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September 27, 2006 Bunny Takes Some Killer Photos
Bunny returned from Africa in one piece and grinning from ear to ear. Her trip was all she hoped it would be.
She took some killer photos. I will put a couple up here, but you need to click on the following to go see more
great stuff on her Flickr page:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/queen_cheri/
Yeah, I named her Flickr page. What's your point?
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September 23, 2006 Another Hard Drive Failure
No, I am not kidding.
It isn't as if I am getting my computers from Big Bad Bullet Bob's Budget Laptops and Loose Slots of Fun.
The last one was a Sony Vaio and this one is...was... an HP. Two weeks after the purchase of a new computer and after
loading all my personal files, photos and information, we have total failure. They first tried to reload the operating
system. It didn't work. They reformatted the harddrive. Yes, that means all your stuff is toast. It didn't work. They now
have me shipping it to them so they can replace the harddrive. I don't think they believe it either.
I am beginning to have true performance anxiety.
I'm gonna have trouble with you today, huh?
I'm talking computers. C'mon...focus.
I have returned to our house in Dallas after spending exactly three nights here since May.
Keep in mind that we only lived here for a couple of months before we left for Colorado, so there is a certain post-move
discomfort here anyway. Additionally, in our absence, our son has since moved from Ft. Worth back to Dallas and is
staying at our new, smaller house while he starts a new job. After five years in his own apartment in another city, all his
stuff moved to our new, smaller house along with him and his little dog, Toto. Yikes.
Bunny continues her globetrotting excursion to the dark continent. She might be somewhere between Johannesburg
and London on the Bataan Death Flight that seems like it will never end. It's not just me. Even she says so. She still
seems to think it is worth it. I'd rather stay home and smoke another computer into oblivion. Hey, I'm loyal to all three of
you readers. Sure wouldn't want you to miss out on any of this crap.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I cannot find anything I need. For instance:
where are the bbq tongs?;
why don’t we have a can opener that works. The dogs would like this question to be everyone’s top priority;
the vacuum needs to be found or it is off to Sears to find something to suck up the dirt.
Maybe Bunny is in Zambia or Tanzania or some such. If I could figure out how, I would text message her all my
questions. I'd like to text message her this page.
Here are some of the things that I have found in the house, but have not yet figured out a use for:
nine wicker-like baskets that presumably you insert flower pots into so they are better decorated (We’ve been gone for
four-plus months. All the plants are dead and gone which would explain why we have decorative baskets but no plants
in flower pots.);
a large box full of loose bed parts to Bunny’s antique brass bed – no wonder it won’t stay together;
14 cans of tuna fish – huh?;
a box of mysterious European cheddar crackers with the brand spelling of ‘Waiffers’ – not eating them under any
circumstance;
from the pantry – one half eaten chocolate Easter bunny wrapped in anonymous foil. No year noted anywhere.;
an instruction booklet for hooking up TIVO. Dream on. There is no way I am reading it;
two hard, plastic-like, off-white foosballs;
a radon detector with no battery;
three adding machines (if you are under 40 years old, you have no idea what this is. It is the pre-historic calculator that
printed all the numbers on a tape of actual paper. While we are talking about items that you have no clue of their
existence, car windows were not always electric. Try to get over the shock. There was a time when dinosaurs roamed
freely and you had to manually roll the window down. Sorry to burst your bubble. It was back when people actually spoke
to each other instead of IM-ing or text messaging them. LOL:)
If you are under 40, shut up.
Here are a few items on my To-Do list:
Need a new fence or at a bare minimum, reinforce the old one. Dogs plotting an escape. I can see it in their eyes.
Maybe if I find a working can opener they will stay;
House exterior needs painting. Are you old enough to remember Ma and Pa Kettle?;
No one, including me and Bunny, can find a key to the house. Get a key and get a device to hide a key outside so we
can actually lock and subsequently get back in the house;
Upstairs air conditioning works with less efficiency than a block of ice and a rotating fan. Get new air conditioner. No
doubt this will send me into economically-driven-toxicity-shock;
File sales tax return with the State of Texas for both of the books I have sold. That'll keep 'em in operation.;
Answer the stack of IRS letters requesting more of my money;
Figure out which bills Bunny paid and which she didn’t;
Take the foosball table apart and force son to take it to his storage unit. He is a little confused because he cannot
imagine why everyone wouldn’t want a foosball table in their living room;
There is an enormous salt water aquarium in the dining room. It is really pretty. Determine whose it is, where it came
from and how soon it might be leaving. Unfortunately, I think I know whose it is and I am hoping he will take the
aquarium and still stay. He won't. Don't worry...he wouldn't dream of reading this drivel.
