You Think You're Bored?  Reading This May Help . . .

Yesterday I hit what I'm hoping will be my worst virus hostage day.  Here's what I did during the day, with all the details I'm sure you are looking forward to.  Reading this will probably make you feel better about yourself.

8:14 AM - When I retired back in 2017 I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't turn into one of those lazy old guys who slept late and then wandered around his house all day wondering what do to.  With that in mind, I decided that I would get out of bed each morning no later than 7:00 AM.  I held myself to that rule until recently.  Why get up early when there is nothing on your agenda for the day.  So now I basically lay in bed for an hour or so every morning before I get up to face another busy day.

8:15 AM - Logged on to the internet to check the news.  After skipping the first 87 stories about the virus, written from every conceivable angle - and designed to seemingly inflict as much panic as possible - I switched over to sports-related articles.  Unfortunately, reading sports-related articles when there are no actual sports going on is even more boring than reading about ways to conserve toilet paper.

8:27 AM - Had a hearty bowl of Corn Chex for breakfast.  Until very recently I thought that Corn Chex were not even manufactured any more.  However, with the potentially starving masses snapping up all the good cereal, this was the only variety still available when Vicki last braved the grocery store,

8:38 AM - Vicki and I had a conversation about potentially starting to conserve items that may possibly remain in short supply during the consumer panic.  We are seemingly good for up to two months on the toilet paper front, which is wonderful news.  However, what we may be in danger of exhausting is our current supply of deodorant.  With that in mind we made the decision to begin cutting back.  I suggested that we double our timeline by using it under the left arm on even numbered days, and the right arm on odd numbered days.  My suggestion is being taken under advisement, but is not expected to be approved.

9:15 AM - Entered the breakfast room and picked up my work on putting together the Old Candy Store one-thousand piece puzzle.  Puzzle-working is a great activity in which to engage during hostage situations in which you are the hostage.  Puzzles offer the perfect combination of identifying a challenge, overcoming adversity while addressing the challenge, and feeling a rush of accomplishment upon overcoming the challenge.  We actually started working on the Candy Store a couple days ago, but I decided today was the day to really ramp things up.  Challenges that were met and overcome during the puzzle session:

• Developed a successful technique for sitting in my chair sideways so as to minimize the glare on the puzzle pieces.
• Realized that putting my head down on the table to take a short nap resulted in waking up with multiple indentions on my forehead.
• After three hours managed to locate the left eye of the kid with the lollipop.
• After five hours managed to locate the front legs of the German shepherd in the background out the window of the store.  The candy store apparently was not in Austin, or the German shepherd would have been in the store.
• After eleven hours Vicki finally located the old lady's right eye.
• We were about to call the day a total success until we realized that there was one puzzle piece missing (!) which denied us the true satisfaction of finalizing a job well done.

8:15 PM - We watched a taped episode of Dateline, in which a guy in Toledo was accused of killing a drunk girl he picked up in a bar back in 1983.  He was actually convicted, but ultimately freed after a successful appeal.  What was notable about this event - other than the jury that had convicted him must has slept through the "innocent until PROVEN guilty" lecture in Law 101 - was that everyone associated with the case looked like the people who work the carnival rides at the county fair.

10:15 PM - Watched a Ken Burns documentary on the Vietnam war until midnight.  This made the current misery seem a lot less miserable.

Upon getting ready for bed I noticed that I was actually already ready for bed.  For the first time since the onset of the panic I realized that I was still in the gym shorts and tee shirt I had slept in the night before.  I vowed to never let that happen again, and this morning I felt good about myself, when upon rising from a good night's sleep - no doubt brought about by a hard day of puzzle working - I immediate changed into a different pair of gym shorts.  However, this action did raise a question in my mind that I have been thinking about all day.  When will I every wear long pants again?

Back in the Saddle Again

I'm Back! (?)

I'm having some difficulty getting back into my blog, but I'm hoping this will work.  This is just a test posting, so don't expect the usual fascinating content that you were used to when I suspended operations five years ago.

I thought I'd resurrect my blog because I seem to have quite a bit of time on my hands just now.  I retired three years ago, so it's not like I was exactly living with an overloaded schedule, but now that the virus panic is in full swing I have more down time than I know what to do with.  Yesterday I actually washed my truck - not by driving it through the car wash at the gas station - but the old fashioned way, out in the driveway using a hose and a bucket!  It was also raining at the time, which proves how hungry I was to do something - anything!

Keeping with the "let's do something - anything!" theme, Vicki and I spent this past Wednesday cleaning out our attic.  Now although this may not sound exciting, it actual was - in a weird sort of way.  When we moved into this house fourteen years ago we put lots of stuff in the attic, a good portion of which had previously resided in the attic of the house from which we had moved, and a fair portion of that in the attic of the house from which we had moved before that.  So, much of what was in the attic was actually living in its third attic.  We had two primary motivations for the big clean out.  First, if we ever move again we don't want to tote anymore worthless stuff along with us than necessary.  Second, we thought we'd do our kids a big favor and spare them the task of culling the junk when we die (we don't anticipate that our deaths are eminent, but there is a virus thing going around you know).  I'll spare you all the exciting details, but the glee of having a now almost empty attic is strangely satisfying.  I actually went up there yesterday, just to sit in the space now shared with only camping equipment and a few Christmas decorations.

My next project is to teach my grand kids what in the past were referred to as "math facts".  As with all things virus, they also have extra time on their hands now that school has been cancelled for the foreseeable future.  For those of you who are not familiar with the term "math facts", it means rote memorization of arithmetic (addition, subtraction, division and multiplication).  This is very much out of fashion in today's education world, where kids are expected to know the theory behind 2+2=4 instead of just knowing that 2+2=4.  Instead of just memorizing the addition, subtraction, division and multiplication "tables" as we used to call them, kids now are required to draw pictures to define what each arithmetic transaction represents, thereby deriving a greater, more spiritual relationship with each transaction.  My goal is to blow this whole thing up and turn math into not too much more than a party game where my grand kids will be able to amaze their friends by just magically knowing how to add or subtract stuff.  The key to my overthrow of the contemporary education system will involve neither technology or theory.  My weapon of choice will be FLASH CARDS!!  I can't wait to subvert the little minds I will be influencing.  I said there would be no technology, but in the spirit of full disclosure I must reveal that I did order the flash cards online.

