Desert Scene

Another gorgeous day lured me out onto the back porch where I painted this desert scene. Bob call his version Southwest Serenity. Mine is more prosaic.

Memorandum: To Whom it may Concern

I have instituted a new policy at the house: Anyone who comes to visit must take a painting when they leave. If the backlog continues, I may require weekly visits from everyone, or everyone to take multiple paintings. How does this affect you, you ask? Well, if you come to visit, you will leave with a painting. I have already informed Sean of the new rule, and since he's been in SC so long, he will have to take three. Maybe four. It depends on how much I paint before he gets here.

If the situation worsens, you will be required to bring a trailer when you visit.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation with this new policy.

The Management

Down to the Pasture

I kept waiting for sunshine yesterday. It never came. This morning I decided to paint come Heck or High Water. Dad suggested the title.

Roger Holt Family Reunion

This post is intended for every member of the Roger Holt family. So listen up!

It's high time we all got together. Everyone! All of Roger's kids. And their kids, and their grandkids, and even their great-grandkids. If I do the math right, that's 38 people.

The question is: Where do we get together? I thought about somewhere in the middle: halfway between Truth or Consesequences, NM, and Fredericksburg, VA. A quick glance at a map puts that somewhere between Little Rock, AR, and Memphis, TN. Ann Holt even suggested on a beach somewhere. Any suggestions?

The next question: When?

Since the reunion would require some driving, flying or hitching, I was thinking that it should last at least two days, and maybe as many as four. Dad has said he wouldn't be able to go until July and he would have to go back to work in the middle of August.

If you have any ideas, please post them in Comments so everyone can see them and discuss.

Deep Forest Pond

One should never tour a sausage factory, because somehow, the sausage won't ever be the same. In the same way, I really shouldn't tell you that the background trees should have been a darker green to separate them from the ones in the foreground.

Springtime Waterfall

All right! Enough of the baby pictures and reunion nonsense! Let's get back to showing off!

Happy Birthday, Cael!

That must be some tasty cake!

Ebb Tide

This is a crappy picture of a crappy picture. All that white in the waves? Doesn't exist in the painting. It exists in the photo, however, because light is reflecting off the weave of the canvas. The lower half of the painting was covered in liquid clear, which tends to have that sheen.

Blue Angel Crash in Beaufort, SC

We heard from Sean this afternoon. He said, "I just wanted to let you know we are all okay." Mom asked him, "Oh, why?" That's when he told us to watch the news. A Blue Angels jet crashed in his neighborhood, setting a house on fire. He said he didn't hear it so much as feel it.

Just wanted to let you know.

Remember them while they are like this. . .

. . . because soon, law enforcement officials will be screaming in frustration, "Them Holt boys!" like Boss Hogg did.

Mountain Sunrise

Well, the weather finally cooperated with me, and I got outside to paint. When I started, I knew I wanted to paint the sky this way, but I didn't know how the bottom would turn out.

Easter in Texas

We don't get snow too often in Fredericksburg. Maybe once every couple of years. When I was a kid, we would pray for snow days, unaware we were putting the length of our summer vacation at risk.

I was a crappy day on April 7. We had rain. We had sleet. And we had two snow flurries. One with teeny tiny flakes around noon, and this one about 4 pm with quarter-sized flakes. The ground was too warm, though, only the sleet stuck.

Attention City of Fredericksburg, Texas

All last year, the neighbor on the back corner has been remodeling his house. It looks pretty good, too. His lot, like ours, is fairly deep, and part of it includes the seasonal creek bed on this block. On the side street is a low water crossing with a flood gauge. About twice a year it rains enough to put water up to two or three feet above the street.

Late last year, the neighbor divided his large lot, and put the part of the lot directly across from the flood gauge up for sale. One of our neighbors protested to the city, complaining that since they couldn't put a permanent structure twenty feet from their fence (which is directly behind our neighbor) how could anyone build a house on that tiny lot? The sign disappeared and we thought no more about it.