Bunny is headed home. I will save her these lists, the foosballs, the Waiffers and the radon detector. I ate the chocolate
bunny. If you didn't look at it, it was good.
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September 15, 2006 Bunny Went to Africa
September 15, 2006 Bunny Went to Africa
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
“Which is worse... getting shot or appearing on “The View?”
Jimmy Kimmel speaking to rapper, 50 Cent
My niece, Missy, is realizing significant success in her volleyball endeavors in her junior season with the
University of South Carolina – Aiken Lady Pacers. She is a stud.
I am somewhat entertained by them listing Missy as 5’9” on their roster. It has been a longstanding tradition
on men’s basketball and football rosters to round the heights and weights in the programs UP to a nearby
height and weight that more properly reflects the desire to intimidate your opponent. Thusly, a 5’9”, 200lb
male nosetackle may occasionally be presented in print as a 6’, 220lb sculpted specimen to the program
buying public. The trend in women’s volleyball seems to be the exact opposite. Apparently they want their
opponents to think they have been stuffed by a short lady or they want their opponents to see smaller
heights than the actuality and think they might have an easy time of it. While Missy is not quite as tall as
me, she is a little closer to my 6’2” than to the advertised 5’9”. When she wears heels and I don’t, we are
pretty much eye to eye. Here is a recent photo of Missy (right), her sister, KK (left), flanking new cousin,
Megan (center), the recent bride of Missy and KK’s brother. We got some beauty genes from somewhere.
Uh…Megan (center) does NOT play volleyball as she is somewhat height challenged. We love her anyway.
My guess is that Missy is 5’10” or a little taller. Missy says KK is even taller than her.
I encourage you to admire Missy’s recent extraordinary athletic work here:
http://www.pacersports.com/volleyball/vol2006news12.html
In the meantime, Bunny has hit the road.
Really.
Bunny is on safari. She went to Africa.
She has called a couple of times and text messaged me and all is well. She is with her Dad and Greta and
there should be a supreme passel of stories when she gets back at the end of September.
Now, let us discuss this plague that is called ‘text messaging.’
What a total butt whipping this little invention has become. I had never participated in the trendiness of text
messaging until my goofy wife went to friggin’ Africa, but now…now, I see the horror of it all.
This text message system has the potential of bringing about the fall of civilization. Run for your lives. It
takes 20 minutes to say “I am fine” but when I am done, it reads “iam?/ xxf i2n_e.” And forget figuring out
how to insert the period at the end of a sentence. No chance. Might as well have a keyboard on the stupid
phone written in Swahili. Not to mention that I must type on a keyboard the perfect size for me to strike six
letters at once with my giant fee-fi-fo-fum stump of a thumb. As soon as she is back to civilization, do not
expect more text messaging from me.
The five year anniversary of September 11 was nearly as painful for me as the four before that. Bunny and
I were in the Holiday Inn in Steamboat that morning in 2001 and getting ready to work on our house for one
more day before heading to Denver for a visit with friends. I turned on the TV while Cheri was in the shower
and the first plane had already hit. We both watched live and in disbelief as the second plane hit the top of
the south tower. We stood on top of that tower and were dazzled at the sight of beautiful Manhattan only 10
months before. It never did feel like it was real all at once. It was a traumatic generational event that had to
sink into my brain over time. The part of the day that brought me to my knees was the realization that we
were seeing people fall or jump from the top of that tower because their agony was too great to bear and
they knew it was hopeless. That thought and that sight will always hurt. As we realized what was happening,
we just wanted to be near our son.
The TV people and the papers kept telling us that the world changed that day. Maybe. I think mostly we just
realized that it had been different all along and we hadn’t known it until then. There are still wars and
terrorism and miserable extremists in every direction. Everything just moved around a little that day and
some of it came out into the open for all to see. The press will never rethink their knee-jerk reaction of
claiming the world had changed that day. In saying so over and over again, the press gave the
underachieving assholes exactly what they craved. The terrorists and their supporters got the satisfaction
of thinking they had changed the world. In our free country, you get to make comment without thought.
There is no law that says you have to be smart. That’s a shame.
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Eric and Evan on top
of the World Trade
Center, South Tower,
October 2000
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