Well, that's all for now.  I'm about to put on my jogging (actually walking) shoes and head out for a little exercise.  During my walk I will be sure to maintain the appropriate "social distancing" from any other bored people who are killing time getting in a little exercising.

So you will have something to look forward to, the following a list of potential future topics I may or may not tackle on my blog:

• The Astros Cheating Scandal - Watch out Red Sox, you're next 
• COVID-19 - Fact or Fiction - Who's crazy and who isn't?
• Cute Stories About Our Six Grandchildren!
• More Cute Stories About Our Six Grandchildren! (This time with cute PICTURES!!!!)
• Movie Reviews (If I ever go to another movie)
• Online Church - Worshipping in your pajamas with your feet up while eating Cheerios
• Social Distancing - Pros and Cons
• Why Would Anyone Want a Pet Dog?
• Flash Card Progress Report
• Top Ten Tasks That Can No Longer Be Avoided While Self Quarantined
• Why Are Viruses So Mean and Inconsiderate?
• Humorous Musings About the Universe and the Meaning of Life
• Serious Musings About the Universe and the Meaning of Life
• Would Life As We Know It End Without Amazon Prime?
• Conspiracy Theories and Really Stupid People Who Love Them
• Did I Mention I Was Writing a Book?

The End of an Era - A Tribute to STP

What started so promisingly back in February 2010 has come to a premature end - the victim of an 81-mile commute and too many hours at work. Those of you who still occassionally check my blog, to which I have posted exactly twice (counting this post) since December 2010, might remember my excitement over going to work for The South Texas Project Nuclear Operating Company ("STP") about eighteen months ago. Alas, that chapter of my like ended earlier than I expected, on June 8, 2011.

Following my inglorious layoff from Transocean after a thirteen-year run I was out of work for almost nine months. Being without a job isn't really so bad - for awhile that is. Unemployment gives you lots of time to do all those things you've always wanted to do - clean out the garage, take a few vacations (subject to available funding), visit the kids, clean out the closets, volunteer, catch up on your Bible study, clean out the attic, etc. But once you've visited, volunteered and cleaned out everything in sight the concept of earning a living starts to creep back into your consciousness, especially when the severance runs out. I was blessed to have STP arrive on the scene at just the right time.
As depicted in its official mailing address, STP is located eight miles west of Wadsworth, Texas on FM 521. It's a nuclear electric power generating station, and a darn good one. The people at STP are about as good a bunch as you'd ever want to work with. They have their quirks - lots of them as a matter of fact - but they are good at what they do and generally have fun doing it. When I decided to throw in with STP I was concerned about the commute, but I figured I could handle it. I was wrong. Spending three hours every day in your car ends ups being a less than positive experience. Although, on the positive side, I did listened to about seventy books on tape (actually CD), which probably qualifies me as being a well-read (well-listened?) individual. I also managed to never run into any four-legged animals larger that skunks, possums and raccoons. Most of my STP collegues are veterans of one or more big game collisions - with either a deer or a hog, or both.
I learned a few things at STP that will be valuable as I continue my career. However, I also learned a few things that are actually fun to know. For instance, are you aware that there are vastly different definitions for pastries available from Shipley's? If you go into a Shipley's in the Houston area and order a kolache you will be served a small cocktail sausage wrapped in dough. If you order the same thing in Bay City (the metropolis near Wadsworth) you'll get a flat sweet pastry with some kind of fruit on top. If you want the equivalent of a small cocktail sausage wrapped in dough in Bay City you need to order a "pig" which is actually a man-size piece of sausage wrapped in something that more closely resembles a biscuit. The Bay City version is much better than its Houston cousin. During my tenure at STP the task of providing pigs for the HR group typically fell on me, primarily because a certain recruiting manager talked a good game, but was too cheap to ever actually buy any of them for his fellow HR associates. I won't mention any names, but he knows who he is.

I also learned more than I ever thought I would about sea glass. For those of you who don't know, Matagorda Beach - just a few short miles from Wadsworth - is a world class repository of sea glass. Sea glass comes in many forms - all of them glass - that range from shards of 200 year old wines bottles (which I believe are red) to two-week old Pepsi bottles, which wash up onto the beach. Those with a romantic imagination see these bits of broken glass as the survivors of ship wrecks. Others, like me, more correctly guess that they come from the trash thrown overboard by the ship's garbage officer. Those with a stylish and artistic bent comb the beach for sea glass, which can be sold to local artisans for incorporating into jewelry and other valuable fashion items. Some sea glass fetches a considerable price - often up to thousands of dollars. The shards from the Pepsi bottles are at the lower end of the pricing scale.

I learned that people in the Bay City area get really excited about a new Mexican food restaurant, even if it's not all that good. They may have us beat on the pig front at Shipley's, but tragically, they aren't in our league when it comes to Mexican food. What they do have that we don't have is the K-2 Steakhouse, which has the largest selection of comfort food ever assembled. My favorite attraction is the tub of butter at the salad bar, which is big enough to butter most of the New England states. If you're ever on a diet and you want to do some closet eating away from your friends I suggest a drive down to the K-2 to destroy your will power in style.

I want to close this post by sending out a shout-out to all of my homies at STP . . . Vickie, Jennifer, Elsa, Lisa (the nurse), Lisa (the sea glass queen), Shawn, Kevin, L.T., Larry (no pigs), Connie, Mike, Tina, Roxanne, Clarence, Rhonda, Sharon, Crystal, Janna, Shannon, and Renee. I enjoyed working with each of you and I wish you all the very best in the coming years. I was blessed to have had the opportunity to work with you.