In early March, several dozen dump truck loads of red clay were piled on the lot. Now I'm not a builder, but even I knew what was up. Someone was going to raise the level of the lot and start building a house. This time, not only did the person behind the lot call the city to complain, so did the person next to the first neighbor, the person next to him, and the person behind him (who is out neighbor on the other side). The person delivering the dirt said he was told water didn't stand on that lot. And we complained too. A city councilman suggested we call Brian Jordan, a city employee and ask him to look into it. Once the piles of dirt were delivered, work on the lot stopped.

The week before Spring Break, the owner of the lot hired someone to spread the dirt. The person behind the neighbor was told that as long has he left a six foot strip from her property line to the dirt to allow water to drain, he was okay. Everyone on this block (except the neighbor who sold the lot) called the city to complain.

Then it began to rain. It rained the entire week of Spring Break.

This is a photo of the seasonal creek taken during the rain. The white truck you see in the background was a city truck, parked in the deepest part of the low water crossing so they could decide whether or not to put up barricades. (They never do, and everyone with a big truck or SUV drives down our flooded street at 40 mph spraying water ten feet into our front yard.) Now, our back yard usually has water on it after a big rain. This time, the water was a bit deeper:

When I wandered out to take these pictures, the water at the deepest point was one inch over my ankle. Do you know what happens when rain strikes piles of dirt? It washes the dirt away. Here's a photo of the lot that water never stands on. It was taken a few hours after the rain ended:

We called Brian Jordan at the City again, and it is obvious that he has more important things to do than take calls from the public. (And yes, Brian, it was as it sounded, a personal problem. Sorry to have disturbed your busy fucking day. I hope you don't get too angry at the City Councilman who told us to call you. Heaven forbid you do any actual public service.) Allegedly, someone came out and took a look. There were no witnesses to the visit, and no one from the city has called us to tell us what is going on.

Aidan Dallas Holt - 1st photo

His first photo. You know, who needs a photo album anymore? The Internet will keep this photo alive for all time.

Enchanted Rock

I think I'm starting to get the hang of this. . .

Spring on the Pedernales River

I like this scene. It's from a real locale, but stylized a bit. Mom insisted on the birds.

Roger Holt family reunion idea

Last night, as I was watching Bob Ross paint something, I realized that we needed to have a Roger Holt family reunion pretty soon, while all three of Roger's kids are alive. Donn's Parkinson's Disease just rocks along, Ann's cancer seems to be under control, and Dad, well, he's okay, but he's 75.

So the idea is to get all three of them together, with as many of their kids as possible. Since our generation and our kids live in four states, that could be difficult! Maybe we could meet in the middle, somewhere.

Last year, Gary and I decided that since we were the single ones, we would have to be the ones to keep the cousins together as a family, and not let us drift apart. Time to live up to that promise, I think!

Happy Birthday Aidan Dallas Holt

Sean called a little before 1 pm this afternoon and said Aidan was born. More details to come!

Rodney & Jeanne's Babies

Sometimes I don't understand my brother. His and Jeanne's oldest boy, Shawn, is out of the house and in the Navy. Brandon is a junior and will be gone soon. Katie is a Freshman and will be out in just a few years. You'd think the two of them would be rubbing their hands together in anticipation of running around the house naked, but no! They've decided to become foster parents! Right now, they have three kids under 2. Katie has told them that she doesn't "do babies" so Rodney and Jeanne are getting lots of diaper practice. (Brandon has a job, and lucks out that way.)

Mountain Lake

The weather was beautiful today, so I drug out the paint and tried something a little different.

Baby news

I got an email from Sean the other day. Joanne went to the hospital last week thinking the baby was coming, but they eventually sent her home. She's due on April 7. Sean says Aidan Dallas Holt (who I have decided to call "Little D") is stubborn. I think he's warm and he knows it's a cold world out here.

First Snow - Redux

I gave the previous version of this painting to a co-worker who whined that I hadn't given her a painting. But I like this scene, so I painted it again. I'm getting the hang of painting mountains, but I need to work on my trees.

Autumn Glacier

The glacier is shrinking because of Global Warming.

Hill Country Creek

Spring has Sprung

I went with dad to the Hospital today so he could fill out some forms for his cataract surgery on Wednesday. Hanging in the hall was this huge painting of an old German homestead in a field of bluebonnets. I didn't feel brave enough to paint the house, so I painted up the road a bit. You know, right after you turn off the highway and go into the gate. The old limestone house and barn are behind the hill.

