Snyder Group to Continue Fight Over Santa Fe Depot

Snyder Group to Continue Fight Over Santa Fe Depot

A Country Christmas

The Tree

Who am I fooling? It's country everything out here! Where else would I have the opportunity to holler "There's a coyote in the lane!" with every expectation of someone in the house running out the door with a shot-gun? Honey, you don't get more country than that.

This year I feel I have a full hiatus from the holiday. I don't have grandchildren, yet, my kids are grown, and I only get presents for a few people, so I'm not cuckoo for Christmas. No, it's not a bah, humbug feeling, it's more like some sort of reality setting in. All the music, shows and icons of the season have been so over-played, so over-used, that experiencing any of those things is like having sand rubbed into a sunburn.

So, this year I shall take heart and enjoy my simple Christmas setting, because I have a sneaking suspicion that a baby will change my perception of the season in a drastic manner.

The Shystier, the Better

They Want To Help

The top shystery event that has happened to us lately is the resurgence of our Beall's account. Suddenly, out of the blue, we received a credit card from them. I asked the Mister to call them and see why they had sent it, since the account was paid off five years ago and we haven't had a card since.

Well, the boy on the phone said it was just an automatically issued replacement card and he showed our last payment as being in December of 2010. It was a bunch of bull and basically made me look like a liar, but I told Mister just to put it in his wallet and keep it away from me. It's something you would only want to use in a mighty hard pinch.

Then, about a week later, we get this letter from the company whose letterhead is featured above. They will be "protecting" us, without our asking, for a mere $1.99 per $100 of the card balance. Well, sure, at 26% interest on the card, why not just throw in another 2%? We are big spenders (card balance of 0). I think it all shows just how far credit card companies are willing to go to get your money. I like shopping at Beall's, but the thing with the card is pretty shady.

I think it's surprising that our very reputable bank is pushing hard for us to get a credit card. That's just a fool's adventure. Why would I pay a percentage more on bills and items when I can just pay them and be done, saving me loads of money? But my bank keeps sending all kinds of emails, wanting me to apply. It seems irresponsible in "this time of economic hardship", as the media puts it. Hey, things are going to hell in a hand-basket, so get yer credit card here! It's just senseless.*

Another rip-off we've encountered is on craigslist. Twice we've answered ads for vehicles, then we get an email explaining a complicated scenario about someone who's in the military and the vehicle is in Tucson or some such. It's very disappointing when you're looking for an affordable item and you have to deal with grifters.

The other day I kept getting a call that I thought was from a hotel I stayed in recently. I called them back and let them have it for how much I had to pay for their crappy hotel room and that I didn't owe them a red cent. The person I was talking to finally hung up when I used a word he didn't approve of. Then I Googled the number and found that the name of the agency is similar to the hotel, but was actually my student loan finance company. That one was on me, and I had a pretty good laugh about it.

* I don't really think things are going to Hades in a hand-basket, I'm just using status quo to make a point.

I Won't Feel Your Pain

Without Permission

The last book I gave my mother was The Help. She never got to read it.

Now, that's a pretty good line to start off an article with, isn't it? Perhaps you're wondering why my mother never got to read the book, and isn't that a very popular novel that was recently made into a movie? Now, if I said "My mother never got to read this book and you had BETTER be sad about it," you would probably be inclined to be just the opposite, maybe even dismissive. You've got to lead the reader into your story, not choke and beat them about the the neck and torso with it.


The last book I gave my mother was The Help by Kathryn Stockett, and she never got to read it because she died six weeks later. During the last of her life she was too weak to hold a book. Anyway, this is not about that. I'm actually trying to recommend three books to you: The Help, as aforementioned; Not Me by Michael Lavigne; and another book that I can't recall the title or author, but is about a woman who lives as a hermit in a house full German Jewish artifacts that her father dealt from a stolen cache. I've Googled and Googled, but I can't find it. Just try putting Jewish into any search engine and see if you're able to sort it out. I guess I should tap into my natural micro-managing talents and make a list of all the books I read for future reference. 


I normally don't like any literature dealing with civil rights or Jewish persecution because I've had it shoved down my throat my whole life, especially during my school years. My age group was taught to shoulder the guilt of eras that we couldn't comprehend. The tales were stereotypical, without detail, oversold and desensitizing.


With these books, it's as though the authors knew how to turn the crystal to show a different facet. In The Help I found characters who were very familiar to me, making me think "I know people exactly like that, mm-hmm." This story is about much more than civil rights. Just read it, I'm too full of explanation to explain it. I can't recommend the movie because I haven't seen it and probably won't see it. I'm purist about books that I like. I don't want any interference from outside sources into my own thoughts. I also think I wouldn't enjoy the movie because I would be saying "They didn't do it that way in the book" throughout the entire show.


Not Me was published in 2005, and is the only book about the Nazi occupation that has ever interested me. It was quite an eye-opener. The premise is gripping, but then the story speaks of historical data that I was unaware of, such as a civil war that was raging in Palestine and that people saved from concentration camps went on to fight in such. I may have the facts skewed, but it's a much different story from what I was taught, that victims were saved from camps and everything was hunky dory after that.


The third book, about an elderly woman who lives in a stately mansion filled with dinnerware and art stolen from Jewish families and bought by her long-dead art dealer father. Again, another perspective that I was unaware of, the scavenging of the holocaust victims homes, not always after their departure. I don't particularly like the ending, but that has something to do with my personal experience of the last actions in this book.


If you have been a jaded reader, these books will open an acceptable side-door for you to pass through. If you're not jaded, they're just plain good books.

Blind as a Chicken

The Rooster

This morning, early, around 5:30 a.m., I was standing on the porch and I noticed one of the roosters out in the yard under a tree. All I could see was his profile, a perfect cutout of his shape. I went out to see if he was alive or dead and realized that he couldn't see in the dark. I asked him what he was doing and he started clucking at me like one of the hens and acting helpless. I shooed him back to the shop so he wouldn't be out in the open. He seemed to be able to make out that he wasn't running into objects in the dim illumination of the security light, but once he got into the deep shadow behind the pick-up, he needed a cane. You're probably laughing at me because you already knew that chickens can't see at night, an explanation for roosting in trees and going to sleep at dusk, but I'm excited to know that I'm not too old to learn a simple lesson. Amazing!

'Til Death Does Us Part

View from Poet's Seat

The thing that really bothers me when I think of my own death is the usage of "she" by people describing me. I'm not worried about them saying bad things, it's just the thought of them talking about me like I'm the cat. They could be saying "She was a talented and beautiful woman" (not too shabby, aye?), but that past tense thing really bugs me. I just can't suppress the revulsion it makes me feel to know that's how it will be, because I do it regarding those that I have known to pass.

These death thoughts led me to recalling the legendary suicide of Sylvia Plath, a tale that slightly alters with each telling. Sometimes she sealed the door with tape, sometimes with wet cloths; sometimes she meant to do die, sometimes she didn't. Anyway, Plath's estranged husband spoke of her death as necessarily having to be over-dramatized by fans to fulfill some sort of Sylvia-delusion. He didn't say it like that, he was much more eloquent, also being a poet. When the wash was finally finished, the woman he had left Sylvia for also killed herself as well as their four-year-old child, and later, his and Sylvia's son committed suicide.

