Revenge...

...of the weeds.

I am convinced a larger cosmic consciousness connects us than we want to believe. Having a superior-to-the-nerds giggle while quoting Darth Vader, “The Force is strong with this one…” lets us continue our denial that the world is out to get us. My too long neglected yard sought to prove it repeatedly as some exceptional weeds, accustomed to reprieves, rioted against the realization the execution of their death penalty loomed as one after another of their fellow annual sprouts had their roots ripped from the nurturing soil.

A few challenged my most muscular tugs. One in particular mounted supernatural resistance. No matter what grip I took or what angle I pulled, I detected no give. My frustration released adrenaline, building my strength.

And this is how I know there is a greater cosmic force.

The force WAS strong with this one.

It recognized my multiplying might and held on until the cosmic consciousness promised justice if it would let go. In the instant the clouds cleared and (I AM CERTAIN) the Google Earth satellite with its ultra-high definition camera passed overhead snapping away, and after giving no suggestion of surrender, the entire root system uniformly slipped the surly bonds of earth, rolling me over, butt-up for the thrill of some future Googler.

Images of people caught in candid - and most definitely embarrassing poses - in the photos taken by Google for their map/streetview programs periodically go viral when someone has a reason to look closely at the picture and then sees, and shares, the unfortunate spectacle with the rest of the Internet. The regularity of those viral images eliminates any surprise that I should expect that every awkward moment gets recorded.

That someday a picture of me, rolled onto my back with my butt up in the air will not surprise me. I will not even be embarrassed. Because…if you pay close enough attention, you will see that though the force of my tug flipped me over, clutched victoriously in my fist is the weed that thought it a humiliating photo trumped its trip to the mulch bin.

Beware (Celebrate) the Underdog

From the beginning, this year’s football season disappointed me. I simply could not find a team or player I wanted to root for. The good Baptist in me kept telling me to get on the Baylor bandwagon and they impressed me in the games I watched - but given Baylor’s history, caution dominated. The thrilling end to the Alabama/Auburn game Thanksgiving weekend gave me some hope that the conference championship games would redeem the season.

The season’s final weekend left me smiling.

Two things that can be said for underdogs is that they are still dogs and they have fight.

In the conferences that have a championship game, both teams competing are there for a reason. Some conferences have disparity between the divisions, but teams rise to the top because they have demonstrated the greatest skill over the season.  That does not go away when they face a team perceived to be stronger. Almost universally, the underdog proved they deserved to be in the game.

And dang my dominating caution. After the earlier Oklahoma / Oklahoma State game eliminated the possibility of a tie for conference champion, I watched what turned into the Big 12 championship game with some Longhorn faithful. Despite our alma mater falling in the game, we all agreed that Baylor deserved the win - and Baylor as a program deserved it after the decades of mediocrity at best.

The competitiveness of the games reenergized what was becoming a lagging interest in sports. The underdogs, several times victorious, returned the excitement to sport. If the projections for the bowl games hold true, then bowl season promises to be as competitive as this weekend. The beginning did not meet my expectations, but if it ends the way the last weeks have been, then I will be happy - thanks to the underdogs.

Queso Freak

I do not know when it first came about, but a few years ago my reward for a week of eating well was a Friday night trip to one of several Tex-Mex restaurants in Austin that served what I considered to be good queso. Queso, chips, and salsa became my Friday night fix.

I could have a worse fix than queso.

At various points across the years I have had an entourage who joined me on a regular basis. We would get into such a routine that the staff knew what to bring me when I walked into the establishment. For the last year, I have mostly had my queso fix alone because my regular friends moved away or our schedules no longer align.

Does eating queso alone make me an addict?

I am somewhat picky about the queso. Heated Velveeta does not do it for me. It actually has to be some kind of cheese sauce. I also prefer the queso compuesto which means it comes with pico and meat and sometimes guacamole. I mix everything except any included guacamole into the cheese. I do not care for the avocado taste in the cheese, but I leave the guacamole floating in the hot cheese because warm guacamole actually tastes really good.

Recently I have been mastering the process of making my own queso from scratch. Getting a smooth sauce is not as difficult as I long imagined. I just had never done it right. Simply melting cheese does not a queso make.