This is the kind of stuff I really want to paint: the Hill Country! And I think I've figured out how to do it!

No More Crap Titles - "First Snow"

I like parts of this, and hate other parts. I failed to achieve the effect I was going for. The light dusting of snow in the foreground looks like exposed rock. The pine trees look like their lit from below.

Crap Number 17

I know everyone is tired of me posting these things here. But, I realized a few weeks ago, that the Internet is about the only place I can show off.

So here's another painting.

Crap #16

Another Bob Ross imitation.

Dear Mark Shuttleworth,

I'm not quite ready to abandon Micro$oft. For the last three weeks, I have been living in Ubuntuland, on a second hand machine. I've had some problems:

First, Xsane crashes when I try to use my scanner. i press the scan button and the Xsane window goes away.

I tried to install the recommended firewall on the computer, but everytime I would get to the install screen, i would click the "Next" button and the window would go away.

I tried to use gnomad to manage my Dell DJ. But anytime I tried to add music or ceate a playlist, the window would disappear.

I can see now that a Windows-less existence may be nigh impossible.

I'm not giving up, but for the next couple of weeks, the old Windows machine is back on the desk.

How Psycho is my Boss?

Your Boss Is Not Psycho

Even though you might hate your boss at times, your boss is pretty fair and upstanding. If you're having trouble with your boss, you may just be having trouble with authority in general.

Is Your Boss Psycho?

HowManyOfMe.com

There are: 329 people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

The Movie of My Life Would Be. . .

The Movie Of Your Life Is An Indie Flick

You do things your own way - and it's made for colorful times. Your life hasn't turned out how anyone expected, thank goodness! Your best movie matches: Clerks, Garden State, Napoleon Dynamite

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

An Important Announcement

I have called this press conference to put some rumors to rest. I will read a short statement and I will take no questions.

I wish to announce that there is no freaking way I am the father of Anna Nichole's baby. I did not have sexual relations with that woman. I may b e one of the few who didn't, but I didn't.

Thank you. That is all.

Crap Number 15

My aunt, Ann, asked for a windmill painting.

Geez. I haven't even master trees, yet! So I thought I would try to paint a windmill.

I think I should stick to mud puddles.

Breaking-Up isn't so hard to do, girls break up with me all the time!

Dear Bill Gates,

Bill (Can I call you Bill? I've given you enough money that I feel like you should at least be on a first name basis with me.), I hate to break this to you, but I won't be upgrading to Vista. In fact, soon I will be leaving the all-embracing arms of Micro$oft, and I wanted to tell you, because you're like a friend to me.

You need too much space, Bill. Every Windoze upgrade requires more space on my hard drive than the last one. Vista needs 20Gb of hard drive space. My first computer had a 4 Mb hard drive, and I never thought I would fill it. But now you need a drive that's 500 times bigger than my first one? Well, that's just greedy, Bill.

Then there are the demands for money. More and more money. To Install Vista, I should upgrade my processor, increase my RAM and add a video card. Bill, for that amount of money, I can buy a new computer.

But what hurts the most, Bill, is your lack of trust. You simply cannot bring yourself to believe that I am an honest customer. Every time you force a badly needed security update on me, you make a point of telling me you are making sure my copy of Windoze is legal. I had to prove the copy was legal when I installed it, and you made my computer call Micro$oft HQ with my information! So sometime between the installation and update, you seem to believe that I have scrapped my legal copy of Windoze and replaced it with a pirated copy. And Vista will only let me change hardware a handful of times before I have to buy another copy. What if my new processor is defective? I have memory card problems? Tough, you say. Buy another copy, and make the check out to cash.

And not only do you believe I'm a software pirate, you believe I am a music and movie pirate, and have packed Vista with all sorts of watchdog software that will disable my system at a moments notice if it believes I'm using illegal files! No trial. No "We need to talk." You'll just disable my system.

So, as you can see, Bill, it's not me. It's you.

I'm dual booting, Bill.