NEWS FLASH: Following my departure from STP, Vicki and I and 60 of our closest friends from the First Colony Church of Christ took an eight-day trip to Israel. See if you can find me in the picture abovem next to the Jordan River near where the Israelites probably crossed into the Promised Land. (HINT: I'm the one in the hat.) In the old days - when I was unemployed and blogging was the highlight of my days - I would have posted at least four lengthy blogs with pictures and details of the trip. However, for now let me just say that in my opinion, all Christians should make a trip to the Holy Land at least once in their lives. The perspective it provides on the life and times of Jesus is something you'll never forget.

NEWS FLASH #2: I will be starting a new job at Aramco Services Company in Houston on Thursday. The commute is 18 miles, which should take about 30 minutes, unless it rains, or there's a stalled car, or an accident, or a random police car parked near the freeway, or between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then, who knows how long it will take?

Happy Birthday Mr. Hood!

Today is December 31st - New Year's Eve. A day recognized by millions as a time to ponder the old year that has passed and new one that is fast approaching. This day, however, has additional significance in the Freede Hood - it's my older brother Curt's birthday.


I don't usually do tribute blog postings, so I'll keep this one pretty low key and try not to get too sentimental. Curt - Curtis when my Mom was mad at him, and Curtis Mitchell when she was really mad - was born on New Year's Eve 1951, the first of four sons to Heber and Eileen Freede. He attended kindergarden at Horace Mann Elementary in Warren, Ohio, and after graduation went on to scholastic and athletic success at Leavitt Elementary, Leavittsburg Junior High, Leavittsburg High School, and finally the University of Toledo.


Growing up he and I were inseparable. We shared a room for seventeen years until he went away to college in 1971 to become a pharmacist. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve Curt and I ganging up on our two younger brothers to keep them in line, teach them a lesson, or generally to just torture them for no real reason. I also remember the day we beat up Barry and Gary Foor, the twins who lived down the street (they deserved it). While in high school Curt was a star football player, setting every school and many county rushing records. If you're ever in Leavittsburg stop any person on the street and ask about how he single-handedly won the 1969 game against our arch-rival Champion High.


Today is an unusual day because it's the first day since December 3rd that we're not the same age. You see, when I say Curt and I are close, I mean close in a calendar sense of close. Owing to the fact that we were both born in December in adjacent years - he on the 31st and I on the 3rd - we are the "same age" every year for 28 days. I'm not sure at what point the realization dawned on me that my existence was not one that was planned. After all, how many people do you know who have a brother who is only eleven months older than they are?


Regardless of any additional fascinating circumstances, the main event today is Curt's birthday.


Happy birthday, Mr. Hood!




(Above: Curt is on the far left in the top picture - in the hat - and on the right in the botton picture - also in the hat.)

The Reports of the Death of Our Blog Were Greatly Exaggerated

Hello everyone. I'm returning to our blog after an absence of four months. With the Christmas season upon us and the end of the year fast approaching I thought I'd take a few minutes and do some catching up on what's been going on with us in the Freede Hood.

Our biggest news - for those of you who may not yet have heard - is that Bethany and Cody will be turning Vicki and I into grandparents, effective on April 30, 2011. We found out last weekend that the little human is a boy, as revealed during the "gender reveal" party that was held at our house last Saturday.

For those of you not familiar with exactly what a "gender reveal" party is, it works like this: Expectant parents go to doctor for an ultra-sound, which reveals the gender of the infant. However, gender is not revealed to expectant parents, but only to solitary designated third party, who is this case was Cody's mom, Cheryl, who due to work commitments knew she would be unable to attend the gender reveal party. Cheryl contacts bakery in Sugar Land and orders a cake that will be either pink or blue (in this case blue), with chocolate icing - which will conceal the color of the cake. At the party everyone wears either a pink or blue shirt to indicate their guess of the baby's gender. At the appointed time the expectant parents cut the cake and a naked baby jumps out. Not really. Actually the color of the cake reveals the baby's gender! It sounds pretty dorky, but it was actually a lot of fun, and quite suspenseful. It also proves that in 21st century Amercia people will now have a party for just about anything.

Because both Kayla and Bethany are designated for assignment to their in-laws for Christmas this year we held our Christmas festivities this weekend. Vicki arranged everything so perfectly that we for the most part thought that Christmas had officially been moved up a week. The only thing missing was the Christmas Eve candle-lighting ceremony at church. We decided against having our own such ceremony, guessing that it would lose its impact with only six candles. Vicki actually mentioned on the way to church this morning that she had some plans for the after-Christmas sales this week. Silly her. I'm thinking about taking down the outside Christmas lights tomorrow.

For Christmas this year I got Vicki two rocking chairs from Cracker Barrel. That's right, two of those white rockers that people sit in on the porch while they wait to be seated. She's wanted these rockers for several years, but I have always resisted, mostly because I don't really want anyone to know that I've actually been to Cracker Barrel, given that I have not yet attained the age of 85. As we sat on the back porch on Christmas morning, rocking away in our new chairs and talking about the new grandson, I suddenly felt old enough to be dirt. Vicki is debating over what "Grandma name" to choose for herself. I'm pretty much sold on "Grandpa" for myself. It will fit perfectly with the rocker.

Speaking of Christmas lights, we were devastated last week to learn that we did not place in the annual Greatwood home decorating contest. This blow was particularly severe because we had decided that this was the year we would go all out. In spite of my best efforts - which I have to admit may not quite qualify as "all out" - and some very customized work on my part, our finished product (see above) was neither appreciated or rewarded by the judges. Vicki has vowed revenge but I'm taking it a little more philosophically, trying to maintain some perspective on the true importance of a sign in the yard that says "Honorable Mention - Woodhaven". My plan for next year is to put some of those little electric candles in the windows and be done with it.

Boston - The Final Story

After a short lay off I'm back to finish off our travelogue of Boston and the surrounding countryside. Rather than stick with my original plan of a day-by-day account of our adventures in Massachusetts I think I'll just hit the remaining high points, in no particular chronological order. WARNNG: This is a long post. You might want to break it up over a week or so.