I firmly believe that, much like bacon, cheese sauce makes almost anything better. Mastering the base for a cheese sauce allows for so many variations. One of my favorite variations involves making a smoky cheese sauce. When mixed with the right meats and pasta, it gives a sense of the grill. Properly incorporating fresh peppers into the base makes a very spicy sauce without the lumpy nature that sometimes happens when going for spicy. Using a variety of cheeses creates sauces as varied as the variety of cheeses in the fromagerie.

As much as I look forward to the queso itself on Friday nights, the real enjoyment of it comes from the company with friends and lively atmosphere in the restaurants. By going to the same ones so regularly, I recognize, and even know some of the regulars now. Despite my naturally introverted nature, I am comfortable enough in these places to relax and enjoy the company of others. Queso is just the bait to get me there.

Routine II

Even on the weekend, I generally wake up at my normal time of 5:00 a.m. I have done it for so many years that my body rises to consciousness regardless of when my alarm clock goes off. I actually enjoy the early rise on weekends. While many people look forward to the time to sleep in, I look forward to the quiet.

A cup of coffee (well, two pots) and news on the radio let me slip into the day with ease instead of rushing into it from the moment I awake. I start laundry, read headlines, and catch up with twitter and other social media. Even the noise around the neighborhood and from the airport is lacking during the early morning hours.

Now that football season is over, getting up early also gives me the chance to nap in the afternoon, a luxury reserved only for special days.

Due to the hectic nature of my schedule in the coming months and this being the last unscheduled weekend until May, I have enjoyed the early mornings to make the absolute most of my free time – and the nap to give me a little rest going into the week. My house is mostly clean and all my meals are prepared and packaged for the week, so I can head to bed relaxed and ready to step into a busy week.

Now I just have to keep it all together.

"Lost" in the Greenbelt

Following the Palm Sunday reading of the Passion Narrative from Matthew, the college group and I went for a hike in the Barton Creek Greenbelt.  Even though we were at unseasonably high temperatures for this time of the year, the hike was, as usual, a nice respite from the city in the middle of the city. Going with the college group, who had never, been made the trip even more fun than usual.

Throughout the hike, lively discussions took place covering on such topics as whether, having been used to kill a bear (or fight off a mountain lion) would make a walking stick any more valuable on the walking-stick-market. I argued that a good story and the appearance of being a trustworthy instrument would make the walking stick much more marketable than just a plain piece of wood pulled from a tree. Marketing can be as important as substance.

The "Lost" hiking in the Barton Creek Greenbelt

Other deep theological questions along the hike mulled “To which Hogwarts house do you belong,” and “What ‘Lost’ character best represents each person on the hike?” While the superficiality of pop-culture themes may seem to dominate the questions, the discussions about placement and characterization lacked any level of superficiality. Instead they behavioral observations and character understanding dominated the points made as individual qualities and quirks were compared with the qualities and quirks of the fictional groups and characters.

Because I have not followed either of the the series (Harry Potter and Lost), I spent the time making observations and asking clarifying questions. More than I could have imagined,  the depth of answers astounded me as did the complexity of characterizations. I had the best time listening to the answers and perspectives. I learned so much about their views of character and the pragmatic approach to character traits. Both good and bad could be argued in different character traits as they apply to the individuals in their respective worlds and the situations in which they found themselves.

I look forward to the next time I get to hear the group talking about topics of interest they have and plumbing the deep wealth of their thinking.

Kickball Hero

When: Spring 1976. 

Where: Stephen F. Austin Elementary School - Playground.

Who: Mrs. Dollar’s class vs. Mrs. Martin’s class.

What: Kickball!

Larson on the mound. Hopes at the plate.

It was over in a minute. Larson barely had a chance to look up to see the red speck growing larger to cover his entire face and knocking him over backward.

The memory that Hopes was bigger in third grade than I am now may be a bit of an exaggeration, but the fact that I flinch every time a ball comes my way, originated in that moment. As my kickball team has gone through a variety of practices, almost everyone on the team has recounted some kind of kickball horror memory. If the memory did not come from kickball, it came from some other sport.