It seems that suicide used to be a rampantly over-romanticized way to die, or maybe it was just very casually used. I have a set of really horrible (you gotta read them) books, Hollywood Babylon & Hollywood Babylon 2, by Kenneth Anger, that portrays the suicidal deaths of many well known stars. The books are full of all kinds of Hollywood scandals, and the first one starts at the very beginning with silent films. There are many photos, some grisly, and both books are spell-binding. This set is one of my guilty pleasures. You'll kind of feel dirty when you're through perusing them.

One of the stories and photos that stick with me from the books is of actress Carole Landis, who was having an affair with actor Rex Harrison (Dr. Dolittle!) at the time of her death, ruled as suicide. In the photo she looks like she's kneeling down with an ear placed to the floor, wearing a pretty skirt and shoes that I wouldn't mind having. She doesn't look dead at all.

Now see how I'm talking about her? I don't want this to happen to me! So, when I die, please immediately forget me and never speak of me again, okay? Thanks! Whew! No photos, either, if you can help it.

You Are So Yesterday

2005

Fashion trends change every year and some people won't be seen in last year's togs for fear of dying from mortal embarrassment. I am the same way about who I am. I see things I've written or think of things I've said and I cringe at my absolute naivete that may not be so much as a week old.

Also, I get on my own nerves. I know a lot of people tell the same damn stories over and over again, but I want to kick myself in the shin when I find myself doing it. I won't let other people finish sentences. I will agree with whatever opinion is being given by whomever I am accompanying. My hair always looks like crap. I am judgmental, skeptical and cynical, but then I'll turn around and be entirely gullible. I think I am absolutely hilarious.

I'm not fishing for compliments or negations, these are the things I know about myself.

I am always striving to be a better, savvier me. Who isn't? I don't want to get mired down in the old style me and get too behind the times. If only I could use the new, improved inside of me with the old 18-year-old version of the outside of me. Dang, I'd have the world by the tail!

Jonathon Devitt dies at age 23

According to facebook sources, Jonathon Devitt, 23, of Northfield, Massachusetts died today after being removed from life support. Friends report that he had been diagnosed with bacterial meningitis. Devitt was originally from Snyder.

Update 11/14/2011: It is also reported from Devitt's facebook page by family and friends that he was an organ donor and contributed to the lives of three people. This story just breaks my heart.

Natalie Clark dies at 85

Natalie Clark of Snyder died in a Lubbock hospital on November 9. She was the mother of former Hobbs resident Jeanette Templeton. Clark died after one of two implanted heart stints failed.

Some Old Hippies

Dancing to the Bellamy's

I'm using old as a relative term, and just trying to be quippy, because we went and saw the Bellamy Brothers play on the bricks in Roscoe last night. Excellent performance, makes me wonder why we listen to new songs when so many good ones have already been written and sung. There was a big crowd, but it was loose and navigable, like the Willie picnics in the early '80's. I saw so many familiar faces. I can't imagine living somewhere where I haven't grown up. Even if you don't know someone directly, you know who they look like.

We ended up getting 3 4/10 of rain last weekend. I was running mail on Saturday in Mitchell County, and I should have taken a canoe instead of my truck, although I have a certain appreciation of the 4-wheel drive. It got me out of some tight spots (C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!). I didn't test for buoyancy, though. I saw some other folks who did. Trucks don't float.

 The weather is beautiful here, one of the reasons fall is my favorite season. I like autumn lighting. It makes it seem like mid-morning for a longer portion of the day, and 10 a.m. is the best time for me. I'm very hopeful and can think well around then. After that, no promises. In the afternoon, I can hardly remember my name.

Since I'm giving up politics and religion, I don't have much more to say. There's nothing to gripe about, now. I think I'll just hum an annoying tune and be happy.

If He Catches You, You're Through

Some of my chickens have found it to be true, the song the roadrunner sings. There has been a rash of raids this week with a resulting loss of two hens and a rooster. I had someone ask me why I didn't just keep the chickens put up, but that would be like keeping your dog in a box, or making the cats sit in a cage all the time. Chickens like to run around and peck and scratch at things. It's a joy to watch them.

Yesterday I let them out for a little while and I thought I was keeping a close eye on them. I kept going outside every fifteen or thirty minutes, had Sue the dog on duty watching them, and had the front door cracked so I could hear any commotion.

By the way, this week was the first time for my baby chicken to foray into the world. I've been anticipating her debut beyond the chicken pen because she's such a vocal little hen and has a lot of different voices to express her little chicken emotions. No, not like Linda Blair in  The Exorcist type voices, just a bunch of chirpy sounds that make me happy to listen to.

Anyway, so I thought I was paying attention. Then a rooster in the front yard sounds an alarm (he didn't pull the fire bell, he just crowed) and I shoot out the door. He's out there by himself and I run around the house and see that everyone is alarmed, even the cats, who have been kittens of interest in the recent deaths. I start counting chickens while I'm running around and find that baby chicken and mama chicken are missing. I'm calling (chicka chicka chicka) and starting to get desperate when I look over and see baby chicken hiding under some pampas grass. I was so relieved, because I was fixing to give up chickens if she was gone. Poor mama chicken met her end, though, probably defending baby. I've seen her go up against the roosters over her chick.

The chickens are put up today. I finally got a print of whatever is nabbing the fowl. The cats can stand down, as they have been cleared by this recent evidence. Once I started looking around, it appears that a whole herd of wild critters crosses through our yard. The print in the photo is about 3 inches long. The best I can guess is coyote. There are smaller prints that might be a fox. Mr. Me says that if it's a fox, we'll never be able to catch it. Just too wily.

I think the way to combat this is to get more chickens. They can be very aggressive in large groups, chasing down wild animals and pecking their eyes out. Not really. It's just if there are more, then I won't miss one or two so badly when they're gone.

Confused about Confucius

I was reading the local paper today when I saw a quote by Confucius. I thought, "Oh my gosh, don't they know Confucius is bad!" and thought about how we, or, rather, I, say things off the top of my head, showing my extreme ignorance of all things beyond the borders of West Texas. Then I asked myself why I thought Confucius was bad, and realized I had not investigated the facts to justify my own reasoning.

I recently read The Kitchen God's Wife by Amy Tan, where the character Winnie blasted the Chinese Philosopher because of the oppression of women during the time in China in which she was living, which apparently was part of Confucian belief. I guess I could get all down on Confucius for that, but it would be a pot calling the kettle black situation, or some sort of hypocritical thought, because, historically, women have been shunned in our own country and in our own religions. Shoot, the black man got the vote before gals did, and you know how vigorously racist people were back in the day. Just sayin'.

Also, I think it's ironic that Christians would quote a philosopher who was considered agnostic.

After a little perusing, it seems that the original Confucian ideologies were twisted to fit whatever religious or political situations that were occurring in China. I'm highly suspicious that this is a global phenomenon.

