You probably already know...

If you are reading this, then most likely you know me and won't be surprised that this bit of weirdness is in me. You probably not be alarmed that I think this to be blogworthy, but since this blog really isn't dedicated as a forum for political tirade, religous dogmatism, or NASCAR, I feel safe here sharing the secret that so many people have wondered about. The answer is....

.....yes, I like avocadoes.

Not only that, I really, really like avocadoes in the form of the elusive yet tasty South American sweet spot, aka "avocado milkshake." Yes, I know what your thinking "What the !#$@!"... I too once thought the avocado milkshake (hereafter called "the good stuff") too good to be true. I heard about it from a friend of ours who lives across the lake. She is the same lady who makes popsicles out of Mesquite beans and prickly pears, so how she found out about the good stuff is really just a minor question in the grand scheme of what should be asked for her to explain. Anyway, I like avocadoes and I like milkshakes...a beautiful friendship has been born.

Here's how you do it. You need one small avocado, 7 cubes of ice (approximately 1 cup), 1/4 cup sugar or Splenda, and about 2 cups of milk. It's simple. Put all this in a blender and let the blender do what it does. It should turn a nice shade of green and you should be able to taste the avocado and the sweetener. I like the sugar because it gives a different texture than the Splenda, but Splenda is better for you I think. Give it a try; you'll either love it or hate it. One way or the other, at least you'll have a story about the time to had an avocado milkshake.

Enjoy the good stuff. Cheers.

Road Trip..again

Tomorrow is Sunday, and it looks like I'll be traveling on my birthday. Just kidding it's not my birthday. That happy occasion is on March 28th (for anybody who was wondering when to buy me that Starbuck's gift card) Seriously though, I'm headed to Arlington for a quick visit with some old friends at a conference. We'll be stopping in Austin for a Mute Math concert. It should raise my cool points to say that I went, but I really haven't heard much of their music. I'll let you know how it goes. We'll be back on camp Tuesday for a fun filled week of budget and program planning, mowing, and hopefully...fishing...did I mention I've been fishing a good bit lately.

On to other items of interest, it seems as if we are beginning to experience Winter in South Texas. "Winter" being defined as any one of the days between October and March when the temperature dips below 74 degrees during any part of the daylight hours. Apparently, it doesn't matter if it gets up to 93 degrees at any other part of the day...Winter is here. To celebrate the season, I wore jeans to work for the first time in a long while. Of course, I eventually got too hot in them and had to change into shorts and flip flops. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining...I'm just sayin'. I'm actually looking forward to a mild "winter". Last year my head was cold all the time when I had my hair cut short, so maybe this year the short haircut can come back with no reservations.

In case you're wondering, I have no real reason for this blog just yet. I'll let you know when I think of one. Until then, we'll all just have to suffer through.

Peace.

There is an old proverb...

....."Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed."

This week has been unusual. I woke up Monday morning in Tyler, TX, drank a Red Bull and about9 hours later I was in South Texas. I'm not sure about all the in-between stuff, but I assume that I somehow packed the car, drove 7 hours and stopped a couple of times to ward off boredom.

Tuesday, I sat with important people and talked about important things and tried to make sure I sounded like I knew what I was talking about. It reminded me a lot of working in higher ed, except none of us were dressed as nicely as we did at the university...and there wasn't a coffee shop 30 yards from my office...and instead of a boardroom on the 3rd floor, this week we met in a barbeque joint across the interstate from a large refinery (it's funny, where important people like to eat...)

...forgive the digression.

After that meeting, I have been busy. Thinking, praying, reasoning, calculating, writing, and talking...talking to smart people who might help me best navigate the challenge that has been put before me. When I say smart people, I really mean visionaries who have accomplished much in their careers and lives....presidents, professors, CEO's, chairpeople, directors and the like. I'm doing this not because I trust these people without regard to my own intellect or deisres, but rather that I don't trust my own intellect and desires sometimes. I want to make sure that my ambition doesn't run away with my integrity or my sanity....I love both and would hate to be without them.

One thing I realized is that these intelligent visionary types are rather accessible. Most of the time, they were at the end of an extension that I could get off the internet. The ones that weren't there were within email range....and all of them agreed to talk again if I needed any more help or advice.

To quote a friend "I love being the dumbest person in the room."

"What kind of parade is that?!"