I know. I know. It is unfaithful of me to treat you in this manner, but Mark Shuttleworth doesn't treat me like a criminal. He welcomes me into the arms of Ubuntu with a smile, and not a bludgeon. He's not asking me to change, Bill. He accepts my computer for what it is--older but not yet ready for the scrap heap; not ready to be dumped for the latest hi-speed processing floozie from a corporate shill or yours.

We can still be friends, Bill. At least until the end of XP's support cycle, the second Tuesday in April 2009. Then I'll be letting Ubuntu move in with me.

You have a year, Bill. Let's make the most of it.

Jeff

Sometimes I say to myself, "Self, your amazing!"

I got this old computer from the office. A 1.7gHz, 40 GB HD , 256 MB RAM, computer that we are updating in anticipation of eventually migrating to Vista.

I want to make it a PVR. So, I replace the CD-ROM with a dual layer DVD burner, put in a wireless card, and a TV tuner. I added a 250 GB hard drive as a slave, but I can't get Windows to see it. So I make the big hard drive the master, and leave the 40GB unconnected. I try to install Ubuntu. When it comes time to reboot, I get an error 18. WTF? Turns out, the BIOS won't support the big hard drive.

Cursing, I shut down, reconnect the Windoze HD, and run Belarc Advisor to get the motherboard info. I go to Intel (on my computer in the house, I do this sort of stuff in the work shop out back) to get a bios update, make a bootable floppy, and go back out to reboot the computer. It updates the BIOS. I unplug the Windows HD, reconnect the big hard drive and reboot.

UBUNTU FINISHES THE INSTALL, AND IT SHOWS 215 GB FREE!!

The next step: Try to configure MythTV and actually get it to work. Before I do that, I need to make sure the wireless card can get to the Internet and find a place to put it.

Which Science Fiction Author are you?

I am: Arthur C. Clarke Well known for nonfiction science writing and for early promotion of the effort toward space travel, his fiction was often grand and visionary.

Which science fiction writer are you?

Another painting!

Yeah. I'm sick of seeing these too.

Yet another attempt

After two weeks of cold weather, it was 60-some degrees Sunday afternoon. So I broke out the paint and played around a bit. Once more, I tried to paint the Pedernales River again. This time I wanted to work on the cloud and make it a bit more noticeable than in the previous attempt. I also made the dead tree a bit bigger. I even stuck a distant hill in the background. One of these days, I'm gonna get this right.

My accent

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Midland   "You have a Midland accent" is just another way of saying "you don't have an accent." You probably are from the Midland (Pennsylvania, southern Ohio, southern Indiana, southern Illinois, and Missouri) but then for all we know you could be from Florida or Charleston or one of those big southern cities like Atlanta or Dallas. You have a good voice for TV and radio.
The South
The Inland North
The West
The Northeast
Philadelphia
Boston
North Central
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Digital Art

I tried painting this scene with oil paint, but didn't quite make it happen. So today I tried it in Photoshop.

Crap Number 12

More Bob Ross Wet-On-Wet action today. I thought I would try another mountain scene. I saw Bob Ross paint this and thought it was pretty. What do you think?

Which Superhero are you?

Your results:
You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 85% Hulk 70% Superman 70% Green Lantern 65% Supergirl 62% Iron Man 60% Robin 50% Catwoman 50% Wonder Woman 42% The Flash 40% Batman 35%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

There's this one particular harbor

I like parts of this painting better than the last version. I like parts of the other one better. Maybe I could somehow combine the two. . .

More smeared paint

Someone suggested I try painting from a photo. And I had the photo of the Pedernales River, so I thought I would try that scene. I want to, eventually, paint more Texas type scenes.

I can tell you that I kinda like this. I hate the background. To dark, and too splotchy. I like the midground. I screwed up the sky. There should have been more clouds, but once the paint starts flyin' . . . And, I think I have figured out how to do bluebonnets. Unfortunately it was too late for this one.

So here's the original photo and my interpretation of it.

Someone has also suggested that I open a tent somewhere to sell these, to which I respond, "Can I learn to paint first?"

Where do YOU want to be today?