Migrating

Our annual monarch migration has been going on in dribs and drabs for the past several weeks. Usually there are jillions of butterflies everywhere and you have to just grit your teeth and barrel through them when you're driving (like we're who does the real suffering). This year they have been in lesser numbers, but they're huge, as large or larger than the palm of your hand from wrist to fingertip. I was driving along the other day and it looked like someone had pinned them here and there in sky as if they were ornaments. The beauty in the photo was lighted on a Russian sage plant in my back yard.

Black Gold, Texas Tea and a Little Bit of Natural Gas

University A-1 Well

We had to go to the title office in Roby today for a little business and found a lot of action going on there and at the courthouse. Landmen all over the place, and you know what that means. Boom! Very exciting, go on up there and see if your neighbors have agreed to a lease or not, get your mineral rights in order and play your cards right. Get them suckers bidding against each other! I'm hearing leases are going for as much as $2400 an acre in east Texas. I don't know if it's going to get anywhere near that here, but it's going to get interesting, that's for sure.

Park Lane

My library friend Eloisa is selling Park Lane Jewelry. Check it out online then head on over to the County City Library in Sweetwater and give her your order. She also has hard-copy catalogs for you to look at. Cute stuff!

Just a Couple More...

Regarding the vaccine that Perry wanted all girls to get: In my memory, what was so offensive about it was that the illness the inoculation was for was said to have been contracted only by sexually active individuals, so in essence, it seemed like he was saying all girls are excessively promiscuous and needed to be vaccinated.

Regarding the accusation that scientists are to blame for global-warming paranoia: The first person that I noted saying the atmosphere has it's own rhythm was a top scientist at a facility Tom Hargrove was affiliated with. Tom sent me the article the man wrote. The man is a noted scientist, if only I could remember his name or still had Tom's note to me. I believe he was a scientist at the University of Alabama. Anyway, he said that global warming was bunco. In so many words.

I Won't Miss You

Teel House

It was very surprising last Thursday to find that between the time I went to work that morning and drove back home that evening the old Teel house at the corner of FM 419 & FM 611 had been demolished.

I even hit the brakes as I went around the corner, and then came to a full stop in the road. I thought "Wow", then "I like it". That old eyesore has been there my entire life, and it has been a very long time since any Teels lived there. It was a relief to see it scraped up into a pile.

The razing was done for the placement of a high voltage line that Lone Star Transmission LLC is installing. This part of the project reaches across Scurry, Fisher, Jones and Shackelford counties and covers 1,467 acres. The overall line will run about 300-miles, through many counties.

I would give a website for information, but Googling will deliver an abundance of results. I found it somewhat interesting to see many names that I recognize associated with the process of the initial development of this project.

Lone Star and Oncor were used as key search words.

She Was Shakin'

Big Country Home Page news site is reporting that we have had seven earthquakes locally in the past two days, six of them close to Snyder, which makes them close to Hobbs. We have not felt anything, but Howard Gordon said he felt the one Sunday morning around 7:30 a.m. He said it was about a 2-second rumble.

According to Big Country news, the last one was recorded this morning around 4:26 a.m. near Forsan, southeast of Big Spring. The United States Geological Survey site has a map showing responses to the tremors. There are some Advanced National Seismic System maps on the USGS site that show where earthquakes have been occurring. Click on any of the highlighted words for more information.

Abject Criticizing

Looking at Twitter, to the right, you will see that I commented on a black cloud hanging overhead.

Unfortunately, it is not rain. I get in these damned moods where I am so hyper-critical that even I can't stand myself. I gripe at the tv, the cat, chickens and I have deep ruminations.

If I were a cast iron pot, my lid would be rattling from a slow boil.

So, I'm going to make one heavily edited comment just to get it out of me, then we can get to the lighter side of life.

The insurance company that provides coverage to state employees is going up thirty dollars per month on everyone who uses tobacco. I think that is taking advantage of a captive audience.

Ok, there ya go.

We briefly visited the West Texas Fair & Rodeo yesterday. The photo is of the most clever entry. It's not worded that way on the ribbon, but that's what it is. When I saw it, I thought, "Of course, why haven't I thought of it!", which makes it even more ingenious, because it's been right there in front of me all the time. Now there will be a wave of bathtub settees across the area. It's about time, the bathtub planters are so last season.

I noticed that Tom Wideman won first prize in antiques kitchenware with a metal muffin pan. I'm supposing this is the former mayor of Sweetwater, Rattlesnake Round-Up aficionado and past owner of West Texas Manufacturing. Way to go, Tommy!

There were all kinds of entries, birth certificates included. I quit looking when I saw an entry of an Avon bottle that was shaped like a Sherlock Holmes bulldog pipe. One that I know every single one of you has seen, and would quickly toss in the trash if you were cleaning out a closet. I'm pretty sure we had one sitting on the back of the toilet for years. Or something of Avon 70's vintage. I mean, who didn't?

There were some pretty cowgirl contestants giving speeches, and I wish I had room for those photos on here, too. They were beautiful girls wearing fancy clothes, but not in an unsavory fashion. How refreshing to see a nice Texas girl.

We didn't indulge in the carnival foods, 'cause you know I save that for the previously mentioned Rattlesnake Round-Up in March. Twice a year would just be too much.

One more thing to say. The fair is here, so where's the rain?

And Just Like That, It's Over

The oppressive, stultifying, brain-burning summer has at last released it's zombie-inducing grasp on us. We've gone straight from triple-digit degrees to a whole week forecast at 80/50 highs-lows. I held up my arms and bathed in the glorious, cool breeze (wind) as I murmured haikus, ballads and verses celebrating this wonderful gift of nature, but then I shut up when Mr. Schmidt, who was changing a flat tire at the time, looked up and said "Huh?", like "What craziness are you up to now, Woman?"

I said, "Oh, nothing."

Luv ya, Texas.

Aunt Vera

The other day I was at someone's house and saw a box with what looked like old paper towel rolls and some other odds and ends in it, and I thought back to the play box Aunt Vera Weems used to keep at her house.

She had a sizable cardboard box with playthings in it that she kept in the back room off the kitchen, maybe a pantry, and that is where I would head first thing when we went to visit her. The box had old pot pie tins, egg cartons, plastic spoons, discarded kitchen utensils and the like in it. Now don't get me wrong, I liked going over to kids houses that had the fancy, decked out plastic kitchen sets, but there was something so desirable about Vera's set-up, something that still gives me a little thrill when I see objects that remind me of those times.

It was so desirable, in fact, that it inspired fighting betwixt children if there was more than one visiting at the same time. And often there was.

One time when I was staying there, when I was about four or five, another cousin was also there, a much more sophisticated girl of 11 or 12. We sat on the edge of a huge cistern with the lid propped up while she told me the stories of Bloody Fingers and The Girl with the Black Choker. The echoey sound added legions in sound effect. That night as we were all getting ready for bed, Aunt Vera couldn't figure out why I was crying scared, and she also didn't know the cousin had told me Bloody Fingers was watching us through the twitched up slat of the venetian blinds.

