Month: October 2006

  • Oh, my dear paws and whiskers!  Just when one thinks everything's gotten about as strange as it can get, something comes along to really weird me out.

    New at Target for Christmas this year is a tree supposedly inspired by a European tradition, i.e. and upside-down tree.  Apparently in some areas of Europe they hang the Christmas tree upside down from the ceiling.

    That's pretty strange, right there.  Don't try to talk me out of thinking so.  I'm far too old a dog to learn many new tricks, and certainly not "Wow, a tree hanging upside down from the ceiling!  What a good idea!"

    But peculiar as that is, it's beaten by this...

    Upside down tree
    That's right, it's a fake upside down tree that, instead of being hung from the ceiling, just sorta stands there looking stupid.  And it can be yours for only $379.99!

    I will say, if you've a holiday party coming up about which you're nervous, fearing your guests won't mingle and chat amongst themselves properly, this might not be a half-bad notion.  For sure, it'll definitely cause your guests to huddle together and talk, but I'm making no promises you'd be pleased to know what's being said.  

  • I'm back!

    Lovely house, just lovely.  A few reflections, in no particular order of importance:

    • Amazing how low the upstairs railing was!  It came to mid-thigh on me and I'm 5'5"; if someone's 6' it'd be closer to knee-high.  No wonder the Historical Society forbade any children under the age of 13 years old. 
    • Hadn't realized that it had once housed the Fort Worth Girls' Service League, several of whom showed up.  That was interesting, indeed, to listen to them happily reminisce about old times, pointing out which room had been their bedroom and how many girls had slept in it, that they all ate together in the dining room at a very long table, how the door was locked at 11:00 p.m. so if a girl wasn't home by then she was locked out till morning, and their luggage had been kept in the third floor ballroom, which sadly enough was off-limits for the tour.  No one had ever fallen over the railing onto the stairs below, so far's they could recall.
    • There are mostly two different types of attendees....those who zoom quickly through, which seems a waste of $15-20 (the price of a ticket), and those who are determined to get every dime's worth of value by inspecting each room thoroughly and exhaustively, often asking a plethora of unanswerable (at least by me) questions.
    • People don't listen worth a flip when told "Don't touch anything."  A bunch of first-graders couldn't require more supervision.  A set of twisted shapes made of green glass caused particular problems, as attendees wanted to fiddle with them.
    • Some designers are marvelously talented, while some have strange taste.  Who on earth would take the room which had been the nursery when the Waggoners owned it and, instead of turning it back into a nursery, make it a very modern guest bedroom?  At least the colors worked with the rest of the upstairs, but it didn't fit the house at all.  Another designer included African masks in one of the downstairs rooms, which I thought were quite jarring.  Maybe designers like jarring?
    • Someone in Fort Worth must have a whole lot more money than do I (ha!), based upon the prices of the various elements used by the designers.  A sofa in one room was $16,000.  A painting was $20,000.  The amount of money represented by the furniture, accessories and art in that house is astounding.  The drapes in the Master Retreat (my assigned room) are available as a Showhouse Special for $3,500.  For TWO windows, one of which is quite narrow!    Who'd pay that kind of money for drapes to cover two windows in one small room?

    The volunteer in the room down to the right and I decided what's needed is a Designer Showhouse held in an actual home, such as one built by D.H. Horton or KB Homes, and furnished strictly with goods from Home Depot, SuperTarget, Dillards, etc. with no single item costing more'n $2,000.  IOW, a Showhouse For The Rest Of Us. 

    That same volunteer told a tale that'll make your hair stand on end, depending upon how easily that happens.  She said a few years ago she was with a friend who was taking something or other to an upholsterer's to be redone.  While there the man opened the door to what was a storeroom filled with, well, junk.  It was old, beat-up pieces of furniture he'd snag off the curb as he drove around.

    The kicker?  According to him, several designers regularly came by to scrounge through his junk collection, culling pieces and having him refurbish them, whereupon the designers would sell them for huge sums of money.  Stuff collected off the street, that'd been chucked out by someone!  Can you imagine?  He thought it quite amusing, thinking of people in well-off houses, paying fabulous sums of money for "designer" furniture which had been tossed out to be collected as trash.

