greeted at the door by a lovely chilled wind that sported airs of autumn. Immediately, I smiled and put forward my right foot, intent on finding what other surprises were in store.
So far, so good as I briskly traversed the sidewalk on my daily pilgrimage to the train station. The cool air against my stocking-clad legs was entirely pleasant. With the cold front in the air, the train, the market and my music turned up, it finally felt like a city, a place I wanted to be. I finally felt at home.
My blood was pumping and my mood was lifting as I sat down under the awning at the station. Soon, I noticed that my smile was infecting those around me. A girl, a student, slightly shivering in her thin green jacket, waved to grab my attention. "I looooooooooove those shoes!" she giddily said. "Your style is just so cute!" Unabashedly flattered, I thanked the girl, and immediately returned to the article I was poring over in the Metro section.
The train arrived (late, I might add) and I hopped aboard only to find a lack of vacant seats. I don't mind standing, but in heels, the corrugated flooring makes the trip rather precarious. Instead of bothering about it, I grasped the stainless rail and braced myself for departure. Nothing would spoil my beautiful morning, I thought, not even an unpleasant commute.
Kids, those innocent little pre-pubescent things, have a way about them. One in a stroller and a bright pink slicker with matching mary janes was making faces at me on the train. So, I made faces back. Her mother was so amused by my response. "Good spirits in the morning ... She knows you're good people!"
Then, while glancing about the train, doing my morning people-watch, I noticed the man next to me sporting an Aggie ring.
"What class are you?"
"I'm sorry?"
"What class?"
"Oh ... '94, you?"
"'05, just this May, actually."
"Well! Congratulations then!"
We got into the usual exchange. His name was Kurt, he's an architectural photographer. I thought I was the only weirdo that always carried a camera bag with a carabiner clip fastened to it. I was wrong.
We both got off a Union, but went our separate ways. I was greeted once more by the blustery morning, and compared to normal Texas weather, a morning in the low 60s is blustery.
I met Ashlee on the platform exiting the train. She's excited, and it's justifiable. She has a love interest, Kevin, and she'll be in his arms tomorrow, she says. Good for you, Ashlee. I'm happy for you.
The clan will be reunited tomorrow. It's been two long months since I've seen my family. I miss them... I hope they missed me too.
Wild horses, folks... Wild...
A couple of cups of espresso roast and a front-page SportsDay story about Texas Rangers Starting Pitcher Kenny Rogers really got me going. It was quite a hoot to read that he is "extremely certain" that he's going to be off the Rangers' roster. Way to go, Soothsayer Kenny. A blind, deaf mute with a limp and penchant for Matlock could have found that on a map.
Then, as luck would have it, I walked out my door without forgetting a single article. That, my friends, is a triumph in itself. But as if that wasn't enough, I was greeted at the door by a lovely chilled wind that sported airs of autumn. Immediately, I smiled and put forward my right foot, intent on finding what other surprises were in store.
So far, so good as I briskly traversed the sidewalk on my daily pilgrimage to the train station. The cool air against my stocking-clad legs was entirely pleasant. With the cold front in the air, the train, the market and my music turned up, it finally felt like a city, a place I wanted to be. I finally felt at home.
My blood was pumping and my mood was lifting as I sat down under the awning at the station. Soon, I noticed that my smile was infecting those around me. A girl, a student, slightly shivering in her thin green jacket, waved to grab my attention. "I looooooooooove those shoes!" she giddily said. "Your style is just so cute!" Unabashedly flattered, I thanked the girl, and immediately returned to the article I was poring over in the Metro section.
The train arrived (late, I might add) and I hopped aboard only to find a lack of vacant seats. I don't mind standing, but in heels, the corrugated flooring makes the trip rather precarious. Instead of bothering about it, I grasped the stainless rail and braced myself for departure. Nothing would spoil my beautiful morning, I thought, not even an unpleasant commute.
Kids, those innocent little pre-pubescent things, have a way about them. One in a stroller and a bright pink slicker with matching mary janes was making faces at me on the train. So, I made faces back. Her mother was so amused by my response. "Good spirits in the morning ... She knows you're good people!"