I often ponder over childhood and how memories from that time are so set in stone, how the people were like characters, well-defined and impervious. I can still hear Vera's voice and see her with a turban wrapped around her head talking to my grandma about an upcoming funeral, purse hanging from the crook of her elbow.

I don't know why I was at Vera's so much, I'm just glad that I got to be there, with Guy sitting in his chair and always amicable, me playing with a round cork-board globe that had pens and pencils stuck in it, an orchard at the front of the house, where we collected apricots, and bursting through the swinging doors between the tv room and the kitchen.

Did I ever mention that I had a charmed childhood?

NFL Blacks Out Saints - Texans Game

Tonight, those of us who have just changed to DirecTV are getting a taste of sour grapes. The New Orleans Saints and Houston Texans game is blocked from DTV NFL channel 212, and we are finding out that Abilene local station KTES, where the game is airing, is not included in the DTV local channel package.

If you have Dish, you can watch the game on channel 40, since it has also been blocked on the Dish NFL channel. We're hoping to get the Vikings and Seahawks game since it's not local. We better. Or we're gonna... we're gonna... gripe a whole lot!

I Gotta Lotta Anger Inside'a Me

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Aargh! Creationism? Submission? Sex? Who gives a brickety-brack, frickety-frack! Talk about our PAYCHECKS. Talk about GROCERY STORE PRICES. Talk about UTILITY costs. Then, politicians, you will have hit home with all the people in the nation. For Judas sake, can you not even do a simple equation to figure out the common link? Shoot.

About the President

I don't take the Presidency seriously. I have had a lifetime of social instruction that has left me with a flippant attitude towards the POTUS. Let me explain how I have been directed to view our Commander-in-Chief.

I have NEVER, in my lifetime, heard ANYONE refer to any of the Presidents, who have graced the White House since 1965, in a respectful manner. I've seen them derided and lampooned, treated as a constant source of entertainment. I haven't heard a President praised. Not while one was alive. My jaw was on the floor when I heard the effusive eulogies given upon Ronald Reagan's death. During his Presidency, he was ridiculed mercilessly. He was portrayed as an ultra-moron, no bigger fool had ever existed, unless you count all the other Presidents. It's one thing to make fun to keep pedestaled people in their place, it's another to attack their personality and reasoning to the point of breaking them down in the sight of all others.

To those of you out there who can't figure out why the latest generations have no respect for the prestigious offices held by ANY politicians - You have taught your children well!

Underage Thinking

I was thinking about context and perspective and thinking that we are all searching for both in our life. Then I decided we weren't really searching for them, it's more like we're surprised when we discover them, one or both.

What set me off on this thought was that I was hoeing and had just kicked up a renegade goat's head sticker plant.

When I was little, around three or so, we used to go to the butcher and get the gut wagon, which is exactly what you would think it is. My dad and uncle used to heat the remains in a huge trough and feed them to the pigs. In this offal there was intestines, blood and heads. Some were goat heads. One of my fondest childhood memories is when my little step-sister and I would sit on the fender of the wagon and dare each other to look in, hands clenched, head against the side of the trailer, ducked down, saying "No, you do it!", "I'm not gonna do it, you do it!". Ah, the tender years of youth.

One day, my grandmother made the comment that the field was so full of trash the tractor plow had goat heads dragging from it.

I can't tell you how many years it took me to realize what kind of goat heads she was talking about, but, boy, did the light shine bright over my head then.

Persistence

When I was young, I was astounded to find out most of my favorite songs were simply remastered songs from prior years. Led Zeppelin's Gallows Pole? Sung by Leadbelly decades earlier, and a folk song from long before that. As time goes along, I've found that most things are this way, and also that fads and inventions from centuries before seem more modern than now. You would think I would have grown used to the idea of old is new, new is old, but I guess some things are like a toy you never get tired of, a puzzle with a new twist.

I was reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet the other day, and I found that the back story for Dr. John Watson was that he had been wounded in what he called the Second Afghan War previous to making the acquaintance of Holmes. That was around 1878. Again, astonished to find that the "news" is old. What can be said about Afghanistan now that hasn't been discussed before in the last century and a half?

I couldn't find the chicken and kitten photos I wanted to post here, so I put up an old photo of a spider wearing all it's babies, or else it has a mighty infestation of some kind.

I noticed today that Hastings in Sweetwater will be closing, and I heard someone in another store say that the doors will close Aug. 20. Jack in the Box out by the interstate recently closed, also. Some will blame it on the economy. You never hear a store take the blame for closing. "Oh, we were sloppy with the book-keeping",  "We had really lousy customer service", and "We didn't do all we could do in the PR dept." are all real possibilities. The story of my failed make-believe store would be "I had no idea what I was doing!".

Lemony Lemonade

All during the week I think of at least a half-dozen good topics to talk about, and many more that would be inappropriate, but come time to put fingers to keys, it's like my mind is stuck between channels. Where are all those specific points I made while talking to myself (in my head, I hope), where are all those prolific, ecclesiastical realizations I came to that I couldn't wait to share with you all? Gone. Like the wind.  Like Tuesday, as Skynyrd says. I can barely put two sentences together. Ok, it's not that bad. You might say "Write those ideas down so you can remember". I've got a whole drawer of reminders. There's nothing quite as stale as an idea gone cold.

I keep trying to think of positive things about this remarkable heat (lemonade from lemons), because if I can't think of an upside, I'm gonna brain myself. Here's my little list:

1. You can hang clothes on the line and they're dry in about five minutes. By the way, let me brag here about the new clothes line that Mr. Me put up. It's snazzy! I don't think I've ever had such tight wires.
2. You can see which plants are the hardiest and use those to landscape your yard. Go somewhere that there are plants you would actually want, like Rough Creek. Or the Caribbean.
3. You appreciate 6:30 a.m. a lot more, since it's the only time that is bearable to be outside.

That's it, I'm tapped. It's pretty miserable.

The photo is one of the multiple little shower clouds that we've watched float around us. On July 3, we saw a tornado, but it only lasted about 40 seconds. No, really, and I have witnesses. Mr. is the one who said, "Yes, I see it, it's a tornado," after I said "I must be seeing things". Also, I heard through the grapevine that Bobby Wright saw it, too. We thought it was over by the gin, but it must have been closer to Sardis.

It looks like someone has taken interest in the old Beavers store up at Camp Springs. There was a pick-up with old appliances from inside the house on it and I saw a guy on a little backhoe working up there. The realtor's sign that's been there for a few years is gone. I wish it would be a store, again, but I think only someone who didn't want to make money would open one up. It sure would be convenient for us locals, though.

We spent the Fourth in Roscoe on the second. I don't know what it is about the town that makes it so good for festivals. It was like being at a gigantic family reunion. It probably has a lot to do with organizational skills, as well as the good people of the town.

I got my electric bill this week and I did NOT have a heart attack. It was just about a fifth of what I expected it to be. Thank goodness for little mercies. I hope all of you will find some of your own.