Yet, here we are, playing on a kickball team as adults. Speaking for myself, I’m having a wonderful time at the games and look forward to our practices and game times each week. Deep inside, I am overcoming the horrors of the childhood playground and redeeming myself (because, honestly, I many not yet be the world’s best athlete, but I am in better shape than I ever was as a teenager) athletically.

Come on Friday! Bring it!

Scoot

Now that the heart of winter has settled upon us here in Austin, I have found it is the perfect time to dodge about town on my scooter. The weather has been shorts and tee-shirt perfect, so I’ve grabbed the camera, filled my backpack with a pad and pens, a bottle of water, hopped on my scooter and have started making my way to parks in Austin I never would have explored had I been driving my truck. In fact, I have driven by many of them and never noticed them as I passed.

So many (semi)quiet retreats are just around the corner. Just today I discovered a side trail to the Lady Bird (Town) Lake running trail with benches and tables and what appears to be ample shade when the trees are fully leaved in the summer. The little park offers view of Longhorn Dam and the decommissioned power plant that I never imagined. With the benches and tables I have room to work, write, and just sit as others pass by.

These are the first pictures I have kept of the old power plant that will soon be demolished.

Longhorn Dam at the end of Lady Bird Lake. This is the first time I have ever seen it from the lake side. For three years, I drove across it almost daily on my way to work.

As we move into spring and Austin comes alive, I am looking forward to enjoying this new passion as I explore more parts of a city I have loved for ten years.

Winter Water in the Greenbelt

At most points of the year, the bulk of the Barton Creek Greenbelt it dry with only patches of water. In my hike this past Sunday, I reached a point where I could hear water running, but I could not find it anywhere. Finally, I wandered over to the side of the Greenbelt and found where water was streaming down from a path  between two cliffs. Possibly the water was coming out of someone's ancient septic system or drainage from somewhere. I was glad not to be playing in it.

I absolutely loved the water flowing over the leaves. As I have posted numerous pictures of water flowing before, there is a life to the water that contrasts with the dead leaves in the bed of the otherwise dry creek bed.


Shortly after the water pooled past the area where it appeared and ran, it disappeared into the ground as a demonstration of the Edwards Aquifer Recharge zone.

Greenbelt in Winter

Sunday afternoon was such a beautiful time in Austin, that I could not stay at home no matter how much work I had to do. At one of my stops I discovered a friend had just taken a shortcut down to the Barton Creek Greenbelt, so I grabbed my camera and went down there to catch him. While the entire area contains some stunning sights, the one area with the cliffs - which can be accessed at several different levels is particularly stunning without the water flowing in the stream bed.

When the water is flowing, people jump from the cliffs into the water. At times when no water is flowing, the landscape transforms into a much more harsh and stark landscape.

Despite the differences in the landscape in winter, there are some areas of simple beauty with the contrasts in light and shadow.

I absolutely love the way the large stones in the center of the stream bed are surrounded by the more regular "river rock"

After each rain, different debris gets hung up at different points along the stream bed. My fascination with stumps is matched by such random droppings of sticks and other material along the path of the water.

Austin Scenes

Yesterday was such an amazingly beautiful day in Austin, I couldn't stay inside, so after making a quick dash home to change clothes, I hopped on my scooter and started driving around Austin. I went down to Lady Bird Lake and took some shots of the updated Austin skyline. Currently there is only one crane visible at the site of the new Federal courthouse (where the Intel building was imploded) when only a year ago the skyline was dominated by construction cranes.

I'm very excited about all the work being done around the old Seaholm Power Plant (above). It is being used for parties and events at this time, but is becoming a social hub for downtown Austin.

After scootering around S. Austin and meeting a couple friends down in the Barton Creek Greenbelt for a hike, I was riding home when I came over a hill and saw this view of downtown Austin. No, this is not Photoshop - it is one shot as the sun is setting to the west. I need to find out how to use this shot in my header.

Ahhh Spring 2010

Spring in Austin really is hard to beat. Today was one of the perfect examples with a comfortably cool morning with clear bright skies. The day morphed into a warm clear day, perfect for being outside. Coupled with all of this, the rain over the winter has all the local streams flowing nicely, so the trails along them are filled with the sounds of the stream rushing over rock.