  • It's finally fall!  A significant cold front blew through yesterday afternoon and now there's a brisk north wind and it's 47° outside.  Heaven, after the Never-Ending Summer we've endured since, what, April?

    Glad it's not raining, as had been forecast.  In a little while I'll be heading down to Thistle Hill, a cattle baron's mansion built in the late 1800's, to volunteer for the Charity Designers' Showhouse.  Doing it both this morning and tomorrow morning, AAMOF.

    Thistle Hill

    This is what happens when one joins Curves....the volunteer coordinator for the event is also a member, and leans heavily on Curves' members to give a few hours. 

    Since it's not pouring rain, I'm hoping there'll be some activity.  It'd be a loong morning were I to simply stand for hours by myself, with no-one coming through.

    By the way, keep an eye on Alex_Z_Ivy and Ivyleaguebaby down there in my subscriptions, as those are the blogs of my son and his wife, currently living in Japan with the Navy.  On Monday Alex was off, so the three of them (Alex, Beth, and 19 mo. old Hannah) set off via train for the big city, i.e. Tokyo.  Didn't get back home till after 11 p.m. but had a terrific time, and Alex has promised to post pictures from their excursion. 

    Yup.  He promised.  Yes, he did.  Hasn't happened yet (I check daily), but one of these days I daresay the photos will be posted.  No rush, though.  I don't mind waiting.  Mercy, no.  Not I.  The soul of patience, that's me.  Patience...it's one of my distinguishing features. 

    Actually, he was supposed to go somewhere on Mount Fuji with the band for an overnight trip, so has likely not been around much to post.  Soon as he sets foot in his apartment, however, I'm sure he'll get right to posting pix not only of Tokyo, but also Mount Fuji.

    Stay tuned.

  • Alright, that was a weird Xanga hiccup.  I'd been puzzled by not being able to see my most recent posts unless I was in my "edit" mode, but finally thought to check the missing posts' settings, and somehow every post on the first page had mysteriously been reset to "private."  e-headscratch

    For the life of me I can't figure out how that would occur!  The only thing I did today was add the post about the meeting last night and respond to a couple of comments.  e-shrug

  • I've never been much of one to rattle the cage down at City Hall, so to speak, but at last night's Arlington Heights' Neighborhood Association meeting I learned of a proposed zoning change that would permit a 60' building to be constructed where Tick-Tock Daycare used to be.

    The house which held the daycare center....where Charles used to go when a little one....is no longer there, but this building would stand six stories high, for pity's sake.  Six stories!  And according to Richard, a man on the AHNA zoning committee, the variances for which the would-be owner has applied could allow it to be as much as 75-90', or seven to nine stories high, without additional variances necessary.

    Apparently it would be a most attractive edifice, and I've no doubt this is true....the would-be owner is a Waggoner of Waggoner Oil, so I daresay no expense will be spared....but that doesn't change the fact it's still a by-jingo'd six story office building sitting right next to people's homes.  Once one multistory office building is permitted on the west side of Montgomery, it's nearly guaranteed others will follow.

    Darned things tend to breed like bunnies.

    This morning I went to the city's website, where I was able to see the proposed 2007 Comprehensive Plan for Fort Worth, including the part for Arlington Heights:

    AH_map copy

    BTW, I've no idea what the big "1" is pointing to.  It was there already.  The small leaf is roughly where we live, and I put a green arrow pointing to where the proposed office building is.  This won't mean anything to non-FortWorthians, but it will to those who live here.  The map show Harley being widened to become a major(ish) thoroughfare, connecting Montgomery and University, while Crestline will be permanently closed on the east side of Montgomery.  What's significant is the orange where the arrow is; orange signifies "low density residential", such as duplexes, townhomes, small apartment buildings, etc. 

    I beg your pardon, how does a six story office building meet that parameter? 

    It doesn't.  What is frustrating is the owner has paid extra to have the variance "fast tracked", meaning it's coming up for a vote next month, though the application was just formally made last week.  This doesn't give those of us against the variance much time to protest.

    Which is doubtless the whole reason he paid for "fast tracking." 