Bird's the Word

I gotta tell ya, I enjoy my Twitter account more than anything else online, including Facebook. The few people I follow have sharp wit and can capture thoughts with just a few words. I keep thinking I need to have hundreds that I follow, like everyone else, but I feel like my group is the best and just reading what they have to say keeps me busy enough.

My top two favorites are Elizabeth Baker, author of  Half-Baked Twice as Good, and Linda Sharps, who writes for The Stir. Both of these women are hard-core, living life as normal women, both as wives, one also as a mom. I like the real way they talk, their cynicism and their big, but not too mushy, hearts.

Alex Hyde seems to be from somewhere near Austin and an educator. He's very clever and not arrogant.

Shriek House provides humorous and cynical outtakes on family life. For some reason I'm thinking she also writes for The Stir.

Chris Sherman is an excellent Associated Press writer. He is the Rio Grande Valley correspondent here in Texas. He has written many articles about the big damn mess that's going on at the border. I admire his unbiased and factual writing style. He has a great voice on paper. He's currently on leave for a fellowship, but I hope to see more articles by him this August.

Linda follows a few people, like I do, probably for informational purposes only, but I like knowing she's out there watching and I try to keep her updated about what's going on in the community.

I urge you to get your own Twitter account! Then you can inform the world of such things as "I love this song", and "Just dropped ice cream on my shoes". It's fun.

SISD Feels Budget Cuts, Closes Hobbs School

The Hobbs School has closed doors behind another school administration. According to a Sweetwater Reporter article written last December, the Sweetwater Independent School District will consolidate their alternative education program with the Colorado (City) ISD to save the school district money. The savings at that time were estimated to be $75,000 for the alternative education program (AEP) and $35,000 for the discipline alternative education program (DAEP). The amount was increased to $130,000, collectively, according to a February SR article. Students will be transported to the Wallace School in C-City.

The Great Divide

Well, it's very dismaying to watch the chasm widen between politicians and constituents. Politicians are following some blind path, being led by the call of an old, decrepit, mythical bird, and constituents are left at the camp alone, wondering why tortillas are three times the price they were two years ago.

And seriously, when the candidate's platform is president bashing, they are of less than no use to me. Also, dispense with the general promises and projections. Who needs another candy machine in the cafeteria, Charlie Brown?

Who are these politicians pandering to? Not me, that's for sure.

I want someone who is smart and savvy. Not someone who declares to have a solution to all the problems, just someone who makes sense.

Honestly, I think the the people I see on tv who are running for public office don't understand the regular person's day to day life. You would think we're all obsessed with abortion, health care and smoking policies if the news was any indicator. I'm frenetic about paying my bills, although the people I owe money to might think otherwise. Vehicle maintenance is also a daily factor.

That's another issue. Politicians make blanket promises when the needs of the many are diverse. Country, city, north, south, shore, land, old, young, the list of variations is never ending. But the incumbents and nominees hammer away at dead horses.

I've noticed in my life that if someone keeps harping on a subject, you eventually form an opinion, even if it's an issue you could care less about. So then here we are, arguing about things that we don't give a damn about in general, forgetting what's really important to us.

Dear Politician, I don't want you to solve my problems. I don't want new laws. Just be a good, dependable manager of public policy.

Dowell School Memories

It's one fine country morning here. Sue the dog and I just made a trip to the Hobbs Cemetery to fulfill some requests for Find A Grave. Early morning is the best time of the day, especially if you're not having to hurry off to work.

The cemetery always reminds me of why I love living out here. When I was a kid, I thought we owned the world. Our family gravestone is right at the front, which made the place ours in my mind. We had a great big farm that I had no idea had boundaries, and there was always talk of Big Daddy, as my late grandfather Les Templeton was referred to when I was a child. He was an icon in my life, this man I never met, and everything that Hobbs stood for to me. Just because he bought a farm back in 1941, I have been allowed to live in a community that feels like an extension of my yard. I mean, I just went to the graveyard in my pajamas and thought nothing of it, except that it was a luxury. It seems like a perfect opportunity to say: "You might be a redneck if you've ever...".

On to today's photo. I read an article this week in Texas Co-op Magazine entitled Never Fade Away by Harry Noble. It's about Noble's autograph book from his school days in Rosevine, TX circa 1939. The picture I've posted is of a similar autograph book belonging to my aunt Imogene. When we came across it we wondered what it was about, whether it marked an occasion or if it was a fad of the day.

Documentation in the book indicates the most of the autographs were collected at Dowell High School from December 1936 to April 1937. One or two were gathered in Hamlin. Such clever and witty people! One says "When you grow old and wear patched pants (could she have meant britches? Or maybe that was the joke, to say pants instead of britches), think of me between the stitches (Juanita Cooper)", and another quotes "When you are old and have snuff on your chin, think of me and lick it in (Ruth)". One wishes Imogene a happy married life, so I went back and found that she was married in April of 1937.

Since my aunt went to the trouble to list her classmates and teachers, I am going to also list them here.

Classmates: Pauline Levens, Vesta Merlyle Barker, Norma Aleen Coan, Jesalea Aken, Juanita Cooper, Aileen Hodo, Birtie Belle McCright, La Merle McCright, Elizabeth Winzer, Mae Dene Eaton, Estellene Hodo, Melvin Clements, Harold Aken, James Winzer, Welton Jameson, Buddy Levens, Merril Eaton, Odell Finch, Leroy Eaton, Bessie Phillips, Preston McCleskey, Paul Cooper, Ozelle McKay, Ruth Watley, Nadine Hodo, also the Maxines, Maxine Calwell, Maxine Compton (that is how they are referred to in the book, as the Maxines).

Teachers: Mr. Charles, Miss Hancock, Mr. Martin, Mrs. Foreman, Mrs. Collinsworth, Mrs. Murff and Miss House.

Dowell, according to the Handbook of Texas Online, was located four miles northwest of Rotan. The school was combined with Rotan in 1946-47.

A Time to Remember

This photo was supposed to be of an impressive rain of mortarboards hanging mid-air above the heads of the Roby Seniors, but my camera gulped after I pushed the button, and I only captured the aftermath.

As the kids got ready to toss their hats into the air, the group of people I was with started reminiscing about their own graduations, which made me think of mine. I then rode a long train of memory, wandering paths not taken, thinking about missed opportunities and bittersweet moments. I don't like to admit regret, though, because every single step I've taken has led me to the people who are in my life, and I most definitely don't want to tamper with the recipe that brought them to me. I just have to revisit those thoughts every once in a while and make sure it's all as I remember and desire.

The heat and the wind are wearing us all down out here in this semi-arid hell hole. It will make the rain all the more sweeter, but good grief, how bad of a mood can one woman get into? I guess we're going to see.

I had free XM radio this week. I was pretty excited at first, until I realized that the same programs are repeated every two hours and day to day. There's a lot of potential, but it hasn't been realized. Also, if I'm going to pay for radio, I don't want to listen to commercials. I switch stations every time one comes on. They last so long, like when you're trying to watch a movie on TBS. You forget what program you were enjoying before the advertising ensued.