I went with my friend, C., to walk the Greenbelt which has several popular gathering places at different rapids. With well marked trails and many people, it made for a relaxing afternoon sightseeing as we traversed the trails.

After our adventures along the trail ended, we stopped at the grocery store to pick up ingredients to make incredibly decadent burgers back at my place and continue to enjoy a perfect day outside. We made guacamole burgers with with sauteed bacon, mushroom, onion, and garlic. The burgers themselves were two patties with bleu cheese in between.

We tried to balance it out somewhat with grilled romaine lettuce topped with citrus salt and balsamic vinegar, but the decadence of cheese and bacon grease pretty much negated those valiant efforts.

Following dinner, we sat around the chiminea as we had small fire to take away the falling chill of the evening.

If only April could stay in Austin all year long.

Too Darn Hot

According to the Kinsey report
ev'ry average man you know
much prefers to play his favorite sport
when the temperature is low
but when the thermometer goes way up
and the weather is sizzling hot
Mister Adam for his madam is not
cause it's too too
it's too darn hot, it's too darn hot
It's too too too too darn hot

Cole Porter certainly knew what he was talking about when writing the lyrics for his song from Kiss Me Kate! This summer we have passed 40 days with over 100 degree temperatures. It may not set a record this summer because I think the record number of 100+ day was 89 for a year, but we are going to make a run at it. August until early September is generally the hottest part of our year and nothing in the weather pattern seems likely to break to give us relief anytime soon.

Yesterday I went to the river with some friends to go tubing. For those dear readers not from the south, tubing involves taking a big inner tube (from a truck or tractor tire), putting it in a river, climbing on, and floating for a few hours. At the end of the few hours, hopefully a good friend with a truck, or someone (tubing company) you paid, will be there to pick you up and take you back to your car. One usually brings along an extra tube – for the beer, which is the most important part of the trip.

The cypress and pecan lined sections of the Guadalupe we floated were nearly idyllic as the stream flowed gently and the temperature felt quite comfortable. The gentle flow under the baking sun was completely different. The cool water flowing below did little to keep any parts out of the water from quickly baking. Even with SPF 50, the sun won and left me with some bright spots on my face and a nearly perfect farmer's tan on my arms. Fortunately, the SPF 50 put up a good fight and I did not badly burn anywhere on my exposed body.

The purpose of such a trip is just for pure relaxation because one cannot do much work while navigating the river. The river gives us a few good lessons too. The gentle float down our nearby river sometimes gets broken up by a brief stint of rapids, but then shortly returns to its placid pace through cypress-lined banks or under the baking sun. The river has carved its path for centuries so that most of it is gentle, slow, and steady. The pace picks up and the rapids race, but briefly, from time to time. If we could get our lives to work like the river, we may find ourselves happier and more fulfilled in what we do. After all, the river has been doing the same thing for centuries.

I have not been tubing in a while and maybe I need to make it a regular habit. It is kind of like the lake in that I get away from work, but I can still read or do some writing at the lake. I have not found the book with plastic pages that will let me read it at the river – nor do I want to. The rapids can come unexpectedly, so it pays to be on guard at all times, but not so much that a few rocks along the bottom don't bump you in the butt.

Real People Behind the Screen

One of my personal characteristics that most people doubt or challenge after getting to know me is my intense personal shyness. Over the years I have learned to control the terror I feel when I walk into a room of strangers – and even more so a room full of people I know. With age has come a certain comfort in my own skin. I’m not going to get better looking without tons of plastic surgery. I’m not going to be taller without stilts.

Because of my shyness, I am comfortable being on line and discovered that I will chat with people I would not otherwise talk to. I will email a stranger or comment on a blog. I’m safe and far away. I write this blog and know some friends and family will read it, but mostly it is strangers and that anonymity is good.

Last night, however, I took a personal step and attended a blogger gathering in New York hosted by the lovely, sweet, and hysterically funny Curly McDimple. More bloggers gathered than I expected to meet, but they were all as charming and entertaining as they are in their posts online. I laughed, and groaned along with those in attendance and even swooned over some. I won’t say who I swooned over; just, that since my sex life is mostly solo – I would still be calling out the name I call out the most!