The inspiration:

Boat Drinks
Jimmy Buffett

Boat drinks
Boys in the band ordered boat drinks
Visitors scored on the home rink
Everything seems to be wrong

Lately, newspaper mentioned cheap air fare
I gotta to fly to saint somewhere
I'm close to bodily harm

Twenty degrees and the hockey games on
Nobody cares they are way too far gone
Screaming boat drinks, something to keep em all warm

This morning, I shot six holes in my freezer
I think I got cabin fever
Somebody sound the alarm

I'd like to go where the pace of life's slow
Could you beam me somewhere, Mr. Scott?
Any ol' place here on earth or in space
You pick the century and Ill pick the spot

Oh I know, (I know)
I should be leaving this climate
I got a verse but can't rhyme it
I gotta go where its warm

Boat drinks
Waitress I need two more boat drinks
Then I'm heading south fore my dream shrinks

I gotta go where its warm (I gotta go where its warm)
I gotta go where its warm (I gotta go where its warm)
I gotta go where its warm!

I gotta go where there ain't any snow
Where there ain't any blow
cause my fin sinks so low
I gotta go where its warm

Our Thanksgiving

This year, I suggested we try Alton Brown's Honey Brined Smoked Turkey Recipe for our bird.

It was FANTASTIC! We gave some to our neighbor, who told us later that she would buy us two turkeys if we would smoke both of them and give her one.

We boned the turkey and put it in a serving dish. Brandon filled his plate, and ate some and asked if we had ham too. When we told him that it was turkey, he said it was the best turkey he'd ever had. That's high praise coming from Brandon. He's a bit of a picky eater.

Rodney and Jeanne brought Katie and Brandon down, as if you couldn't tell, and we all had a great time. Katie even got up early to go to Wal-Mart for their Black Friday sale. And if you know Katie, she don't get up until the sun goes down!

Another painting

Yes, I know this is boring. I keep painting the same things! This one is a little different.

So, I watched Bob Ross on DVD and thought I'd try this painting again.

My previous attempt of this scene (Crap #4) was not as successful as I'd hoped. On #4, the background was okay (I could improve on the sky but the mountain rocked), the midground was kinda ehhh! (Nature does not work in even numbers. I learned that in ikebana class at Nagasaki Weslyan Junior College (now University) in 1984. (And, yes, I was pretty good at Japanese flower arranging, thank you very much. It was my favorite culture class. Thank God, Allah, Vishnu or The Flying Spaghetti Monster I didn't try to pick that up again! Fresh flowers every week? Oh! the humanity! And the $$$.....) The foreground, well, doesn't exist.

So in #8, I tried to create a foreground. I should have made the trees on the right bigger, and those on the left smaller. I should have made the land in the foreground extend more to the left. And, I should have had more highlights. But Rodney, my brother, was watching, and imitating Bob Ross, and I spent most of my time trying to paint and looking over my shoulder saying, "You want to paint this m*th*rf*ck*r!?" (Never paint with an audience. It never works. The forked path? That was Mom's idea. It's supposed to be a rock...)

Crap No. 7

Yet more paint smeared on canvas. I have to confess, however, that the glow across the painting is sunlight on the canvas.

You ever have an idea get away from you?

I had a definite idea in mind when I started this painting. Unfortunately, by the time I finished, I had forgotten what it was. And as I finished, I thought, "This sucks." But as it has been sitting around drying, it's growing on me. What do you think?

Yeah, I did it again

More paint smeared on canvas!

Crap Number 4

Monday was such a nice day, I thought I'd smear some paint onto a canvas.

I spent the morning watching the last series of "The Joy of Painting" by Bob Ross and picked up some tips. I'm still going to have to take a class, though. There are things I just can't seem to get.

Making Strides Against Breast Cancer five mile walk

My aunt, Ann Holt, is a breast cancer survivor. She is participating in a five mile walk to raise money for breast cancer research. My other Aunt Ann is also a breast cancer survivor. My late Aunt Sue survived breast cancer to die of bone cancer earlier this year. My late Aunt Johnnie passed away from cancer last year. That's why I have made a donation to support Aunt Ann in her five-mile walk. If you aren't contributing to someone you love, please consider supporting Ann P Holt. Thanks.