I would like to comment on the latest Dolce & Gabbana ad featuring Matthew McConaughey. They took a beautiful, beautiful man and airbrushed out his best features. It's creepy and made me feel weird, like looking at an animal that's otherwise perfect except that it has three ears or an extra limb. They should have left him rough and scruffy, even if he was wearing a suit. It's just a travesty.

I would also like to comment on Bob Dylan at this time. I don't like his voice at all. I think he was just what the listeners yearned for at the time, though, and that he cleansed the palette. Don't buy his book Tarantula. I'm sure he was making some sort of statement, but it would be a waste of your money. It looks like a monkey or chicken was let loose on a typewriter. I'm not saying that to be hateful, that's all it is, just a bunch of random typing. No words. Just junk.

If you can't tell, I'm working from a list I made of things that I wanted to talk about. I'll try to finish it up fast: I heard a shoe was running for president, finally, a worthy candidate; I saw an old episode of Orange County Choppers the other night and thought it was a new one, that they had gone back in the original direction, which I believe is all it would take to bring it back; and I think I could have a talk show since some of the ones that I've heard this week are so lame. One lady talked for hours about her local butcher. Another seemed to have suffered a speech impeding illness. I am sure I could titillate listeners with talk about chickens and going to the bar and weather. A sure formula for success, indeed (Sherlock Holmes influence)!

Swallow Solution

Aren't you getting tired of seeing photos of the front of my house? Well, here's one more. We put streamers along the eaves of the house to see if that would deter the swallows, and it did! I tried to think of something that would make them leery of flying, because birds are all about their wings. I still don't understand what made them abandon the culvert. Maybe because there wasn't any rain to wash the old nests out. I may go out there later and attempt to clear the way.

I was reading an article about country living. The author was talking about the joy of living on his historic fancedy-pants ranch, drinking Beaujolais wine, looking at centuries old age-ed wood out-buildings while wearing his uber-stylish but "distressed" rich stitched boots which were propped upon his anally maintained porch-rail (Not exactly his words, but just precious).

Here's my take: living in an old farm house in need of constant repair, drinking a cup of Folger's coffee, looking at a shop that we made ourselves while wearing an old t-shirt, sweats and flip-flops, sitting on old metal patio furniture that's been painted a million times. And lovin' it. It's so nice to get up in the morning and walk around in the yard with a cup of coffee, piddling with chickens, kittens, the sprinkler, plants. No neighbors to stare you down, just lost in your own world.

I guess the author of that article probably enjoys the country life as much as I do, but his is in the manner of J.R. on Dallas, while mine is more of an Ace Reid type of existence. Both suffice, I suppose.

The Birds

I've had a series of experiences with fowl in the recent weeks, the latest occurring today when a bunch of mud-nest making birds decided to reside under the eaves of my house. I keep going out there to shoo them away and spray down the beginnings of nests with the water hose. I went and looked in the cement culvert they usually stay in to see if there was an obvious reason they had taken to the house, but I didn't see anything. Maybe they know it's going to rain and wash away their nests.

I saw a pheasant out here a few weeks ago, and I've had three other people tell me they have also seen it. He just pecks along the side of the road, not caring a fig about traffic, so busy with his doings. It's so funny, because one year we went to North Dakota, and I was just about guaranteed a pheasant sighting, but it never happened. I had to wait until pheasants came to Texas to see one.

That same week I also heard a road runner make a sound for the first time in my life. One time I heard one thrum it's beak when it thought I was threatening it's baby, but this time I heard an actual voice. I was at a neighbor's house getting out of my car when I heard a mournful sound that I first thought was a dove. Then I thought it might be a dog shut up in the garage. I moved my head to hear the sound more clearly when something on the peak of the roof caught my eye. There was the roadrunner standing there, then I saw his throat move, like a rooster's does, when he made the sound. It's nice to know there are still things to discover in a place I'm overly familiar with.

Also that same week I had gone north from Camp Springs up to the ranch at the end of the road, then turned left onto the dirt, when I saw some of the funniest white birds. They didn't look like an egret. Each had a big, rounded-out face with an amusing expression. It made me laugh.

Of course I didn't have my camera for any of the photo opportunities! Prepared? Not me. I was sorry to see what looks like grackles in the back yard this morning. I'm a big animal lover, I hate to run over even a mouse in the road, but those rude birds may inspire me to do some target practice with the .22.

P.S. Ms. Chicken and five chicks have been forced back to the coop since I found one dead on the shop floor. Boy, was that a dumb idea!

An Independent Chicken

A few months ago, one of the hens moved out of the chicken house and onto a shelf in the shop. I thought, "Hey, this chick has a mind of her own", and left her do as she pleases. Also, I don't know how to make a chicken do anything beyond their normal instinct.

One day when I was looking for something, I stood on a stool and found that Ms. Chicken had been laying eggs up on that shelf. Some had even rolled down and fell on the breaker box. To keep the eggs from rolling, I put hay up there. I didn't collect or toss the eggs because they felt warm and I didn't know how far in she was with them. And chicks on a shelf? I'd just cross that bridge when I got to it.

Yesterday I heard a ruckus and figured it was just the usual chicken antics, but I went outside to see what was going on, and found one little chick peeping around on the shop floor. I scooped it up and popped it back up on the shelf while mother hen threatened to flog me. I got to watching her and saw that there were three peepers up there, cute as can be.

It probably seems like I should get them all down and put them in a safe place, but I tell you what. Last year when I found chicks, I immediately put them in a pen that we raised the original bunch in, with a dog carrier for a nest area. The baby chicks couldn't make the jump up to the lip of the carrier, so I put a piece of wood there for them to jump up on; there were two mother hens, so I put them together, and one pecked a hole in the other one's chick's head; the chicks got out of the pens through the holes in the chicken wire (wonder why they call it that), etc., etc. Anyway, after a myriad of issues, the chicks were finally big enough that they were roosting with the other chickens. Then one morning  after I opened the pen, I went back out there for some reason, and something had eaten every single one of them.

So this year, I'm just going to let mama hen be the chicken expert. If she wants here babies on a shelf, so be it. I'm not going to put a lot of work into killing them, this time. I'll just keep picking them up from the shop floor and tossing them back in the nest.

Local Fame

I wanted to mention that Glen Strickland made the front page of the Abilene Reporter News this past weekend. There are tons of good photos from the fire on this link. If you don't recognize some of these folks, you must be from somewhere else.

On the Bricks

- Downtown Roscoe -

Sometimes I'm uninspired, but this week I have more words and pictures than I could possibly post here. I'll try to condense it, as Campbell says.

Roscoe did not disappoint with the Spring Fling Saturday evening. Lots of people and music, food and drink. The children were wonderful. If everyone would have cut loose like the kids, there would have been one crazy street-dancing party. Even the tiniest of toddlers was boogie-ing on the the bricks.

The crowd was entertained by Lawless Flatz, the Tejas Brothers and later, at the Lumberyard, Scott Hammock. Smoke and ash was coming in on the south wind from the Wildcat Fire in Coke County, hitting us in the teeth as we all laughed, talked and hollered for the bands. Surely songwriters throughout the state are busy writing about the time all of Texas was burning. It seems like it is, anyway.