That was the quote of the day for me. One of my friends who moved back to Diboll from New Orleans a few months after Hurricane Katrina and his daughter, who had never been to a Diboll Day parade before, were there. She was pretty excited about the parade. Being from New Orleans, she understands parades quite well...floats, candy, beads, scrambling to collect said bounty and an overall festive atmosphere. When she found out that this parade no longer threw candy for "safety reasons" or something like that, she was...well...confused. But being a generally good natured type, she went along anyway thinking maybe some real parade action might be found. Alas, the young one was yet more confused and disappointed.

You see, where the Crescent City parade might have had an eighteen wheeler pulling a flatbed trailer with streamers, crepe paper, elaborate expensive decorations, masks, beads and jazz; the Home of Fighting Diboll Lumberjacks also had an eighteen wheeler pulling a flatbed trailer...

That's it. Just the trailer.

Oh yeah. It's loaded with wood too. Talk about action.

You might think I'm kidding or perhaps employing my gift for hyperbole, but no...in fact, I knew no one (at least no one who hadn't been to Diboll Day) would believe me, so I brought proof.

I have other pics too, but they are just too painful and although loaded with great blog material, I think I'll keep them under wraps for now.

On other news: April, Charles, Jennifer, Chris, Karen, Daniel, John, Erin, Andrea, and April went out to eat with us Saturday night, and we had a blast. It was great to see my friends. It made me realize even more that I have been truly fortunate and blessed with the caliber and quantity of sincere yet gregarious people I have in my life. From high school to college and throughout my career/s, the same type of people keep showing up, but my first thanks would have to go to these people who knew me during the primer years of life and who didn't make too much sport of the bad haircuts, clothing disasters or the myriad idiotic mistakes I made while trying date. This group of sawmill town malcontents taught me a lot about life and set the proverbial bar high for others who would enter later to help finish what they started. It was good to catch up.

Diboll Day 2006. Put it down in the books. See you in two years.

The Cradle of Life

South Texas will have to make it a few days without me...I am home. Not the "home is where you hang your hat" kind of home, and not the romantic "I'm at home wherever she is" kind of home.....it's more like the "I grew up in this house, fought with my sister, climbed that tree, broke that window, crashed here from college, cried after funerals, watched hours of TV, read all these nerdy books, and love these people" kind of home. You can't ever replace that sort. It's always that same unexciting and quirky place that will captivate your memories of the way things should be.

I guess I'm always a little nervous about seeing all the people I grew up with. Our lives are so different now. I'm reminded of a Pierce Pettis song "Little River Canyon"

"Some left for college, some could only dream
I see em hanging around town, still wearing their high school rings
I avoid their faces when I come to town
Man, I still don't know which one of us has let the other down"

We'll see how it goes.

Goodnight Diboll.

Road Trip

Tomorrow I leave for Diboll. That's right. It's the first Saturday of October during an even numbered year and the winter solstice is approximately 75 days aways...it's Diboll Day time! The time of every other year when the townfolk of my humble hometown invite the area twirling squads, marching bands and and auntique car drivers to fill Loop 210 with festive delight as they dance, march and drive in what is the culmination of weeks and months of preparation. I used to think that it was mandatory wayward Dibollians return home for this event, which was the highlight of my 1st, 3rd, 5th, 7th, 9, and 11th grade years in school. (They were all the same so I count them as one highlight that just stopped and started a lot). Turns out that is isn't mandatory, but one had better have a tremendously important excuse or afool proof alibi if they intend to skip out on this ritual. Since I have neither this year and since I was in need of a good reason to take off from work, I will be in attendance this year. I'll write more later, but for now...just sit here for a while and feel the excitement.

It figures...it really figures

Couldn't things just go right? Couldn't my reality just every so often match up with what my mind sees it as? Apparently, if it is to happen, it is not to happen today. I had it in my mind that we would take an evening drive down by the lake. (We live on the western shore of Lake Corpus Christi so we get great moonrises some times.) Nothing really complicated about the drive, although we did get to use the 4 wheel drive low gear to get up and down some hills. We were just going to drive down the Earl's Cove, (so named for a previous maintenance man who would slip away to go fishing there as often as he could), and sit and talk as the lights went out on the day. So we're sitting there and I see that just a bit further towards the lake, there is a cool point that is really right on the water. I even get out to survey the situation:

So to myself I'm thinking,

"Can I make this?"
"Sure you can make this, this is a 4 wheel drive vehicle and it's perfect evening. Go for it."
"OK, thanks, I'm going for it."