This is going to be harder than I thought

Here's today's painting. I tried to do it like the Hill Country Scene I posted the other day, but I missed my target. My vision of the painting slipped away.

Actually, I am somewhat happy with this one. The sky is lighter, but I am still having problems with clouds. The rolling hills turned out okay, and so did the tree on the left. The less said about the tree on the right, the better! The water is okay, but the grass land needs work.

I might try again tomorrow, but I need to master one thing at a time. I might try to do a sky with a cloud and a mountain. I bought some canvas boards for that purpose.

I hate to disappoint

This is the spot that today I would have revealed my latest painting. But it's been raining since Saturday. Maybe and I can squeeze it in tomorrow, when it's supposed to clear.

I had the oddest dream last night. I dreamt that my best friend, Ben Affleck, had come to town after losing out on the James Bond role. We hung out at the local ten story hotel called Corner Cottage, and watched them start filming before I left to go home. Um, Dr. Freud. . . ?

An idea for a painting

I went into a hotel in town and saw a painting similar to this and thought I should try it. Just because I haven't mastered Bob Ross' Wet on Wet technique (cf crap 1 and crap 2), doesn't mean I shouldn't try!

How a Comic Strip is Created

I am primarily a cartoonist, and have always been fascinated by the process of creating a comic book or comic strip. Here's a link to the official "For Better Or For Worse" site, and their process for creating each day's strip. Interesting reading.

Crap Number 2

Remember that part about "the second one will be better"?

Well, not so much.

Is this about me?

The First Masterpiece

My first painting! I call it "Crap No. 1". Don't get me wrong, I don't think it's hideous. I think it's my first one. The second one will be better. And the third one, and the fourth one. Even though I call this "Crap No. 1," I'm still proud of it."

Braedon Gordon Earl Holt

Steve and Rachel are the proud parents of Braedon Gordon Earl Holt; born 9/24/06.

Welcome to the family!

Dude, WTF?

I was leaving Kerrville today, and was following a slow moving Hummer through the construction zone, when they turned into Dollar General.

Why would someone who can afford a Hummer and and the gas to put in a Hummer be doing at a dollar store?

Five Years Ago Today

Tuesday September 11, 2001

At about 10 am, the flight attendants began picking up our
drinks only a few minutes after giving them to us. The flight had been routine
until the co-pilot came on and announced that because of something bad happening
"back east," our flight would be diverted to Birmingham, Alabama.

Birmingham?

I pulled out a set of jet flight maps and started looking
at where Birmingham was in relationship to home. (In retrospect, that may
not have been the smartest move I could have made. The gentleman sitting next
to me probably reported a fat man with a beard checking maps in-flight.)

The passengers spent the next half hour or so sitting straight
up, wondering what the hell had happened back east. Until we got to the gate,
we were pretty much in the dark. One of the flight attendants boarded the
plane and told us what happened. She told us to deplane, that we would not
be leaving today.

On the way to baggage claim, a security guard was waving
people off the concourse and into the terminal like a traffic cop. A guy walking
beside me veered into a bar that had a TV on. I started to follow, but she
waved me on, "Let's go! Everyone into the terminal!" As I passed the bar,
I could see several dozen people crowded around a TV mounted on the wall,
transfixed by the flickering images.

It was like a campfire. This one glowing box, transfixed
everyone in the bar, shining light onto their faces, and the shadows on their
backs blending into one wide, dark mass.

I turned on my cell phone, and was surprised to find a voice
mail from the office wondering where I was and if I was okay. I tried to call
and see what the heck was going on, but all I could get was a message that
said the Sprint network is busy and that I should try again later.

I got both my bags off the carousel, sat down and tried to
figure out what I needed to do. I managed to call Donn and got his answering
machine and told him where I was. (Until Friday, I was never able to get through
to Donn again.) I called home and talked to Dad. I tried calling Steve's cell
phone, but the line was busy. I called Rodney and Jeanne. I called the office.
I called Mom at work. I called everyone I could think of. Everyone said, "Just
hang tight." So I went off to see the folks at Southwest Airlines.

The gal behind the Southwest counter looked frazzled. All
she could say is, "I don't know," when I asked what the odds were I would
be leaving the next day. She gave me a voucher for a Best Western Suites,
and told me that the pick-up point was across from the baggage claim.