I met some folks at the gas pump in Sweetwater yesterday and they were headed to Houston from Midland, where they've had horrible house-burning fires. They were ready to get somewhere that the sky wasn't filled with soot.

I met Ed Duncan, author of the Roscoe Hard Times and keeper of the Roscoe Historical Museum. I got to talk his ear off twice, and I appreciate his patience with me. Ed is brother to my Norway contact, Joe Duncan.

Here's hoping that next week I won't have to mention fires, except maybe as a wrap up story. The forecast calls for high winds until Wednesday and a chance of rain Thursday night. That's for Fisher Co. If I look at the NOAA forecast for Scurry Co., just a mile up the road, there's not any chance of rain. This is one time when I hope the weather guy has gotten it wrong.

Camp Springs Road closed

The fire changed course and went west of us. The Camp Springs/1614 intersection is closed right now. From my side the fire begins about at George Maule's driveway or just this side of Glen Williamson's old place. Crews are quickly making their way to US 180 to try to keep the blaze from jumping the road as it moves to the south.

This photo was taken about 20 minutes ago on the Fisher/Scurry County line on FM 1614. If you're coming from the west on Camp Springs road, you will have to detour, same thing if you're coming from the west on FM 1614, you won't be allowed to pass. There are numerous law enforcement officials on the scene.

Close Call, Or So I Thought

Last night around 6:20 p.m. or so, the wind changed from south to north and the Cooper Mountain Ranch fire up in Kent county got out of hand. That's the name of the fire I've been reporting on, I just didn't know it until I heard it on the news last night. Officials evacuated Rotan around 7:20 p.m., then allowed them back in about 10:30 p.m. It seems silly that I was all scared about the fire coming here when people were heading out this way to get to safety, but the announcement came over my weather radio, and that really got me going.

I didn't start smelling smoke until last night after Rotan was given the all clear. This morning it is very smoky and promising to be another windy day, so I'm going to keep on feeling silly and water the yard some more. My TxDOT source says he was out until 2:30 p.m. last night and went back to work at 7:30 a.m. this morning to run a maintainer up north fighting the fire. To the layman, a maintainer is a Caterpillar; up north is Kent County.

The photo is of airplanes that I keep seeing flying in and out of the fire zone. People I know were surprised about the fire because I had never mentioned it. It has become that common for a fire to be burning, I don't even bother mentioning it in day to day conversation. We've been watching it burn for days and hearing the sounds of helicopters and planes working to battle the flames.

Check out stories and video about the fire on Big Country Home Page, the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal, the Abilene Reporter News, and anything else you can Google.

You, Too, Can Fight Forest Fires

Well, I don't really know about that, but you can keep up with the range fires we're having here in Texas through the Texas Forest Service. When you get to the site, look under Spotlight and you can read current updates in text, or you can look at maps on Google Earth. I have a wish that they'll have a fire station (on a tv channel, nice play on words) and burn radar that shows fires the way we watch storms. Good luck figuring out that Google Earth thing. My computer runs too slow.

The photo was taken around 6:20 p.m. today. The wind changed direction from sw to nw. This smoke is from the Kent County fire. That little bit of white on top looks just like a thunderhead. TxDOT guys are on the Kent and Fisher co. line keeping traffic safe.

Roscoe Hard Times: City of Roscoe Hosts “Spring Fling”

Spring Fling info now available.

Rough on Fire

- 2011 Rough Creek fire -

This photo was taken from the Grady Cemetery this afternoon, looking northwest over Rough Creek. From my house it looks like it's about to burn the back yard, but a neighbor stopped and said he had heard it was on the Clairemont highway going north out of Snyder. I figure that's SH 208, a long way from here.

The fire departments have been busy, busy. Last night they were up, down and sideways out here. I could smell fire but never could see any flames. Today I was in Rotan and passed two trucks going west on FM 611, then saw one going north towards the river bridge on 70. Some of the state hands have been on stand-by for that big 50,000 acre fire in Swenson. You can read more about Texas fires on the Big Country Home Page.

Abundance

The pancakes have been made and the froofy vanilla coffee has been brewed and drank. Drunk? Dranken? Anyway, as you can see, there are plenty of eggs in my house for cooking. It seems like I'm either completely inept, like when I try to play the guitar or sew, or I find that I'm wildly skilled at something I never dreamed of, like raising chickens that lay lots of eggs. This bowl is not all of the eggs in my refrigerator. The door is full, holding 18, and I keep the freshest dozen in a carton. If you're thinking you would like some, just let me know. A woman can eat only so many deviled eggs.

Last night we had an invasion of black click-beetle bugs that had a vicious bite. I had the heebie-jeebies so bad that I was jumping out of my skin when my hair touched my face. I never have had such happen before, but it's always some new experience here in the country. I tried to find one to photograph this morning, but I guess they're party bugs, only out late at night. I couldn't even find a dead one.

The other day I was sitting in the dentist's chair, feeling sleepy as I watched the trees swaying in the window, and I realized I had been sitting in those chairs for over forty years. I've never been to any other dentist office in my life. I live in the same house I did when I was a kid, drive the same roads, see the same people. It's not dull, I'm sure many of you have lived the same way. I was looking at the tank this morning, the one behind the house, and in my mind's eye I could see me and my grandma sitting out there fishing with cane poles. I could have watched us all morning. That's what makes living in the same place worth it to me. The memories come easier because the canvas my life was painted on is right in front of me.

We went to the Lumberyard in Roscoe a couple of times this week. I know the bands that play on the weekend nights are good, but I wanted to see what it was like during the day. I gotta tell ya, I like this place. The food is good, the atmosphere is so laid back and the people who work there are nice, something you really can't take for granted around here. Folks were coming in and out, making for some enjoyable people watching. Good old country music was playing when we were there yesterday. Hank Williams, Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline. When we were there earlier this week, contemporary country music was playing. It's all good. You can sit inside or outside. All ages.

If you need a good reason to go to Roscoe, the Spring Fling is this coming weekend, April 16. Featured entertainment will be live music with the Tejas Brothers and Lawless Flatz, a children's play area, vendors, and fireworks. Believe me, Roscoe knows how to throw down when it comes to a celebration. So kill yourself two birds with one stone, and check out this new hotspot of West Texas!

Snappy Little Ditty Needed

In my goals as a writer, I aspire to author a book or books one day, also bushels of poems and songs. My big problem is that I can't get past the title. Here are a few of my wanna-be big hit songs: The Postman's Cryin', Too Drunk to Dance and I'm Your Damned Fool. Can't you just hear the opening notes? Now you have probably realized why I don't have a career in writing. If only the words would come to me, or if I could hunt them down and catch them.

Joe, West Texan in Norway, sent me a picture of him putting up an owl box. The owls are considered useful in eradicating mice and rats. A hoot owl woke me up the other night. Maybe it was telling me to build it a box. I kept listening to hear if it was carrying off a cat, puppy or chicken.