I walked back to the FJ40, hopped up into the driver's seat and told Kristie that we were going over there. She looked a little unsure, but I had confidence for both of us and she sensed that and relaxed a bit. After all, I was the man. It was perfect evening. Let's go for it.

I made it...about 10 yards...then my back tire sunk into the soft sandy soil that was once the lake bottom (the lake is down about 10 feet). Yes, I tried all the usual tricks, but the truth is...my reality tonight is...that the FJ40 is standing guard, waiting for the sunrise, down at Earl's Cove in that exact spot.

Why am I always surprised when things go a little askew? I mean it happens everyday...you would think I would be a bit more ready of these rare opportunities. Kristie had the right attitude though. As we raced the fading light the half mile back to our house through swarms of gnats and other unidentified flying insects, I think she noticed my consternation and tried to put me at ease, "Hey, it's ok. It's an adventure."

Simply put. Well said. Here's to the adventure.

Old People

I've met some people lately who've been around a while. All sorts of clever and politically correct terms could be used here in order that we might not say that they are old...but they are...old, that is. We are currently hosting a conference for senior adults (the aforementioned old people). If that wasn't curious enough, we even have one WWII vet here who is somewhere in the neighborhood of 90. This guy was a pilot, was in his early fifties when I was born, has been married to the same woman for what?...60 years?...and has been coming to this conference for probably 20 years. Did I mention he's always asking the female staff what they're doing later? It's pretty hilarious to hear about him asking who they came with and if they need a ride home....yeah, his wife is here...player.

Just in case anybody reads this...

...I'll tell you about my day. Started out slow as there was no Red Bull in the house. When I got to work, an extremely large hot cup of coffee got things on track. (By the way, you should know that I have a caffeine addiction...and I don't really trust non-caffeine addicts.)

The big news (just so you'll see how little my news is) of the day is that I put a new gas filter on my Landcruiser. It was really horrible riding in this tank-like beast with gas fumes wafting in through the space on either side of the stick shift lever....and maybe some small rust holes in the floorboard. I couldn't tell whether it was an exhaust problem or just and issue with the gas line...turns out it was the cheaper of the two. I put it on tonight after work and went for a quick spin around camp. No noxious fumes. Great!

Only slightly less significant only because it hasn't happened at all is that i have had an overwhelming urge to study Calculus. I know...I know..."Why would anyone want to do that?" I really have no idea. I saw a book in Barnes and Noble last week which put Calculus into a new, more real-life friendly setting and I thought "I should give Cal a second chance." It has been about 13 years since I last studied Calculus, but surely it can't go away. All that blood sweat and tears should amount to something. Who knows?

And finally, I spent a litttle time today building an Access database for work. Nothing fancy...just a small tool to help me make contracts for groups more easily. It reminded me a lot of working at UT Tyler and the days on end that I would lock myself in my cubicle and work on a db for my event registrations. What a monster that was! If anybody needs a registration database, let me know. I'll be glad to share what I have, but don't even think about asking me to work on it. I'm retired.

If anybody needs me, I''l be finding derivatives and limits.

Today was a normal day

If there is such a thing as a normal day...today was it. Since I work at a camp...you know...where people come to get away from it all, renew relationships with God and with each other...since I work at a place like that, a day really shouldn't be normal without a healthy dose of serving food or washing dishes, which I did. By 9:30, I had done more manual labor than some people do all week, but that's really no big deal or anything to be proud about...it's normal life for me.

Around noon, the wife and I left for church in Corpus Christi, TX. We live about an hour from Corpus, but there really aren't any churches nearby that I would attend on a regular basis at this point. It's cool though..we make a day of it. We see friends, eat out, go by cool stores and just hang out together and be normal. It's nice.

We made it home around 6, played with the dog and then went for drive in the 1972 Toyota Landcruiser that I recently acquired. All of it, including the stunning south texas sunset, was normal.

Tonight I decided to blog. Not normal, but maybe it will be soon. Once I decide what I want to ramble about, I'll begin in earnest. Who knows? I could blog about the Landcruiser restoration...my misadventures as a outdoorsman of sorts, the camp antics that will soon ensue or maybe something totally new. We'll see, but hopefully it will be fun the whole time.