Great!

Baggage claim was at the far end of the terminal from the
Southwest counter. I had navigated through a throng of addled and confused
passengers, and a very visible, and very nervous, police presence to get to
here. That included toting the photon torpedo case full of golf clubs up the
escalator.

So, back down the escalator to wait for the van to the motel.
Meanwhile I passed the rental car folks. They looked like a grocery store
at 5 pm on the day before Thanksgiving, and, as a sure sign of the coming
Apocalypse, everyone had a cell phone in their ear.

I found the van that took me to the Best Western hotel. A
harried, blonde haired guy with authentic Southern accent drove the 15 of
us dazed travelers to the hotel. Shortly after we got onto the Interstate,
my cell phone rang. Gary's voice said, "Oh, man! I am glad your home!"

"No, I'm in Birmingham."

"That sucks."

"Amen, cousin."

After we chatted a moment, we pulled into the hotel. Hotel?
This place looked like an apartment complex. I was seventh or so in line,
and they checked me in. The clerk pulled out a map, and said, "Walk out the
front door, go left, walk to the top of the hill and turn right. You're on
the third floor. Next!"

I gestured dramatically to the photon torpedo tube, and my
waistline, hoping to convince the guy that the cost of my imminent coronary
was worth, at least, a second floor room. No dice. He was already telling
a couple of ladies from Houston (we had chatted on the van) they were on the
second floor.

"Bar?" I whispered to a frantically rushing hotel employee
who was headed for the front desk. Our driver had already waved goodbye and
said, "I'm going back to the airport!"

The young lady stopped in midstride. Apparently concerned
with my torpedo tup to waistline display earlier, she asked, "Sir?"

"Where's the bar?"

She brightened quickly, stood straight up and pointed. "Over
there, sir!"

It was a four foot bar you would find in someone's basement,
complete with two beer taps and three bottles of booze on a small cabinet
with a sink behind it.

"It opens at 6 pm, sir!" She said, and then turned and went
behind the front desk to help check everyone in. It was 11 am. At this point,
liquor was not an option.

By the time I lugged everything to the top of the hill and
up three flights of stairs, everything I was wearing was damp with sweat,
and I sounded like Darth Vader. ("*huff* Luke. *huff* I am your father. *huff*")
I opened the door to my room and found an apartment only slightly smaller
than my last apartment in Austin. I left the photon torpedo tube by the door,
flopped onto the couch and watched TV, huffing and sweating.

I tried calling Steve again, but his phone was busy. I called
Ann Turner and talked to her. I called Mary Jo and talked to her. I called
everyone whose number was on my cell phone.

Here I am, fifteen hundred freakin' miles from home. I am
calling people I haven't talked to in a while, just to hear a familiar voice.
Just to be reassured that I am not alone. Just to know, that if the end of
the world were to come, everyone would know where I was.

I kept trying Steve's cell phone, and got no answer. Then
I remembered that I had programmed his new home number. So I called. Steve
told me that they had evacuated downtown Baltimore near their World Trade
Center. Then Steve paused and said, "They're on the fucking ground, man. The
towers. They're on the fucking ground."

You want a title for this piece? That sounds like a good
one to me.

I paced the hotel/apartment, calling people, using my minutes.
(Travel lesson #1: Get a cell phone with free nationwide long distance. Take
it with you everywhere you go, and don't forget to take a desktop charger
and a car charger.) Then I got thirsty.

I mentioned that I had to walk uphill to my room. I should
also mention that the hotel was about ? of the way up a big hill. Just at
the bottom was little convenience store. God blessed me that day, my friends.
He did not strand me in a dry county. I walked to the bottom of the hill,
and perused the beer selection.

There were a couple of considerations. It was about noon.
I had about $40 bucks left. And the hotel's restaurant opened about the same
time as the bar. All I had had to eat since I woke up at Steve's apartment
was a couple of bags of Southwest Airlines peanuts. I bought a 12-pack of
Coors and bag of chips. Then I walked back uphill to the hotel. Across the
street was a moderately sized strip mall, with a Wal-Mart.