Then, while glancing about the train, doing my morning people-watch, I noticed the man next to me sporting an Aggie ring.
"What class are you?"
"I'm sorry?"
"What class?"
"Oh ... '94, you?"
"'05, just this May, actually."
"Well! Congratulations then!"
We got into the usual exchange. His name was Kurt, he's an architectural photographer. I thought I was the only weirdo that always carried a camera bag with a carabiner clip fastened to it. I was wrong.
We both got off a Union, but went our separate ways. I was greeted once more by the blustery morning, and compared to normal Texas weather, a morning in the low 60s is blustery.
I met Ashlee on the platform exiting the train. She's excited, and it's justifiable. She has a love interest, Kevin, and she'll be in his arms tomorrow, she says. Good for you, Ashlee. I'm happy for you.
The clan will be reunited tomorrow. It's been two long months since I've seen my family. I miss them... I hope they missed me too.
Wild horses, folks... Wild...
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Pictures, lately...
A scene from the fourth floor.
The Hyatt, before the storm...
Dave likes my black bean quiche...
Now, folks... THIS IS SHEER INSANITY!!!See that innocuous little sighn to the lower right? It says "Gas Line"! LINES? FOR GAS? Instead, I would have put "Paranoia Chute." But, that's just me.
This is all we saw of Rita. And there was no rain to speak of.
Republicans for Voldemort
The sunset after Rita...
Friday, September 23, 2005
More Rita Images
Latest images from NOAA's satellites. Rita is churning along the Texas-Louisiana Gulf Coast with Hurricane force winds of about 120 mph. She's been downgraded to a Cat-3 storm, but the light blue box over parts of Louisiana indicate areas that are under a tornado watch. Other areas are cautioned on the possibility of widespread flooding.
New Rita Images
Reunion Arena must have been overtly Hindu, because its second incarnation is a storm shelter for Gulf Coast hurricane evacuees. That's right, Reunion Arena is again a shelter for those seeking refuge from a monster hurricane. As you can see, Rita is coming dangerously close to the Texas coast. The thing I'm wondering about is why all this emphasis of evacuation hasn't been put on the small East Texas towns that Rita may hit the hardest. Of course, nothing is certain and no guarantees can be made when it comes to predicting the effects of unpredictable storms, but we have a general idea, according to the NOAA image above, that Rita will make landfall as a Category 2 or 1 storm near Beaumont, Texas. Has Beaumont been evacuated? I don't know, because it's not being covered.
Why?
That's a really good question, now isn't it?
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Bathroom shame
Ever noticed that some people don't really acknowledge you if they're walking to or from a public restroom? What are they ashamed of? Really, people. We all have been in public restrooms, and honestly, there are only a handful of activities that you can do while in a public restroom. We all know what they are, and two of them are activities that EVERYONE does.
So why the shame? Why do these people not return a greeting after exiting the public toilet?
Here's my theory: We, as a species, aren't ready to embrace the "unspeakable" bodily functions of others outside of a joke or a frat party. Honestly, there's nothing to be ashamed of, but we instill this modest and proper behavior into our society. Why? Because it is, and always will be, a dirty little secret.
There is one thing that I know, I'm not ashamed.
Be warned. If you exit a public toilet around me, I will proceed to greet you and/or ask you if you feel better.
So why the shame? Why do these people not return a greeting after exiting the public toilet?
Here's my theory: We, as a species, aren't ready to embrace the "unspeakable" bodily functions of others outside of a joke or a frat party. Honestly, there's nothing to be ashamed of, but we instill this modest and proper behavior into our society. Why? Because it is, and always will be, a dirty little secret.
There is one thing that I know, I'm not ashamed.
Be warned. If you exit a public toilet around me, I will proceed to greet you and/or ask you if you feel better.
