THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER

I have rented a violin, embarking upon an effort to learn the instrument. Next is finding a teacher near the rancho. I have no illusions. It took me years to learn to play the trumpet and I was never very good at it. Likewise the acoustic guitar. Violin is just something I’ve been thinking about [...]

They won the second game, 2-1, thanks to Ian, Elvis, Josh and Michael, in the top of the ninth. Whoo-eee, what a game. Then Neftali closed the Cards out. The chant title is from Mr. B’s old T-ball team, back in ’06, which was also called the Rangers. Now home to Arlington for three, which [...]

It’s bad enough to learn that a friend has died, but even worse to find that he died six years ago and you didn’t know it. Douglas S. Godbey Douglas S. Godbey, age 55, passed away Saturday, December 17, 2005. Doug was born in Dallas to JJ and Louise, where he was raised with his [...]

Very quiet around the Rancho these days, with Mr. B. at his week-long camp at Lost Pines, the pine forest near Bastrop, about an hour east of Austin. Weather service says it’s a bit cooler out there than here, especially at night with the breeze off the lake. This is Boy Scouts, so much of [...]

I should have written this already. Like back at the first of the month. When Mr. B. officially walked out of his fifth grade classroom, took about ten steps and was out the north-side door of the school and the door closed behind him on its pneumatic valve. Sigh. Thunk. Forever. He says he won’t [...]

This is Mr. B.’s last week in fifth grade and it’s being devoted to “health education.” Not nutrition. Not exercise. But puberty, its physical and emotional effects on boys and girls, sexual activity, rape, sexual harassment and sexually transmitted diseases such as AIDS. The school gave parents a chance to come see the curriculum materials [...]

…is that it gradually induces honorable behavior, even if it takes the better part of a lifetime. Thus it did not surprise me when Mr. Boy returned from his latest camping trip—to a beautiful, watered ranch in the hills near Driftwood—and his stint as patrol grubmaster, with a bunch of squishy, black bananas, two of [...]

Artzi, the Israeli parks authority guy. Er, an ibex, actually. Snoop tracked down a stuffed one for Mr. B., who at eleven years old has one foot in adulthood, but the other still in stuffed-animal-collecting childhood.

All the windows are open and the ceiling fans chucking around. Got heavy objects on the loose papers in the study to keep them in place. Fortunately it’s only in the upper 80s lower 90s and there’s a nice breeze. Regular old-timer Texas (pre-AC) feel to the day so far. Part of the sheet rock [...]

It seems there was this Norwegian kid, see, who met this moose. And the kid had to save his little sister, see. So (what else) he called on his intimate knowledge of World of Warcraft. And the rest is history. Cultural history. Sort of. Too bad Mr. B. only plays Grepolis. Via Dustbury.