Now a quote from Bill Bryson:

"? With a pack you walk at a tilt, hunched and pressed forward,
eyes to the ground. You trudge; it is all you can do. Without, you are liberated.
You walk erect. ? You amble. Or at least you do for four blocks. Then you
come to a mad junction at Burger King and discover that the new six-lane road
to Kmart is long, straight, very busy, and entirely without facilities for
pedestrians-no sidewalks, no pedestrian crossings, no central refuges, no
buttons to push for a walk signal at lively intersections."

Sound familiar? Urban sprawl at work. In another book, The
Lost Continent, he describes trying to walk across the driveways of several
fast food restaurants without the benefit of sidewalks. Think about your local
Wal-Mart. How pedestrian friendly is it? See what I mean? I walked uphill,
in the roadside grass almost waist high, until I got back to the office of
the hotel. If you are familiar with apartment complexes, it was kind of like
the complex office.

Back in the room, after another hour or so of Darth Vader
impressions (well, it was a STEEP hill!), I sat down and started drinking
my beer, eating chips and watching the talking heads theorize about Osama
Bin Laden. Finally I found HBO.

I watched two movies. I still can't remember which movies
I watched. My eyes glazed over as I thought about where I was, what I needed
to do. But at least I didn't have to watch the towers fall again.

Finally, I took a shower. Hey! I'd been up and down that
freakin' hill six times. I could not stop sweating. I put on my emergency,
last ditch, set of clothes. (Travel tip#2: Always take one extra set of clothes.
Especially underwear!)

I watched the news a bit more, and decided I was hungry.
I had been told that the restaurant opened at 6 pm. It was a bit after 8,
so I headed downhill to the restaurant.

Six people sat in chairs infront of the bar watching the
news. I went into the restaurant, and found that it was a dining room with
a buffet table at one end. I checked out everything and realized I was too
late. I went back to my room, swearing.

I decided to go to the strip mall to get some fast food.
What strip mall genius only puts one fast food place in a strip mall? All
I could find was a Subway. So I bought a big sandwich (from a clerk who told
me that in Oklahoma gas was $10 a gallon. True, as it turned out, but I poo=pooed
him in my mind.), and headed back to my room. I watched the last bit of "The
Xmen" as I ate my sandwich and went to bed.

For those of you keeping score, yes, I did drink all the
beer.

Oh, Crap! I want another hobby!

On our way back from South Carolina, we stopped in Bryan to visit Dad's Aunt Mallie. It was a nice visit, and for the first time I realized that Mallie was only 10 years older than Dad. Anyway, as we were leaving, Mallie gave us a painting she had done a few years earlier.

A couple of years ago, Mom's Aunt Virginia passed away and Mom brought home a painting she had done. Now I want to learn to paint. Damn!

I have always been a fan of Bob Ross. A decade ago, he was a fixture on the local PBS station, right before the cooking shows. We'd always watch him start with a blank canvas and in 30 minutes have a completed painting. Now that's my kind of painting. Should fit in with my attention deficent problem.

So, I'm going to teach myself to paint. Just what I need. Another hobby.

Radio installation blues

I bought a new radio for my van. The way my finances are going, it could be another year, at least, before I can afford to think about a car. So, I need to replace the old one that doesn't work.

Back in the late 80s, I used to install radios at the drop of a hat. And equalizers. And speakers.

Then I stopped buying radios.

For the last three days I have been working on the preperatory steps. One night I assembled the adapter for my van. One night, I connected the wiring adapter. Tonight, I removed the old radio, and an old add-on thing that hasn't worked in a while. While trying to remove it, I decided to cut the wires. I cut all three wires at the same time and made what Adam Savage of the MythBusters calls the Magic Blue Smoke. However, whenever you make the Magic Blue Smoke, something electronic stops working. Oops.

Well, the radio works, but IT DOESN'T FIT!

Time to walk away. I'll mess with again in the morning.

Argh!

Meadow Farms Golf Course

I think I mentioned I played golf with Steve and John (Staci's husband) last Tuesday. Meadow's Farms is, by far, my favorite course. Unfornately, it is about 1500 miles from my house.

Here's a pretty a picture of their new clubhouse, with John in the foreground.