On the 4th of July we took the Number One bus north on Massachusetts Avenue for the twenty minute trip to Cambridge and the fable Harvard University. If you recall, about a month ago when I started blogging about our Boston trip I mentioned that the "unofficial" tour of the Freedom Trail was not the best way to go. That was true, but the "unofficial" tour of Harvard - run by the same bunch - is definitely the was to see Harvard. Due to "licensing" issues with the university - which I think involved Harvard getting a cut of the fees - this tour is technically free. That right - free! However, the "suggested" gratuity at the end of the tour is $10 per person or $20 per family. Being that there were two of us we had the option of paying $10 twice or $20 once. If you're ever in the neighborhood make it a point to stop by the Harvard campus and hang out with the "unofficial" tour kids. They were funny and informative. However, I did notice that one of them - although a Harvard student - did not know the correct usage of the word "set" vs. "sit".

After Harvard we took the Red Line subway out of Cambridge and headed for Fenway Park to watch the Red Sox do battle with the last-place Baltimore Orioles. Of course the Orioles killed the Bosox, but the trip to Fenway was fantastic! Walking from the subway stop to the Park was an experience that resembled a carnival. Once inside the sight of the Green Monster looming in left field gave me chills (well, considering it was almost 100 degrees maybe not actual chills). We were particularly impressed with the Boston fans, who sang God Bless America in the 7th inning at the top of their lungs. In addition, their enthusiastic rendition of Sweet Caroline was something to behold, as was the fact that nobody left early even though the Sox were losing 6-0 in the 9th inning. They eventually lost 6-1.

After the baseball game we went back to the North End for some more Italian food before heading down to the Esplanade along the Charles River for the gigantic Boston fireworks display. Or so we thought. Once we got into the throng of at least 500,000 people crammed into every square inch of space along the river we decided that between searching vainly for a spot to watch, probably not being able so see anything anyway, and the prospect of spending several hours escaping through the overwhelming sea of surging humanity after the show that we'd pass on the fireworks this time around. As we struggled through the throngs on our way back to the subway we were amazed by the thousands of people who were on their way down to the Esplanade, knowing that there was not a single blade of exposed grass remaining to be claimed.

On Tuesday we headed out of town to visit Salem, home of the famous witch trials in the 17th century. The witch thing turned out to be a bust - there was a cheesy witch museum that we skipped. But we did hit the Salem Customs House where Nathanial Hawthorne was employed as a customs officer when he came up with the idea for The Scarlet Letter. We also checked out some of the other historical buildings, the docks, and the large restored sailing ship that was docked near the Customs House. The problem that we eventually succumbed to was the heat, which actually hit 99 degrees. Our solution was to head north to the seaside town of Gloucester, where we managed to attached ourselves to a whale watching tour that was leaving just as we arrived. As whale watching tours go, this was a top ten experience. We saw at least 30 whales, some of them 70 feet long. Vicki got lots of pictures, all of which looking strangely the same - vast expanse of blue water with a black dot near the center.

On Wednesday we went north to Plymouth, home of the famous Plymouth Rock, which the truth be told could just as aptly be called Plymouth Stone. As famous rock go, it's not exactly the Rock of Gibraltar. It more like something that would fit inside one of those plastic kiddy swimming pools. Near the rock is a rebuilt replica of the Mayflower, which is only 102 feet long. Standing on it you get a sense for just how bad the Pilgrims wanted to leave their former digs for the New World. Anyone who would get on such a small boat to sail across the Atlantic Ocean must have had nothing to lose, except breakfast, lunch and dinner when they got seasick.

After the rock and the boat we headed for Plimoth Plantation (yes, its spelled differently). The Plantation is a recreation of the original town site that the the Pilgrims built on land that they stole from the locals when they arrived. It was a fascinating place, even though air-conditioning was not available. After Plymouth/Plimoth we drove up the coast for some sight-seeing, stopping at the town of Rockport for one last taste of lobster. Rockport is a quaint little town with the ruins of an old colonial fort in its harbor and a guy playing the violin for tips.

Well, that's about it. On Wednesday we headed home. All in all it was a great trip. We would highly recommend Boston as a vacation destination. Pictures below . . .

One last note that you need to know. In Massachusetts there is no sales tax on clothes. It was weird buying a $15 shirt and actually paying $15 for it.

Vicki and I in Rockport at sunset.

The citizens of Plimoth Plantation.

Plymouth Rock (note the "1620")

The tale of a whale.



Rockport Harbor (below)

Vicki and one of the witches in Salem.

Aboard the whale watching boat.



Fenway.

Vicki at Harvard (below)

Boston - Day Two

Sorry to keep everyone on the edge of their seats waiting for the details of the second day of our Boston trip. I hope my delay didn't cause anyone any permanent angst. I'm really not sure exactly what I've been doing that seems to have kept me so busy. I have had a few long days at work lately. Yeah, that's it. Work.



Regardless of my reasons (excuses), I'm here now and ready for a vivid description of Boston - Day Two! If I throw in some stuff that I already talked about in Day One please forgive me. We kicked off Day Two (Saturday) with a tour of the Freedom Trail. For those of you who are not up on Boston geography/history/tourism, the Freedom Trail is a 2.5 mile tour through the historic sections of Boston - which is pretty much all of Boston. To stay on the trail you simply follow the red line painted on the sidewalk. The brochure says 2.5 miles. It seemed farther for some reason; maybe because Boston was in the midst of one of its worst heat waves ever. It reminded me a lot of Houston's weather, and I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't take a 2.5 mile walk in the middle of the day in Houston, but when in Boston . . . Let me give you some guidance on taking on the Freedom Trail. There are three options of which I'm aware - 1) A trolley tour where you ride around in an open trolley and someone describes everything for you. It's an on-and-off trolley, so you can get off and on any time and anywhere you want. We decided that this was for wimps, 2) The "official" Freedom Trail Tour, during which you follow a guy dressed like Ben Franklin around to the various historical sites. This is the most popular tour. We opted to skip this because the guide was not only dressed like Ben Franklin, he was also just about as old and didn't seem like he'd be a fun guy, 3) The "unofficial" Freedom Trail Tour, which is conducted by two twenty-something kids dressed like two twenty-something kids. What distinguishes them is that one of them carries an American flag. This tour is much more hip than the others. It also - in spite of what the brochure says - skips about 50% of the historic sights, which meant that we had to go back and look them up ourselves, which wasn't too difficult because to the red line. We decided that if we had it to do all over again we do it all over with Ben.