  • [irritably drumming fingers ]  Whatever else one can say about North Korea's Kim Jong-il, he has the nerve of a bad tooth.  North Korea relies heavily upon UN food aid to feed its citizens?  Yet it has money to squander on nuclear weapons?   e-mggrumpy

    ISTM this is akin to someone spending money on cigarettes and liquor then claiming he hasn't enough money for food.

    Quit popping bucks on cigarettes and liquor and you very likely will, or at least the shortfall will shrink significantly.  Like, you know....duh.   e-rolleyes2

    What does Kimmie think North Korea needs nuclear weapons for, anyway?  A small, poor country full of hungry, skinny people isn't likely to be taken over by anyone.  Who'd want it?  Perhaps everyone else has North Korea on their minds quite a lot, but for myself, I can go from month to month without thinking about it.

    It's one of the most insular, incommunicato nations on the planet, preferring to neither let outsiders in nor insiders out, yet Kimmie is presumably afraid we're all determined to Git 'Em, which is crazy.  He's done such a dandy job of making North Korea virtually invisible to the outside world, why would he believe the world's particularly interested, to the point he needs to arm North Korea with nuclear capability? 

    A couple of years ago I read an article about North Korea which described its miserable condition.  One thing that stuck with me was that on the rare occasion someone manages to get permission to leave, they're knocked for a loop by the realization No One Cares About North Korea.  Kim Jong-il isn't only not revered.....most people can't think of his name off the top of their heads (heck, I had to google it; always want to call him "Jim").  This is not what North Korea's interal press says, you see.  The official line is Kim Jong-il is a god, and the reason the country has to be so insulated is so all the envious people in the rest of the world, who wish they could live under the benevolent rule of such a wonderful god, don't flood in.

    Apparently it's a real kick in the head to those North Koreans who somehow join the rest of the world, to learn how little attention is paid to their country, that far from being universally revered most people have never heard of Kim Jong-il, and how in general North Korea's not considered to be of much importance.  e-afdbsmiley

    But they need nuclear bombs. 

  • Christ Chapel's fall spiritual growth focus is on basic evangelism, and is called Just Walk Across the Room. Yesterday's focus was on nailing down our faith stories, whether we came to faith recently or cannot recall a time when we weren't in Christ. One hundred words or fewer on the difference Christ Jesus makes/has made in our lives.

    Mine's still a work-in-progress. During the service, however, we sang a hymn which does a truly magnificent job of answering the question implicitly posed by Peter: "...always be ready to give a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you."

    Before the throne of God above
    I have a strong and perfect plea.
    A great high Priest whose Name is Love
    Who ever lives and pleads for me.
    My name is graven on His hands,
    My name is written on His heart.
    I know that while in Heaven He stands
    No tongue can bid me thence depart.

    When Satan tempts me to despair
    And tells me of the guilt within,
    Upward I look and see Him there
    Who made an end of all my sin.
    Because the sinless Savior died
    My sinful soul is counted free.
    For God the just is satisfied
    To look on Him and pardon me.

    Behold Him there the risen Lamb,
    My perfect spotless righteousness,
    The great unchangeable I AM,
    King of glory and of grace,
    One in Himself I cannot die.
    My soul is purchased by His blood,
    My life is hid with Christ on high,
    With Christ my Savior and my God!

    Char­i­tie Ban­croft, 1863

  • Guess what time of year it almost is?

    NaNoWriMo, that's what!  e-yippee

    Okay, last year I demonstated the regrettable lack of persistance noted (with some asperity) by Sister Bernadette Marie at Nolan High School when I settled for just looking at the perch brain while it was still in the perch rather than going whole hog and removing it, but what with visiting Alex, Beth and Hannah in Tennessee, and then Thanksgiving, plus having absolutely no idea what I wanted Maude and Claude to actually do, it simply wasn't meant to be.

    This year I still haven't a clue what I'm going to write about, but I've no trips scheduled next month, so consider myself in prime position to Go The Distance and get 50K words written, no matter how idiotic or witless or just plain boring they may be. 

    The one thing I do know about this year's novel is that Claude and Maude will be conspicuous by their absence.  Like ARC yesterday, they had their chance and blew it.  This year's offering will be quite different.  Somehow.  In an as-yet-to-be-determined sort of way.

    I've joined the NaNoWriMo Flickr group, updated my NaNoWrimo profile, and came very close to ordering a NaNoWriMo T-shirt, though I balked at the payment screen.

