Category Archives: Rancho Roly Poly

Mason County, Texas

Scott at The Fat Guy, apparently already suffering from the noise and traffic of San Antonio, although he just recently moved there from Dallas, has taken up a casual comment I made about considering moving to Mason County. He likes winding, dark, two-lane roads, fly-fishing, hunting, and plenty of open spaces and few neighbors. The links he found and the comments he’s drawn so far make me wish I could move tomorrow. That’s the great thing about these Internets. You can go back to the country and still make a living, if you need to. But, until Mr. B. finishes school (about nine more years) and Mrs. Charm retires, it will probably not be possible for me.

Online games

It was inevitable and it has come to pass. Mr. B. has become enamored with Wizard 101, an online computer game. It was developed, as it happens, by folks in Austin and Dallas. It even has recommendations from Austin school district teachers, as well as good reviews. Seems safer than the average first-person shooter and, in fact, isn’t violent at all. Just the thing, apparently, for a third grader. We shall see how it goes.

Good sports analysis

The daily’s good sportswriters, Kirk Bohls, Cedric Golden, Suzanne Halliburton and Alan Trubow are the icing on the cake after a satisfying Texas win. Even when the Longhorns lose, KB, CG, SH, and AT are there to explain why. Around the rancho, they complement the good game announcing/commentary of KVET-FM ("The Genuine Austin Original") and their Longhorn Radio Network. Thanks, guys, we wouldn’t enjoy it half as much without you.

Damn cedar fever

It’s back, the annual winter malady whose culprit pollen isn’t really cedar and doesn’t really cause a fever. It’s complicated. It’s about junipers called mountain cedar, and when the stuff gets up your nose you just feel feverish. Mostly my eyes and the roof of my mouth itch, and of course my nose runs. Runs where? Not far enough. It’s a Central Texas curse that simply must be endured until we get enough rain to clear the pollen out of the air. And in our continuing drought that will be a problem. Have to use the Neti pot. Bleh.

Weeping Sponge

Mr. Boy certainly got Viacom’s message on Time-Warner’s threat to remove SpongeBob and some of Mr. B.’s other favorites from TW’s cable (our primary local provider). We do appreciate his little lesson in cutthroat capitalism and also the temporary agreement forestalling the Sponge’s demise. But he and we wonder why Viacom really needs an extra four dollars per cable customer from TW to keep providing the Sponge and his pals? Must be all that debt Viacom is carrying. But TW has its share.

Happy New Year, y’all

Still scouting around for appropriate links for likely end of the year sentiments.

I hope the IDF can end the Gaza deal with minimal casualties of its own. I’m sure our spineless leaders–who nevertheless provide IAF bombs–will force them to quit soon, as they always do.

Mr. Boy claims he wants to stay up until midnight, but he probably won’t make it. He had a sleepover last night at a pal’s place out in the western hills, events which usually mean little actual sleep. Fortunately he hasn’t heard about this yet, so we’re safe for another year, anyhow.

I’m hustling to finish a Civil War historical novel in time for Amazon’s Feb. 2 fiction contest. That will be it for me and make-believe. My next literary attempt will be some non-fiction Texana.

Mrs. Charm and I will spend a quiet evening and then enjoy her day off tomorrow, although forecast is for chilly. At the least we’ll get going on airline reservations for a planned D.C. trip in March.

UPDATE: My novel made the first cut to the top twenty percent. Then it went down in flames on the second cut to five percent. Oh, well. Bragging rights, at least, in the impending hunt for an agent.

The singing refrigerator

Alan Sullivan’s Xmas leftovers are singing to him from his refrigerator: Come eat us! Now! I know the sound, sort of. For me it’s the trilling of the sweets drowning out the basso of the meat and potatoes. But, alas, I must return to my pre-holiday diet if I am to continue avoiding a dance with the Big D of diabetes.