Regardless of which tour option is selected, the history is the same. I won't give you a detailed historical account of each attraction, but instead will simply refer to the pictures below, each of
which includes a brief, snappy narrative.



Some Boston street entertainers. These guys called themselves the Breeze Team and they were pretty entertaining. In addition to their heavy funk break-dancing and acrobatics they also delivered two lines I'll always remember fondly: "We're gonna pass the bucket for our recommended $5 per person tip. If you run we will chase you" and "Remember folks, the more money you give us, the more money we'll have."







The inside of the Old South Meeting House. It was from this very place that the colonists - fed up with rising taxes and an overbearing government (hmmm?) - launched the original Boston Tea Party. After whipping themselves into an anti-British frenzy they rushed out and dumped a few million dollars worth of tea into Boston harbor.





Me surrounded by some very old dead guys. We learned that several years ago, in order to allow space for lawn mowers, the keepers of the old Boston grave yards rearranged the headstones into more manageable rows, meaning that the current placement of the stones to not correspond to the location of the deceased.






The TD Boston Garden, home of the Boston Celtics, multiple winners of the NBA championship. For the record, this is without a doubt one of the ugliest buildings I have ever seen.

Vicki's very artsy photo that captures not just the Old North Church, but also the statue of Paul Revere! One if by land, and two if by sea . . . It was 17 miles by land or one mile by sea. Where the lanterns really necessary?








An upscale neighborhood street scene in Boston. Most of these building are at least 150 years old.













Me standing in front of Paul Revere's house. A few historical tidbits about old Paul -

1) This house was already 90 years old when he and his family moved in.
2) Paul served in the Continental army, but was dishonorably discharged for reasons of insubordination and cowardice. After the war he demanded a court-martial which eventually cleared his name, thereby allowing him to become a tourist attraction.




Another street "performer." I'll bet she was hot under her chrome exterior.

















In this cemetery are buried Paul Revere, and Ben Franklin's parents. Nobody ever really said where Ben himself is buried.













Vicki outside a festive flower stand near Faniell Hall.



















Musket fire near the Bunker Hill memorial, which is by the way not actually on the top of Bunker Hill, which by the way was not really the hill upon which the Battle of Bunker Hill was conducted. Look it up.











The flag boy of the unofficial Boston Freedom Trail tour. If you look closely you can see the Ben Franklin guy in the background. I think Ben is giving flag boy the evil eye.








After finishing off the Trail at the old navy yard (home of Old Ironsides - not pictured) we elected to take the harbor ferry back to the North End. I highly suggest this as a nice way to end your day on the Trail, especially if the temperature is 96 degrees. It's about a ten minute ride and the breeze feels great. And if that's not enough, the price of the ticket ($1.70) is covered by your 7-day "T" pass. They also have ice-cold fountain diet-Coke, which was the highlight of the trip for Vicki.

After disembarking from the ferry we found ourselves surrounded by the festivities of the annual Harbor Days throng. We also found ourselves face-to-face with Legal Seafood, which according to all the tourist guides is THE place to go for lobster. I didn't get the low down on how it got the name "Legal". Sorry. Regardless of the mysterious name, the lobster was great, and not all that expensive (as lobster goes, that is). We had a waiter who was at least 6'9" tall and who was quite chatty. After dinner I bought myself a Boston Red Sox hat to wear to the game on Sunday. I'll talk about that "tomorrow", maybe.


After our lobster and hat-buying we headed back to our digs on the South End. It was a quick ride on the Red Line, the the Green Line, to the Silver Line bus. Not confusing at all! We highly recommend the Boston subway when the temperature is in the 90's! It made us feel right at home!

Tomorrow: Harvard, Fenway Park and Fireworks Madness!

The Great Massachusetts Muffin Tour

Greetings friends! After a lengthy absence I'm back to tell you all about the vacation trip Vicki and I took to Boston. We left last Friday morning and just got back to Sugar Land this afternoon. Other than the fact that during our visit Boston experienced one of its worst heat waves in recent memory (the temperature hit 99 degrees), we had an absolutely fantastic time. Who knew that Boston was such a fun place?

For starters, we stayed at the Aisling Bed & Breakfast, which is a 135 year-old row house on Boston's South End. The South End is definitely not the most upscale neighborhood in Boston, but it gave us a flavor for the real Boston, which is one of the most diverse places we've ever been. Our B&B was very comfortable, the gourmet breakfasts were all great (more on this later) and we were only a block from the Silver Line of the bus/subway system (the "T"). For a $15 weekly pass we traveled all over the city with ease (once we figured out how to read the transit maps). If you ever go to Boston, DO NOT bother to rent a car to get around in the city. The streets are for the most part narrow, they aren't laid out in a logical grid, and the traffic there make Houston look like a Sunday drive in the country. The T works great, it's cheap, and with the exception of a few weirdos who made Vicki a little nervous, it seemed pretty safe.

Rather than bore you with a very long post detailing all of our exciting adventures I'll instead break our trip into several shorter posts, which will enable me to bore you on a continuing basis over the next four or five days. Let's start with last Friday . . .