That same night I heard what I thought was coyotes. In my mind it was a big ball of animals yipping, squeaking and yelping. It started far away, then was so close to the house that the hair stood up on the back of my neck and the dog started barking. Then the sounds quickly moved away. Maybe it was a group of elusive ring-tail cats. I wonder if I'll ever get to see one of those creatures. I'm always on the lookout for one.

What the Tree Said

I was going to talk about seeing all the signs of spring, culminating in the budding of mesquites, and how I took the plastic off my windows and air conditioners, the true proof of changing seasons. Then I woke up this morning and it's 42 degrees with blowing mist. I've got a fire going in the stove.

No complaints about the moisture. A bolt of lightning would strike you on top of the head if you complained about it being too wet out here, even if you were sitting on the roof of your house and the water was to the rafters.

Funny, the weather man gets to keep his job, no matter how many times he's wrong.

A couple of weeks ago, I heard that the speed limit would be changing, again, and I'm always suspicious that this topic is just a smoke-screen to draw our attention away from more significant matters. It looks especially shifty right now since the highway department's budget has been cut to the bone. Repairing only the wheel-path instead of the whole lane is proof of how drastic the reduction has been. So modifying the speed limit at this time is not in keeping with the idea of being economical. Changing all those signs out is an expensive and major project.

With that in mind, I urge you to check out the Texas Legislature Online and see for yourself what's going on at the capitol. Look at Filed House Bills and Filed Senate Bills. You won't give the speed limit another thought when you read these hair-raising and often confusing proposals. Like Senate Bill # 40, creating the Texas Guaranteed Student Loan Corporation. Huh. If they're just now creating it, who have I, and everyone and their dog, been indebted to for much of our life and probably until our death? Yes, yes, I'm sure if I researched it, there is some distinct or oblique reason to be creating the same business that already exists. Be sure to check out Section 17 of this bill. The laws that it repeals, if the bill is passed, may be of interest to you.

One more thing. I should be used to the hypocrisy of the conflicting messages that come over the magic picture box that sits in my living room, but I am continuously astonished at seeing such things as news articles railing against obesity funded by commercials for chocolate candy. The new duplicity I witnessed is closer to home and perplexes me. The last three weeks we have been bombarded with outcries against the cutting of education funding; I even heard and saw with my own ears and eyes the governor say that there was going to be a huge, gashing cut in education. Then this week I heard about a convention type deal sponsored by the Texas Education Agency to try to induce high-school students to go into the teaching profession. I hope I don't have to explain this incongruity. It's just stupid, especially since the TEA is a Texas government organization. Come on, kids, have a career in a failing field!

I'm sorry to be so disingenuous today and sound like a whiny complainer, and some of you may have noticed that I leaned heavily on the thesaurus button. My head feels as cloudy as the weather. The weather man promised clearing skies this afternoon. Cross my fingers.

Puppy Puppy

I was wondering why Puppy Puppy sounded so familiar to me and I just remembered that I had a dog by that name back in the '80's. It was always barfing in the car so I would ride around with it's head hanging out the window. I eventually gave her to a family who was dead set on her being a male, despite that she was obviously pregnant, and, well, female. After that I would sometimes go by her new home, slip her out of the back yard and take her for a ride. A short one. It was the long drives that made her sick.

Anyway, after a long week of puppy deaths due to a skunk raid, we're left with three fat sausage puppies. They are the product of two brown labs breeding. The white one surprised me, but I'm no expert on how DNA works. They sure are noisy and have to be treated with care. With kittens, you just throw them in a box in the closet and the mother does all the work. The puppies are just so vulnerable.

The latest saga in the Colorado City Dunn case is that the mother was arrested on misdemeanor charges. I meant to buy The Snyder Daily News yesterday, because there was a big article with a huge photo of Billie Dunn being handcuffed, taking up everything above the fold in the paper. I can't decide if I think Ms. Dunn and company are involved in Hailey's disappearance or if they're just people of questionable intelligence and morals that had this horrible thing happen to them. I'm sure if you put my life under a microscope, I might not look so savory. How about you?

A Small Fetish

I have a fascination with buttons. Buttons in a jar. Just love 'em. Don't know why. I'm not much of a collecting type person (although you might think my real fetish was for dust if you saw my house), but if I were, I would have row upon row of shelves filled with buttons in mason jars.

I found a small cache this morning in an old sewing basket. It's funny what gets mixed in with button collections. Other button sized things. A bullet. An old token. Jetsam and flotsam.

I've collected other things for no good reason. Egg shells. Paper trash. These were recycling projects gone awry, actually. I don't know how to recycle without becoming a hoarder.

I am ashamed of my little collecting manias. Then, of course, I see someone on television or in the paper who went whole hog on their toothpick or eraser collection, and now it's worth millions.

Just think, I could have a fortune in eggshells, if only I would have persevered.

Big Fire

- Owens Compound -

Some friends of mine happened to live in the middle of the 2500+ acre fire that was in Fisher County this week. The fire burned right up to the foundation of one of the houses.

Word is that the county commissioners lifted the burn ban on Monday and a rural resident burning trash let the fire get out of control. The fire flared back up on Tuesday and ran a course which included jumping SH 70 just north of the Palava bridge.

Tuesday night I could see the rolling smoke from here at Hobbs and could see orange glowing light from the flames once the sun had set.

I was at the fire location on Wednesday, and the Parks and Wildlife plane was circling overhead while a big yellow helicopter with a hose hanging from the bottom came out, sucked up water from a stock tank and dumped it on flaring hotspots.

The worst damage was the loss of fencing and firewood.

You can read more about the fire on Big Country Home Page.

Barn Razing

- Templeton barn demolished -

The big ol' chicken house has bit the dust. Anyone who has been by my place out here at Hobbs knows the long, rambling barn where my grandpa had an egg laying operation, and later on, my dad and uncle had a hog outfit. My grandma used to say "Let's go down to the farrowing barn" but I thought she was saying fire barn, so I always imagined it being full of flames.

I was a little weepy when I saw it being torn down. It's been there my whole life and I've spent a lot of time in the barn. I was flogged by a hen in there when I was three, I spent the night in there with my grandma and uncle one cold night when we had to keep a close eye on the pigs, and my and my grandma's names were written in the cement in 1966, when the concrete was poured.

Now that it's gone, though, I see that it had out-stood it's time. I was unaware of what an eyesore it was, and it's refreshing to see the trees that were behind. It had also become unsafe, with one side drooping, pulling the other side toward it. I can't wait to see the property once spring comes.

Joe Duncan, my Norway connection via Roscoe, has been telling me about the Arrowheadology website. You can go on the site and talk about your experiences and share pictures with other arrowhead enthusiasts. Joe has posted his own very old Paleo-Indian find under Gallery. It's estimated to be somewhere in the neighborhood of 10,000 years old. He found it north of Roscoe, near Cottonwood Creek.

Ricky Niell sent me a link to a page on his website Razzle Dazzle Art, which is a tribute to beloved Rotan citizen Norma Gibson, who recently died. Should you be in Rotan, be sure to go into the Thriftway grocery store and see how she used her talent to capture the essence of Fisher County in large murals that are displayed along the inside perimeter of the store.