    Still, between those activities and posting the participant icon over on the left, I've taken my position at the starting gate.

    50,000 words or bust!  e-cheerleader

  • Have you ever lost a recipe of which you were quite fond, and can NOT find it?

    I don't mean the it's-here-in-one-of-these-cookbooks sort of lost....I mean the it'd-been-cut-out-of-a-magazine-and-can't-be-located sort of lost.

    Lost lost. 

    Whenever fall comes around I remember one of my favorite cakes, which was a simple cinnamon cake, baked in a square cake pan.  Called for 1 T. of ground cinnamon, if I remember correctly.  Used to sprinkle sugar on the top when I took it out of the oven, plus squirt some whipped cream on it for good measure.  Yummmmm!  It was cheap and very tasty.  I can still recall the fateful day I went to wherever it was I kept the clipped recipe only to find it wasn't there.  Searched and searched and searched, but it never turned up, and looking on the internet (including Recipezaar and Allrecipes.com) hasn't been successful.  That critter is g-o-n-e.  Very depressing.  Were I a better cook, understanding the science, I could probably recreate it.  It was just a white cake with a lot of cinnamon, when you get right down to it.  Unfortunately, I'm the sort who has to have a recipe to at least start with, though I'm quite willing to fiddle with it somewhat.  But starting without a recipe at all?  Never been one to do that.  Those people who come up with Pillsbury Bake-Off recipes have my respect and admiration, for they're presumably starting from scratch.

    Fortunately there's another clipped-from-the-newspaper recipe I've managed to hang on to, and it's a Chicken Enchilada Bake.  Haven't made it in years now, and really need to.  To make sure I don't let it go the way of that cinnamon cake, I've entered it as a web page and linked to it in the Cookbook section over there to the left.

    If you can't think of anything to fix for dinner, give it a whirl.

  • Found at another blog, Desert Periscope, is this story of a man and his son; if it doesn't make you snuffle, you're a heartless beast, and if the video doesn't cause you to puddle up, you died last Wednesday and forgot to fall down, that's all:

    [From Sports Illustrated writer Rick Reilly]

    I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay
    for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots. But compared
    with Dick Hoyt, I suck. Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son,
    Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him
    26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy
    while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars --
    all in the same day (doing the Ironman Triathlon). Dick's also pulled
    him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and
    once hauled him across the U.S.on a bike. Makes taking your son
    bowling look a little lame, right?

    And what has Rick done for his father? Not much -- except save his life.

    This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when
    Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him
    brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs. "He'll be a vegetable
    the rest of his life," Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy,
    when Rick was nine months old, "Put him in an institution." But the
    Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes followed them
    around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering
    department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help
    the boy communicate. "No way," Dick says he was told. "there's nothing
    going on in his brain." "Tell him a joke," Dick countered. They did.
    Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain. They rigged up
    with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor. By touching a
    switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate.
    First words? "Go Bruins!"

    And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident
    and The school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad,
    I want to do that." Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described
    "porker" who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his
    son five miles? Still, he tried. "then it was me who was handicapped,"
    Dick says. "I was sore for two weeks." That day changed Rick's life.
    "Dad," he typed, "when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled
    anymore!" And
    that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving Rick
    that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape
    that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

    "No way," Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't
    quite a single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor.
    For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran
    anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983
    they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for
    Boston the following year. Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a
    triathlon?" How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a
    bike since
    he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still,
    Dick tried. Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling
    15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzz kill to be a 25-year-old
    stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't
    you think?

    Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? "No way," he
    says. Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling" he gets seeing Rick
    with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together. This year,
    at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon,
    in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two
    hours, 40 minutes in 1992 -- only 35 minutes off the world record,
    which, in case you don't keep track of these things, happens to be held
    by
    a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

    "No question about it," Rick types. "My dad is the Father of
    the Century." And Dick got something else out of all this too . Two
    years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that
    one of his arteries was 95% clogged. "If you hadn't been in such great
    shape," one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago."
    So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's lives.

    Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works
    in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland,
    Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the
    country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including
    this Father's Day. That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the
    thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy. "The
    thing I'd most like," Rick types, "is that just once my dad sit in the
    chair and I push him."

    Here's the video: