Finally, I can take arched bridges with relative ease. Only took, well, since about 1980. That’s, uh, 35 years or thereabouts. Have yet to try the one to Corpus, however.
Got to do it most days to get up the Highway 183 overpass, north of the rancho, so I’ve had plenty of practice staring at the white lines instead of looking from side to side. Now I can look over the side. Long as I’m not too close, of course.
I still try to take the stairs instead of the elevator. Some phobias never die.
Posted in Blogosphere, History, Obsessions, Rancho Roly Poly
“What we are seeing is a public that is coming to the conclusion that the game is rigged. Vote Republican or Democrat and the results are the same and always at odds with the wishes of the people. There are other social forces at work, of course, but the people in charge are undermining the legitimacy of the system over which they preside.”
So we see a Trump riding to the rescue. Except he’s not likely to turn out to be any less crooked than the rest of them. The system needs an overhaul. But I have no idea how it’s to be accomplished. Armed revolution? Revolutions usually turn out badly, the American one was one of the exceptions. Unless you were a Tory. But that was long ago. In a much smaller and more heterogeneous galaxy far, far away.
Via The Z Man.
Made a new friend the other weekend at Torah Study at Beth Shalom, a fellow a few years older than my almost 72 who is from Round Rock, up the road north from the rancho.
Turned out we were driving the same make and model of cars, Honda CRVs, though his was newer. Did not however snap to his interest in Frank Sinatra. Said he was playing Ol’ Blue Eyes’ CDs everywhere he drives these days.
I still prefer Andrea Bocelli, among others, but I was curious to learn of the land rush in Sinatra memorabilia and recollections since his 100th birthday back on December 12. A Jack Daniels commemorative whisky, among other things.
And that his body was secreted in a Jewish funeral home prior to burial in 1998 to spare the family from the inevitable paparazzi:
“Though Sinatra wasn’t Jewish, he was a big activist for Jewish and Israeli causes, including a youth center in the Arab town of Nazareth. It seems fitting then that when he faced ‘the final curtain,’ he was given the solemnity he deserved…”
Via Jewniverse.
I think it’s one of Newton’s laws. The main one had something to do with, uh, the gravity of the situation. What goes up must come down. Unless it goes into orbit. He didn’t know from orbits. But this proves jalapenos aren’t the only intestinal destroyer.
“The following evening, I was reminded about yet another property of the Ruby Root, having been momentarily horrified at the reddish color appearing in the porcelain bowl. ‘Holy crap!’ I thought. ‘Am I passing another kidney stone?’ And then I remembered the beets.”
I haven’t remembered a beet since childhood, when ma-man used to served them sliced from the can. I think it was a can. Haven’t seen one since.
Back in the mid-1980s, I was assigned to cover the local AIDS epidemic. I got used to reading, talking and writing about HIV and its impact on people, usually gay men, but sometimes straight men and women. I got to know a few of them well, and went to their funerals.
Thursday, taking our new furry friend Pumpkin/Garfield to the vet for a checkup, I learned that he has Feline Immunodeficiency Virus, the cat version of HIV. It cannot infect humans and is spread between cats primarily by bites. According to Wikipedia, it is estimated to have thus far stricken a mere 4.4 percent of the cats in the world. According to some web sites on cats, Senor Gato has a maximum of five years to live.
While Mr. Boy and I already were working on keeping our new companion indoors, for our sake as well as his own, we now must do it, according to the vet, to keep him from spreading the disease to other cats in the neighborhood. And for his own protection since a common bacterial or viral infection that a healthy cat might fight off quickly could kill one, like him, with a damaged immune system. His own litter box could kill him if it isn’t kept clean.
Ironic, to be sure. Having recently lost Mrs. Charm to advanced cancer we have now returned to caring for the dying. And, eventually, to grieving the loss of another loved one. It seems to be the way of our world.
Posted in Cancer, History, Mr. Boy, Mrs. Charm, Rancho Roly Poly, Senor Gato
Tagged Feline Immunodeficiency Virus, FIV, Senor Gato
Got this from sportswriter friend Cedric Golden of the daily. Made me laugh. Reminded me of the mechanic the other day at the dealership who was amazed at the 5-speed in my Honda CRV. Hardly ever see them, he said, but he heard they were fun to drive. If you know how, sure. Even Mr. B.’s driving lessons are strictly with an automatic. Manual is a complete mystery to him.
“We bluff and bluster, seemingly in control of our little slice of life. In reality, every one of us is connected with invisible threads to every other human on this planet.”
The Way It Was…and now it isn’t
Good stuff from Andy at MyOldRV
Posted in Blogosphere, History, Scribbles, Texana
THE TEXAS SCRIBBLER 