Even if overcoming the shyness was not enough, attending the weenie roast led me to violate two of my major rules: 1) I don’t eat weenies (mentioned in an earlier post) and 2) I don’t eat “bar food.”

1- I’m not much of a meat eater anyway. No moral grounds, I just don’t like it. Nevertheless, the idea of what constitutes the meat pulp that fills the casings of most hot dogs turns me off even more. The wieners being served at Cattyshack appeared more to be thin sausages than hot dogs, so I took the plunge and ate one (and since a Texan cooked it, it was pretty good).

2- I go to bars. I know what happens there. There are wise sayings about what you should not do where you eat. Those things are not necessarily common functions at bars, but close enough. No one else had died (at least among those who lived to attend the weenie roast) of the Cattyshack food, so again I took the plunge and I’m alive to write about it (but I probably won’t make it a habit in Austin).

Of the many bloggers I met, it was a real treat to meet Joe of Joe.My.God, the father (daddy) of all bloggers. After hearing an interview with him on Sirius OutQ, I came home and read his blog then started checking out the bloggers he linked to. Almost every blog I read is within six-degrees of Joe. He is the reason I was in contact with the bloggers attending the weenie roast, so he aptly deserves some credit for my trip to New York.

The real treat of the evening was meeting Southern Boy, his bf, and Lunar Gemini. I have emailed and chatted with Southern and Lunar since December and meeting them felt like picking up a conversation with friends I had not seen in a little while.

In an effort to overcome my shyness as much as I could, I had read the blogs of everyone I knew was coming and I was thrilled to discover that the real people behind the screen are as much fun as the people on the screen. Though we were only together a few hours, I was able to come out of my shell enough and discover some people with whom I could be friends.

I may be making some more weekend trips to New York. Now someone just has to throw open their couch.

Gay Dilemma 101

The closer the trip to meeting some fellow bloggers gets, the more anal I get about it. Today I double checked the list to make sure I was up-to-date on reading all the blogs so I could engage each person there in intelligent conversation.

Ok, so I’m a bit stalkish obsessive.

But at a blogger gathering, the last thing I want to say is, “What? You’re a blogger?”

I really want to say things like, “That was a very insightful review of Gypsy you had.” Or “I’m so glad the new job is going well,” or “Wow. Carrie poster. Scary.”

And I’m from Texas going to hang with the New Yorkers.

Austin may be the best city in the nation, but we are not exactly known for our style. If you can get it at a second-hand shop, it’s perfect.

I’m afraid that won’t work in New York.

My greatest dilemma is choosing footware. My choices are: cowboy boots or flip-flops. I may have a closet full of clothes (ultimately that is what forced me “out” I couldn’t live in there with so many clothes). I’m really a flip-flop kind of guy – I even wear them to church, but when I was last in New York in 1991, cowboy boots came in very handy for the walking I did – contrary to popular belief – well-fitting cowboy boots are the most comfortable footware I’ve ever had.

To resolve the dilemma, I emailed the bar where we are all meeting. They were no help whatsoever: Anything you're comfy in! Tshirt jeans, dress, flip flops, ball gown--whatever! That's how we do it! Just be SURE to have your ID with you. Cheers!

I’m 40 – ID should not be too much of an issue.

So I’m still left to decide – do I wear boots or flip-flops? Get the inch boost from the boots or go as my pocket-queer me in flip-flops. New York – be on the lookout for visitor with mismatched footware.

Class Reunion

Literature, movies, and water-cooler chat often paint the picture of class reunions as being stodgy, show-offy affairs.

I’m proud to say my class reunion was anything but a stodgy affair. In fact, one of the biggest Baptists brought two kegs of beer! I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun with people from my hometown – it was certainly better than high school!

The vision of 20+ years is amazing.

One conversation I had with some of my classmates centered on the idea that almost all of us went to school together from first grade until graduation. I was looking back over the class list and realized that over 60 of the 93 graduates of my class had been in school together since the elementary years. We were not classmates and friends; we were brothers and sisters.