Another Rita Update
Traffic is stalled on evacuation routes just near my parents' neighborhood. So, this is bound to make my father doubly paranoid. The contra-flow traffic plan hasn't really worked since it has taken some people several hours just to travel 30 miles north of Houston. About 1.8 million Houstonians have participated in this mass exodus.
On the family front, all is well... I suppose...
Not enough calling and updating, if you ask me!
*** Latest Rita update from the family***
Kara had to go to work today, but I'm pretty sure that hair is one of the least concerns of her clients, which are located near a major U.S. river with a hurricane closing in on the Texas shore. Their worries of flooding and wind damage should be foremost; however, I'm sure that there are some that wouldn't miss an appointment to their hair stylist for anything.
Mom and Dad are battening down the hatches. They're trying to keep Jessica from panicking, which is weird because she's in Madisonville, a small town at the junction of I-45 and Hwy. 21. Jessica always panics. Mom is bringing in as many potted plants as she can. Dad is working on preparations as well... I hope he stashed a bottle of Crown for the storm.
Phillip and Megan: haven't heard. Sara: I'm sure she's fine.
Reading on Rita
Do a search for "Houston" and "Rita" on Blogger.com and you'll get more than enough hits to give you a good impression of what's going on in the city. Reports are streaming in that people who stay in the path of Hurricane Rita are taking great preventative measures, i.e. cooking all meats and perishables (bar-be-que time) and drinking all beverages that will not be savory when warm (chugging the last few Budweisers in the fridge).
A lot of neighborhoods are banding together in this effort (not just the eating and boozing). A few reports have come in from separate areas in the city that neighbors are helping eachother move furniture to higher ground and board up windows.
How do I feel about my parents and siblings remaining in the area? I'm worried. Very worried.
In fact, I can't get it off of my mind.
I hope you guys are okay. Will you PLEASE call me back!? PLEASE???
Dear friend across the pond,
I always cook... Feel free to send me recipies whenever! I'm always looking for a new side dish, or main dish, or just a dish, for that matter. Dish ... now it's lost ... meaning is lost.
I grew up on outdated British comedy. Oh, I miss the days of "Are you being served?" and "Keeping up Appearances." But, I've heard raves about "The league of gentlemen," and all of it's nasty hilarity (bodies and hatchets, included of course).
Benny Hill, you say? Genius, I hear. I don't get to watch the telly too much anymore. So busy with domesticity and youngblood angst. That, and pouring over the blogs of strangers, reading into the details of their everyday lives. It's like remote voyeurism, dontcha think?
I just had a Cherry Limeade. Organic, no less.
I grew up on outdated British comedy. Oh, I miss the days of "Are you being served?" and "Keeping up Appearances." But, I've heard raves about "The league of gentlemen," and all of it's nasty hilarity (bodies and hatchets, included of course).
Benny Hill, you say? Genius, I hear. I don't get to watch the telly too much anymore. So busy with domesticity and youngblood angst. That, and pouring over the blogs of strangers, reading into the details of their everyday lives. It's like remote voyeurism, dontcha think?
I just had a Cherry Limeade. Organic, no less.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
I feel dirty...
Not because of anything indecent, mind you. It's because I actually agree with Michele Malkin, conservative columnist extraordinaire. Her column, published in the Jewish World Review and titled "Not another Homeland Security hack."
Scathing? Yes. But someone with conservative credentials has to say it. And might I add that the conservative ilk that once crowded around Bush's tower of power are now defecting and seeing what I, an independent, have seen for quite some time: his blatant incompetence and cronyism.
Ms. Meyers: If you are allowed to take on this responsibility, the position and salary increase that comes with it, I hope to God that you will also stand firm to take responsibility in any way that your administration %$&#* up the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency.
Scathing? Yes. But someone with conservative credentials has to say it. And might I add that the conservative ilk that once crowded around Bush's tower of power are now defecting and seeing what I, an independent, have seen for quite some time: his blatant incompetence and cronyism.
Ms. Meyers: If you are allowed to take on this responsibility, the position and salary increase that comes with it, I hope to God that you will also stand firm to take responsibility in any way that your administration %$&#* up the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency.