Boston Common - Boston Common is the oldest public park in America, dating back to the early 1600's. It's sort of the Central Park of Boston, but a little smaller and lot older. During its history it has served as a common pasture for the town's sheep and cattle, as the site for public hangings, as the place where occupying British troops camped and trained, as a burying ground, as a place for the town's folk to protest against the British government, and now, where the city-dwellers go for some outdoor rest and recreation. As Vicki and I strolled through the Common we realized that there were very few people who looked like us. We heard multiple languages spoken by people who looked like they came from a multitude of countries. This included the locals and the tourists. We stopped for awhile at the Frog Pond, which is an acre-sized concrete pond that's about a foot deep, in which the local kids frolic under a couple of water-spewing fountains as their parents relax in the shade. In the winter months the Frog Pond becomes a giant ice-skating rink.

Adjacent to the Common is the Botanical Garden, which is a much more serene and much quieter place. Apparently the masses don't enjoy tranquility as much as chaos because there were far fewer people here than in the extremely congested Common. In addition to the multiple flowers that populate the place, there are also the Swan Boats that operate on one of the small lakes. These are boats that seat about twenty tourists (I can believe that too many locals do this) and are powered by young men who sit in the back and pedal. The distinguishing characteristic of the Swan Boats is the large fiberglass swan that is perched at the back of each boat. By large I mean about eight feet tall. It actually looks kind of weird.

There are also several statues and monuments throughout the garden, memorializing significant people and events. My personal favorite is the Ether Monument, which as the name suggests is a monument to ether. It seems that the first successful application of ether as an anesthetic was at nearby Boston General Hospital. In the center of the garden is a large statue of George Washington astride his horse. As we were admiring this statue I overheard a conversation next to us in which a woman told her friends that you can always tell if a person died in battle, in which case they are always depicted mounted on a horse. I guess George Washington was killed in battle after he served his time as President of the United States.

After our ramblings in the Common and the Gardens we found our way up to the North End, which is home to the Old North Church and Paul Revere's House. These are both worthwhile attractions in their own right, but they pale is comparison to the North End's real attraction - about a hundred Italian restaurants packed into the area of a few city blocks. If you want some really good Italian food, go to the North End. We actually went twice while we were in town. As an added ambiance bonus I noticed that in front of many of the restaurants there were small tables at which sat old Italian guys who looked like they just stepped off the set of The Godfather. They all looked just about the same - slightly overweight, white shirt, slicked back hair, smoking a cigarette, drinking something alcoholic, and typically gesturing to each other while they spoke. They reminded me of my Mom's side of the family.

After our North End dinner we headed back to the South End. This being our first day on the T it took us a little while to figure out the difference between the Orange, Red, Blue, Green and Silver lines and which direction to take on each (a key consideration), but we managed to make it home without too much trouble. All day long we had commented to each other how nice the weather was - not too hot and not really humid at all! Little did we know the steaming evil that lurked in the weather forecast.

Tomorrow: The Freedom Trail, Lobsters, and soooo much more!

Fathers' Day

After a long absence caused by not having anything to write about I'm back, trying to think of something to write about. Father's Day seems like a logical topic, given that it is approaching this Sunday. Unlike Mother's Day, which has been recognized as a holiday in the U.S. since 1914, Father's Day didn't become official until 1972! I think the delay was primarily due to the influence of TV sitcoms, which for decades have generally depicted fathers as insensitive, incompetent, self-centered, clueless bumblers. Ever since Father Knows Best, Andy Griffith, and Leave It To Beaver vanished from the airwaves several decades ago, fathers have been represented almost exclusively by the likes of Homer Simpson, Al Bundy and Ray Barone. We get no respect, but it doesn't really bother us, because we know that we're important in our own way, and for what we bring to the parenting game.

Speaking from my personal experiences, I have to tell you that I am probably the luckiest father in the world. My two daughters (Bethany and Kayla for those of you who know them) are about as fantastic as any two daughters could be. I look back over our 25+ years together and realize that without them my life would have been nowhere near as fun and fulfilling as it has been. From pixie-league softball - where the Indians won the world championship - through two of the most beautiful and over-budget weddings ever performed, we have had a lot of really great times together. We've taken family trips to a lot of wonderful places - including Costa Rica (twice), Canada, Uganda, London, New York City, Colorado (countless times), California, Florida - and done a lot of really fun stuff - deep sea fishing, white water rafting, Broadway theater, U.S. Open golf, Disney World, Disney Land, climbing the highest mountain in Colorado, skiing, swimming with the sting rays in the Cayman Islands, and lots of other things I can't even remember. Kayla and Bethany both graduated from ACU in four years (almost unheard of these days) and now both have their master's degrees. They've both managed to find great Christian husbands (our secret goal when we sent them to ACU) and they've become great Christian wives. When I hear of all the pain and anguish so many of my friends have gone through with their kids I almost feel guilty. With the exception of a few minor disappointments, Vicki and I have been blessed beyond belief with two truly fine daughters. We wouldn't trade them for anything or anybody.

Happy Mother's Day

Vicki in her "pre-mom" days.

As many of you know, this Sunday is Mother's Day. Although it was celebrated on a local and state level as early as the 1860's, Mother's Day was officially recognized for the first time when on May 9, 1914 President Woodrow Wilson issued a proclamation, declaring the first national Mother's Day as a day for Americans to show the flag in honor of those mothers whose sons had died while serving their country in U.S. wars.

My mother died on March 14, 1993, about eight weeks shy of her 64th birthday of May 8th. Because Mother's Day falls on the second Sunday in May, my mom's birthday occasionally fell on Mother's Day. As a kid I remember that to her Mother's Day was far more important to her than her birthday. She successfully raised four sons, who collectively managed to turn her hair completely grey by the time she was forty years old. She loved us all in spite of the torture we put her through. We loved her, too, and we miss her.

As is my custom, each year when Vicki asks me what I plan to get her for Mother's Day I tell her nothing - she's not my mother. But, she is the mother of our daughters, Bethany and Kayla, so maybe I should reconsider how I approach Mother's Day. . . maybe next year. But in the meantime I can at least reflect on the tremendous job she did raising our kids. They are both outstanding young women. They are kind, respectful of others, and compassionate. they are solid Christians. Vicki taught them to be that way. They both aspire to be mothers themselves one day. They'll be great moms. They learned all the tricks from a great role model.