In the moment of growing up in that small community, I had never considered that idea.

Twenty-two years later it seemed very real. There were classmates I rarely talked to. I could talk to any of them at any time; I just didn’t. I liked everyone I went to school with; I just liked some more. I could hang out with any of them most any time; I just hung out with some more.

For all the times I bash growing up in a small town, the older I get, the more I see just how great it was. I could name every single classmate I had. In the schools I work with today, students couldn’t pick their classmates out of a photo lineup.

We on the other hand, knew what everyone did, or didn’t do on Saturday night.

I guess that was kind of like brothers and sisters.

Of course…I was mostly happy because I could still go in skinny-boy-low-rise jeans because I weigh 8 pounds less than I did when I graduated twenty-two years ago!

Enchanted Rock - Rocks

After mentioning "Enchanted Rock" several times in the posts after returning from the hike, I realized my pictures mostly focused on the flora which was unusually abundant this year rather than the rock we went to climb.

Above is the skyward view from inside one of the "caves" formed by large pieces of the rock which have fallen/slid partway down the side of the dome and become lodged together.


The view here looks across the gorge (there is a valley between the two domes of Enchanted Rock). You cannot tell the actual few hundred feet depth between the domes from this angel as it is looking down from the top of the higher dome to the top of the lower one, but there is a canyon (Echo Canyon) between the two. I'm not sure how it earned the name "Echo Canyon" with the abundant stand of Live Oak trees in it.

Over the years, the water has created paths to run down the side of the dome. In a few million years, these may become actual ravines, but as they are now, they are only an inch or less.

Rockslides over the millenia have created piles of boulders at various points down the side of Enchanted Rock with the majority of them all the way at the bottom. Still, it is somewhat amazing how they piled up in such seemingly precarious positions.

More Enchanted Rock

I took almost fifty pictures of our little walk up a granite dome of Enchanted Rock today, so here are some more of the flora.

The bull nettles above are some of the most viscous stinging plants in Texas. They are covered in glass-like spikes that cause severe itching and large red welts if they come in contact with skin. While the bright green leaves and perky white flowers are attractive, the translucent spikes give a clear stay-away warning after you made the mistake once to try to pick a shoot for a display.


The yucca sends up a the long shoot with white flowers above. This one was almost done with it's bloom, so there are only a few flowers at the top of the spike. The leaves are more obviously painful than the bull nettle's, but they are much less harmful and were useful to Native Americans in many ways.

At several points, recesses in the rock have collected enough soil to be fertile grounds in a wet season like we have recently had. And as with many fairly arid regions, the plants take advantage of the moisture to quickly sprout, bloom, and seed. Although surround by solid granite, the oasis above was remarkably lush with grasses, flowers and cacti.

It is well past cactus-blooming-time, but there were still several breaking out in to bud following the rain. Prickly pear often bloom with a beautiful sunshine yellow, but the ones on Enchanted Rock seem to have absorbed some of the red granite and display the orange hue above.


Up close with some of the lushness. No centimeter of fertile ground goes uncovered by some plant.

Enchanted Rock

Sunday afternoon, my friends Clint and Chex invited me to join them on a hike up Enchanted Rock about an hour and a half outside of Austin in the Texas hill country. It is outside a "crafty" town called Fredericksburg. If you ever want tons of German food, good locally brewed beer, or some of the best wine made in Texas, visit Fredericksburg - there are always bed and breakfast places to sleep.


Above is Clint heading up the trail with Enchanted Rock in the background. The hike up the granite slab is a climb of about 325 feet in a remarkably short distance. Because is is dome shaped, it can be rather deceiving - just when you think you are at the top, you take a couple steps and realize there is much farther to go.


We have had an unusually wet May in the hill country, so there are plants one doe not normally expect to see, like ferns growing in every spot a spore could get a grip of some soil. The lichens on the rocks made them some fantastic colors as can be seen in the picture above. Everywhere one turned, there were more little surprises of color and combinations of plants as is seen in the picture below. In it you see a mix of daisies, prickly pear cactus, and fern, as well as some hardy grasses which have sprung up.