*end rant*
Tense? I'm not tense...
That is, if you mean that my muscles are constantly wrenched into a state that is the opposite of relaxed, then no, I'm not tense...
BUT... as far as PAST TENSE, yeah... I think I might be that. Well, in psychodynamicgroove's case, I'm sure of it.
Getting on with it, though, I'd like to say that life is confusing. When you think you have it figured out, folks, think again. It's always changing in circumstance. I'm looking, be it not searching, for constance. Why? It's pointless. I read Belle's moving memoirs and I think that she's got it figured out (except for the fact that she works for FOX news). I know that she's got a few years on me, but we're both shooting for similar goals (well, mine are a bit more altruistic in a seemingly less materialistic environment).
I'm young. I know that. But for some reason I feel like I should keep trusting my heart and my gut while remaining skeptical of my easily fooled faith. My mind is telling me this, so that's why it doesn't render the choice. How can you choose between heart and mind when your mind is doing the choosing? Yeah... that's what I thought, too.
So, I'll break out of the 'mothership' for lunch and pass the Deathstar on my way to some West End eatery. Or, I could bore myself ... whichever comes first.
BUT... as far as PAST TENSE, yeah... I think I might be that. Well, in psychodynamicgroove's case, I'm sure of it.
Getting on with it, though, I'd like to say that life is confusing. When you think you have it figured out, folks, think again. It's always changing in circumstance. I'm looking, be it not searching, for constance. Why? It's pointless. I read Belle's moving memoirs and I think that she's got it figured out (except for the fact that she works for FOX news). I know that she's got a few years on me, but we're both shooting for similar goals (well, mine are a bit more altruistic in a seemingly less materialistic environment).
I'm young. I know that. But for some reason I feel like I should keep trusting my heart and my gut while remaining skeptical of my easily fooled faith. My mind is telling me this, so that's why it doesn't render the choice. How can you choose between heart and mind when your mind is doing the choosing? Yeah... that's what I thought, too.
So, I'll break out of the 'mothership' for lunch and pass the Deathstar on my way to some West End eatery. Or, I could bore myself ... whichever comes first.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
And Tuesday sucketh...
I went to bed on the wrong side of the bed ... isn't that right, pookie? That's okay, because in hurried moments to and from the coffee maker, you tried to make my morning with sugar and cream. It was all in vain, because when opening the hatch to the adventure-mobile, my tumbly-wumbly fell off the files. I don't think this is a job for all the king's horses and men. Thank God for lifetime warranties.
Getting to the office was gravy, with my cracked and not-so-thermal mug, I trudged to the entryway and to the elevator. Breakfast at desk and I'll probably have lunch here too.
Today is the big day for the applicants. I devised a silly rating system last night full of quotients and averages. We'll see how it compares to the other measuring-ups.
And then, God created letters, and the world was at peace.
Getting to the office was gravy, with my cracked and not-so-thermal mug, I trudged to the entryway and to the elevator. Breakfast at desk and I'll probably have lunch here too.
Today is the big day for the applicants. I devised a silly rating system last night full of quotients and averages. We'll see how it compares to the other measuring-ups.
And then, God created letters, and the world was at peace.
Monday, September 19, 2005
All of the sudden...
Monday is beautiful.
I just read an article about North Korea's abandonment of nuclear armaments. That's music to my ears! They're dropping the proliferation in exchange for energy aid, economic cooperation and the respect of eachother's sovreignty.
B-E-A-utiful.
That's all they needed. And hopefully, God willing, this bridge will allow North Koreans to see what freedom is, and maybe this diplomacy will change the regime from the inside out. Before long, I hope the sounds of a populace renouncing their "Dear Leader" will be a chorus of forgiveness to both North and South.
Also, I have discovered the new 8th wonder of the world... Carrot Cake Cookies... HOW DIVINE!!!
I just read an article about North Korea's abandonment of nuclear armaments. That's music to my ears! They're dropping the proliferation in exchange for energy aid, economic cooperation and the respect of eachother's sovreignty.