You see, all Vicki ever wanted to be was a mother. Oh sure, she's a college graduate and she spent a few years "working outside the home", but that was just to kill time until she got her promotion to what she really wanted to do, or more correctly, to what she really wanted "to be." I'm an okay dad, but Vicki is an unbelievable mom. Just ask our girls. Now that they're grown up and married and living away from us it's easy to tell how much they still depend on her. They call me every week or so - maybe - usually to ask about how to fill out their W-4 form or how to strip an old piece of furniture. They call Vicki every day, and usually more than once. I don't always know what they talk about, but I know it's always important to them.

I found a good description of Vicki in Proverbs 31:10-31. It's actually a description of a good wife, but with a few minor tweaks it's also a good description of a great mom - Vicki.

A mother of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.

Her daughters have full confidence in her
and lack nothing of value.

She brings them good, not harm,
all the days of her life.

She selects what's good for them
and works with eager hands.

She is like the merchant ships,
bringing them what they need from afar.

She gets them up for school while it is still dark;
she provides breakfast for them and encouragement for their day.

She sets about her work vigorously;
and she is always strong for her tasks.

When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.

She makes her daughters' beds when they forget;
and they are covered with clean sheets and comforters.

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.

She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.

Her daughters arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her.

"Many mothers do noble things,
but she surpasses them all."

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but she fears the LORD and is to be praised.

Give her the reward she has earned,
and let her works bring her the praise and gratitude she deserves.

Happy Mother's Day Vicki!

Even if you're not my mother.

What in the World is a Neti-Pot?

Greetings friends and neighbors everywhere. It's another Friday, which means that I'm home enjoying the first day of another three-day weekend. Nothing too, too exciting to talk about today, but I have a few things to bring you up-do-date on.

First of all, I'm still sick! It's now been three weeks and I still have whatever it is I have - sinus infection, bad cold, strep throat, swine flu? I don't know exactly what I have, but I wish it would go away. I called my doctor this morning and he phoned me in another antibiotic. Apparently the last one didn't work. This one is pink, the other one was white. Let's hope pink is the answer. Over the last few weeks I have amassed quite a collection of medications, both prescription and n[Photo]on-prescription. My favorite thing by far has been the Neti-Pot - the "Nasal Saline Wash System with Gravity Method, providing Natural Relief from Allergies & Sinus Symptoms."


What it actually is is a small plastic tea-pot looking thing that you use to pour a saline solution into your nose. You put the spout of the tea-pot into one nostril, lean forward, and pour in the solution, which runs through your sinuses and come out the other nostril. It sound pretty gross, but it's really not all that bad, and it works (to some extend). I'm considering grinding up one of my antibiotic pills, mixing it into the "99% pure, preservative-free sodium chloride and sodium bicarbonate solution" and then pouring this concoction into my nose. Isn't sodium chloride itself a preservative? Hmmm . . . Well, maybe I'll give things one more day.

Take a look at this picture below that was taken behind our office building at work. I knew there were alligators in the area, but nothing like this! It looks like the most dangerous thing about working in a nuclear plant isn't the radiation after all. And I thought that the "Gator Crossing" sign next to the sidewalk was a joke.

Tonight Vicki and I and nine of our guests will be attending the annual Second Mile Mission Center dinner and auction. This is Second Mile's biggest fund raiser, and they're expecting a crowd of 400. It will be nice to hang out with my old peeps from Second Mile. I kind of miss going down there on Thursdays.

Dead Trees & Baseball Games

Go Astros!

Yesterday was a sad day at our house, more specifically in our back yard. The giant elm tree that formerly resided there has now left the building. All that remains of the once mighty 80 foot tall tree is an inglorious stump. Stump is such an ugly word - don't you think - but a stump is all we have to remember our friend, who has now gone to the big mulch factory in the sky. For those of you who hadn't heard the news, our elm tree never came back from its winter vacation. When the leaves fell off last October we had no way of knowing that they wouldn't be coming back.

Yesterday morning at around 9:00 the crew from the Lanza Tree Service showed up. After a brief introduction to the tree they got right to work taking it down. I must admit to just a little trepidation at the thought of turning over the safety of not just my house but also our next door neighbor's house to four young guys who spoke about ten words of English between them. It was a little reassuring that an English-speaking Mr. Lanza himself showed up to kick things off, but he was gone by the time the real chain-sawing excitement got underway. As a gesture of my complete confidence in them, I placed a lawn chair in the center of the back yard and sat in it all day - the perfect spot from which to watch their every move. My positioning didn't seem to bother them much. I, on the other hand, did have a few moments of mild panic during the morning and afternoon. There's just something slightly discomforting about a guy with a chain saw at the top of a huge tree that sits seven feet from your back porch yelling down to his associates in a language you don't understand just before he starts sawing and having the entire group break into laughter. However, in spite of their laughter, the boys from Lanza did a great job, and their efforts kept me interested and entertaining for most of the nine hours I spent watching them.

For the naturalists among you, the highlight of the day came when a large raccoon decided to make a break for it as the chain saw approached his lair. As you will divine from one of the pictures below, a good portion of the tree was actually hollow, providing a nice residence for Mr. Raccoon. He scurried from the hollow in the tree, raced to the ground, and then sprinted along the fence line, circumventing the entire back yard before climbing up the fence and leaping into the neighborhood beyond. I have thought since what it would have been like had someone been walking down the the sidewalk at the precise instant the large raccoon vaulted over the fence into his unsuspecting path. A 9-1-1 call would probably have been in order.

Below I have included some pictures of the tree dismantling, starting from its full altitude at the beginning and ending with its attainment of stump status. Even the stump will disappear when the crew comes back on Tuesday with the stump grinder. Good-bye Mr. Elm. We'll miss the relief your shade provided to our summer electric bills.

Here's what the tree looked like before the cutting started.

A friend to raccoons, squirrels, ducks and all shade-loving people.