B-E-A-utiful.
That's all they needed. And hopefully, God willing, this bridge will allow North Koreans to see what freedom is, and maybe this diplomacy will change the regime from the inside out. Before long, I hope the sounds of a populace renouncing their "Dear Leader" will be a chorus of forgiveness to both North and South.
Also, I have discovered the new 8th wonder of the world... Carrot Cake Cookies... HOW DIVINE!!!
A lump in my throat...
I just read his blog, and it was no easy task to keep myself from commenting on it. He published his thoughts, and although there were no names attached to them, I know in my heart who he's talking about. But he's wrong.
Maybe my refusal to talk to him after things ended wasn't such a good idea. I'm learning, you know... I'm seeing that I don't always know what is best. And that makes me think, that, if I don't know what's best, then how do I know that I'm doing my best, or what's best for me? It kind of makes me re-evaluate my decisions lately. Do I really know what I'm doing?
I'm going through life just guessing and hoping for the best. It's a rather romantic way to live, but it definately spawns large amounts of uncertainty. I've become impassioned about myself and my pursuits. I hope that it's the right direction, though.
If it sounds like I'm looking at things differently, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm seeing myself just a little bit clearer. Maybe I'm understanding what I was too blind to understand/see/realize in the first place.
I'm too young, stupid and deluded to be right all of the time. Too arrogant to fault myself and too proud to reckon it.
If you thought I did anything good for you; anything at all... then it was worth it.
Maybe my refusal to talk to him after things ended wasn't such a good idea. I'm learning, you know... I'm seeing that I don't always know what is best. And that makes me think, that, if I don't know what's best, then how do I know that I'm doing my best, or what's best for me? It kind of makes me re-evaluate my decisions lately. Do I really know what I'm doing?
I'm going through life just guessing and hoping for the best. It's a rather romantic way to live, but it definately spawns large amounts of uncertainty. I've become impassioned about myself and my pursuits. I hope that it's the right direction, though.
If it sounds like I'm looking at things differently, maybe you're right. Maybe I'm seeing myself just a little bit clearer. Maybe I'm understanding what I was too blind to understand/see/realize in the first place.
I'm too young, stupid and deluded to be right all of the time. Too arrogant to fault myself and too proud to reckon it.
If you thought I did anything good for you; anything at all... then it was worth it.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Oh... so that's why!
Remember the Presidential Potty Break photo?
Reuters has an official explanation :
"The photographer and editors on this story were looking for other angles in their coverage of this event, something that went beyond the stock pictures of talking heads that these kind of forums usually offer. This picture certainly does that."
Reuters has an official explanation :
"The photographer and editors on this story were looking for other angles in their coverage of this event, something that went beyond the stock pictures of talking heads that these kind of forums usually offer. This picture certainly does that."
Weekend tom-foolery
This weekend will prove to be exciting... I think.
Word has it that this weekend is Dallas' gay pride parade, which starts startlingly close to my neigborhood. Maybe I'll turn out to take pics.
Also, vintage shopping with Dave, the Son Volt show, and we might run over to Josh's party, that is if the olives are chilled and the rims are salted.
Sunday morning will be an early breakfast, followed by a Rangers game with Dave's parents. Fun, indeed.
Sunday afternoon, I'm off to Tracy's to feed the frogs. I hope he allows me to take pictures of them, because I'm absolutely infatuated with their brightly colored beauty.
Now that I have my entire weekend planned out, I feel like it's already over. That's no fun. I feel that when I schedule my off-time, it's like it's already over; it's like I'm just waiting for it all to be over. It's like I've already planned its completion.
No fun.
Word has it that this weekend is Dallas' gay pride parade, which starts startlingly close to my neigborhood. Maybe I'll turn out to take pics.
Also, vintage shopping with Dave, the Son Volt show, and we might run over to Josh's party, that is if the olives are chilled and the rims are salted.
Sunday morning will be an early breakfast, followed by a Rangers game with Dave's parents. Fun, indeed.
Sunday afternoon, I'm off to Tracy's to feed the frogs. I hope he allows me to take pictures of them, because I'm absolutely infatuated with their brightly colored beauty.
Now that I have my entire weekend planned out, I feel like it's already over. That's no fun. I feel that when I schedule my off-time, it's like it's already over; it's like I'm just waiting for it all to be over. It's like I've already planned its completion.
No fun.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Thank goodness for the gals
Thanks Brenda and Carol for alerting me to the spectacular view from the building. I'll be posting pictures up later showing the moody scene of a partial Dallas skyline.
Bush needs a potty break...
Reuters: U.S. President George W. Bush writes a note to Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice during a Security Council meeting at the 2005 World Summit and 60th General Assembly of the United Nations in New York September 14, 2005. World leaders are exploring ways to revitalize the United Nations at a summit on Wednesday but their blueprint falls short of Secretary-General Kofi Annan's vision of freedom from want, persecution and war. REUTERS/Rick Wilking
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Completely absurd
Just now I'm reading the news and it seems that some of my lean-to evangelicals are stating that Hurricane Katrina was an "act of God" to rid the earth of what would have been a 125,000-strong gay celebration called "Southern Decadence." One right-winger was quoted saying that God intervened to show New Orleans that it cannot continue to espouse the practices of abortion, sodomy and feminism.
However, an atheist researcher stated that referring to the outcome of a natural disaster that impedes a group with which one may disagree is just "moral hand-washing."
But, this is my take on it.
If it was a Southern Baptist Convention that was hit by Katrina rather than the Southern Decadence street festival, the government has just as much an obligation to the right-wingers as it does the opposing left. The feds should have lept into the fire for New Orleans just the same as it would jet into a burning building to save Jerry Falwell.
One evangelical even saw a vision in the swirls of Katrina. He said that he saw a vision of an 8-week-old embryo. He said it was a sign from God that New Orleans had to be punished.
My God is a vengeful one, but He does not kill the wicked and not spare the innocent. May He grace these hearts and minds of those who wish to presuppose His will...
... Lord, please forgive the nutcases ... they know not what they do.
However, an atheist researcher stated that referring to the outcome of a natural disaster that impedes a group with which one may disagree is just "moral hand-washing."
But, this is my take on it.
If it was a Southern Baptist Convention that was hit by Katrina rather than the Southern Decadence street festival, the government has just as much an obligation to the right-wingers as it does the opposing left. The feds should have lept into the fire for New Orleans just the same as it would jet into a burning building to save Jerry Falwell.
One evangelical even saw a vision in the swirls of Katrina. He said that he saw a vision of an 8-week-old embryo. He said it was a sign from God that New Orleans had to be punished.
My God is a vengeful one, but He does not kill the wicked and not spare the innocent. May He grace these hearts and minds of those who wish to presuppose His will...
... Lord, please forgive the nutcases ... they know not what they do.
Friday, September 02, 2005
I am the LAST person...
... to pity those that are bitching about high prices at the pump, but man, this is insanity. I can't believe that these companies who retail gasoline to the public are so blatantly taking advantage of their customers. And you know what? They say nothing. They don't even defend themselves. Why? I'm not sure, but I think it could be because they know that there really is no defense for what they are doing. There is no reason for them to let fuel prices escalate to more than 50 cents per gallon of the previous day's price. Why can't they say to their customers why they are doing it? Where's the accountability?
Personally, I haven't put gas in my car in over a month. That's something I'm proud of. My employer pays for my DART pass, so basically, I get around for free. Sweet deal, eh? But still, I feel bad for all of the schmucks that are shackled to the pump through their cars and trucks (those people that do not drive fuel-efficient vehicles sheerly out of choice do not have my pity, nor my respect). They live and die by the price of a gallon.
This morning I caught wind of lines at fueling stations. I can still remember a day when gas was only 88 cents per gallon, and it really wasn't that long ago. I think it was like, 6 or 7 years ago.
The whole situation is just dispicable. These petroleum companies are raping their retail customers and gouging them to no end, all the while people in the city formerly known as New Orleans are fighting for their lives. The National Guard has descended upon the city to relieve the festering thousands and remedy the looting and lawlessness. It's no longer civilization...
--
I remember back in 1994 when my neigborhood was flooded by 13 feet of water when the floodgates were washed through at Lake Conroe and the San Jacinto River swelled beyond its 100 year floodplain. My father stayed behind with my brother to guard the house when the day after the breach my family boarded a military helicopter on a makeshift helipad across the flooded street. I waded through the lane, crossing a current that felt like a nimble stream, and I thought, "I forgot Fuzzy Wuzzy! What if our house goes under water?" (Fuzzy Wuzzy and I were cribmates. He and I still hang out. He's a stuffed bear with more history than Elizabeth Taylor.)
We climbed aboard the helicopter and my sister began to sob. I can't remember if she was afraid of heights or she was scared that she would fall out, but I remember pitying her, and then later making fun of her. While on the noisy craft, I remember glancing to the dogs in the their carriers, the coiled rope and cable on which we crouched and the frightened faces of recently inundated homeowners.
The night prior to evacuating, my mother had filled both bath tubs with trash bags and water for my father and brother's use. There were a few families using my parent's house as a headquarters before tomorrow's evacuation. We still had power, so everyone was watching the TV as I reclined on the couch. My mother insisted that even though we didn't have running water, having the power was a much better trade. Shortly after we evacuated, the power went kaput.
The most interesting stories were from when my brother rejoined us as he told us of my father shooting the nutria, rats and vermin that were unlucky enough to climb up our driveway.
I think with all these memories it might be a good idea to write a book, or something.
Personally, I haven't put gas in my car in over a month. That's something I'm proud of. My employer pays for my DART pass, so basically, I get around for free. Sweet deal, eh? But still, I feel bad for all of the schmucks that are shackled to the pump through their cars and trucks (those people that do not drive fuel-efficient vehicles sheerly out of choice do not have my pity, nor my respect). They live and die by the price of a gallon.
This morning I caught wind of lines at fueling stations. I can still remember a day when gas was only 88 cents per gallon, and it really wasn't that long ago. I think it was like, 6 or 7 years ago.
The whole situation is just dispicable. These petroleum companies are raping their retail customers and gouging them to no end, all the while people in the city formerly known as New Orleans are fighting for their lives. The National Guard has descended upon the city to relieve the festering thousands and remedy the looting and lawlessness. It's no longer civilization...
--
I remember back in 1994 when my neigborhood was flooded by 13 feet of water when the floodgates were washed through at Lake Conroe and the San Jacinto River swelled beyond its 100 year floodplain. My father stayed behind with my brother to guard the house when the day after the breach my family boarded a military helicopter on a makeshift helipad across the flooded street. I waded through the lane, crossing a current that felt like a nimble stream, and I thought, "I forgot Fuzzy Wuzzy! What if our house goes under water?" (Fuzzy Wuzzy and I were cribmates. He and I still hang out. He's a stuffed bear with more history than Elizabeth Taylor.)
We climbed aboard the helicopter and my sister began to sob. I can't remember if she was afraid of heights or she was scared that she would fall out, but I remember pitying her, and then later making fun of her. While on the noisy craft, I remember glancing to the dogs in the their carriers, the coiled rope and cable on which we crouched and the frightened faces of recently inundated homeowners.
The night prior to evacuating, my mother had filled both bath tubs with trash bags and water for my father and brother's use. There were a few families using my parent's house as a headquarters before tomorrow's evacuation. We still had power, so everyone was watching the TV as I reclined on the couch. My mother insisted that even though we didn't have running water, having the power was a much better trade. Shortly after we evacuated, the power went kaput.
The most interesting stories were from when my brother rejoined us as he told us of my father shooting the nutria, rats and vermin that were unlucky enough to climb up our driveway.
I think with all these memories it might be a good idea to write a book, or something.
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