Here's what it looked like just before the raccoon decided to evacuate.

This is considered a condominium for a raccoon.

Attainment of "Stump Status"

After surviving the drama of Mr. Elm's demise, we decided that an outing to watch the Astros would put us all in a better frame of mind. "All" in this case included not just Vicki and I, but also Kayla, who was in town for a job interview. From the sound of things the interview went well, but I'll let her talk about the details, which I anticipate will show up in her blog at some point in the not too distant future. Going to the game made me feel that the world had again assumed its correct positioning in the universe, because I had gotten the tickets free from a vendor at work. As I'm fairly certain most of you will recall from one of my blogs last summer, after a streak of almost 30 years, we actually bought tickets to a game while I was unemployed. It was painful, and I vowed never to do it again. Anyway, the Astros beat the Pirates 4-3 in a game that lasted only two hours and four minutes. There were fireworks after the game, and a good time was had by all. The only downside to the evening was that we didn't get one of the commemorative Astros 45-year fleece blankets that were given away to the first 10,000 fans. We'll get there earlier for the 50-year blankets.

My Blog is on Life Support

It's happening. My blog is dying. It's fallen and it can't get up. Like a delicate flower that withers if it's not tended to every day, a blog will do the same if it's not posted to on a regular basis. Today's post is a desperate effort on my part to sustain what little life remains in the waning existence of It's All Good in the Freede Hood.

First, let me give you a personal update on myself. Those of you who know me know that I don't get sick very often. However, when I do get sick I try to make it count. On Monday of this week I was driving home from work when I noticed that my right eye was watering. I attributed this to the astronomical pollen count, and figured that although I am not typically affected by seasonal allergies maybe when the pollen count reaches nine million it will make even my eyes water. On my drive into work on Tuesday morning, both eyes were watering. Before the end of the day on Tuesday my wet eyes had been joined by a headache and sore throat. By Thursday night I was as sick as I can ever remember being. On Friday morning I took the almost unprecedented step (for me) of actually going to the doctor. After looking at my throat, holding his stethoscope to my back and making me cough and then looking in my ears, Dr. Ford announced that because of the recent Health Care Reform legislation I would have to be euthanized. Although I believed him, it turns out that he was only kidding around. Once the chuckling ended he told me that I had pink-eye in both eyes, a sinus infection, and a possible case of strep throat. Other than that I was apparently the picture of health. He wrote me four prescriptions and wished me well. So, since yesterday morning I have been putting eye drops in my germ-infested eyes, spraying some type of steroid spray up my nose, and taking two other pills. I think I'm starting to feel better.

I got some quotes on removing the very large dead tree in out back yard. They ranged from $1,300 up to $2,400. I think I'll probably take the one for $1,600 for the guy who was recommended by my neighbor as "good, cheap and insured." I'll need to check to verify his insurance first to make sure that if the tree falls on my neighbor's house that I don't have to build him a new one.

This past weekend we went on our annual Easter Weekend camping trip at Pedernales State Park. We were joined, as is our custom, by the Curry and Goforth families, who have accompanied us on this trip for that last ten years or so. The weather was great, there was plenty of water in the river, and a great time was had by all. Check Kayla and Lance's Blog if you want to see pictures of the event. When we started doing this there were 14 of us - 6 parents and 8 kids. Over the years we have picked up five daughter/sons-in-law and three more kids, so our group has expanded to 22. We're up to four campsites.

Work is going well. I really like the peeps in my group. This past week was my first meeting with our CEO and it went well. The guy I replaced (he retired) left at the end of last week, so this was my first week of really being in charge. I think I'm discovering that my boss is a tad bit needy. I'm thrilled that she seems to have a great deal of confidence in me and my opinions, but not as thrilled that she seems to call or email me whenever a thought pops into her mind. I'm sure I'll get used to her style.

Yesterday I finished up on our federal income tax return for 2009. I'm happy to report that we only owe an additional $494 to the U.S. government this year. Yippee!

Dead Trees and Refinished Furniture

Well, this was an interesting weekend. It started off - as all of my three day weekends do - on Friday. A few weeks ago I had noticed some large pieces of bark that had fallen off the huge elm tree in our back yard. I thought at the time that it probably had something to do with the cold days this winter. Unfortunately, the bark just kept on falling, in larger and larger pieces. So, on Friday I had a tree doctor come out and take a look at our tree. The tree doctor was a really interesting guy. At one point as we walked around the back yard he stopped and looked at me and said "I just love working on trees." He was sincere about this. I was touched. In spite of his heartfelt love of trees, his diagnosis wasn't good. Actually, it was as bad as it could be. Our gigantic tree is dead. This is a bad thing for several reasons. Number one, the tree is about 75 feet tall and shades the entire back yard during the summer months. It's actually one of the reasons that we bought this house. Number two, it will cost a lot of money to have such a massive tree removed. Number three, not only will it be expensive to take it down, but it will also be a tricky proposition to get it down without damaging anything. It sits almost on the property line between us and our next door neighbors, between our houses and next to the fence. A mistake in the removal process could result in a destroyed fence, or worse, a destroyed back porch in the back of our house, or worser, a severely damaged house (our house), or worser still, a severely damaged house (our neighbors). Cutting it down without hitting anything will be quite a spectacle. Maybe we can sell tickets to help defray the cost. I predict that there will be multiple future blogs on this topic. Hopefully none will include pictures of crushed roofs or dismembered neighbors.

On a more positive note, Bethany and Cody dropped by for a short visit this weekend. And, oh yeah, they brought along a few pieces of furniture that needed some refinishing work. Living in an apartment it's difficult to work on refinishing projects in your garage, because of course you don't have a garage. Saturday turned out to be the perfect day to work on their furniture. It was too wet to do anything outside and it was cool enough to make the garage comfortable. We re-did the large dresser in a sea foam green and the two bedside tables in a pale yellow. When we put the new drawer pulls on, everything looked really good. And, everything was accomplished with only two trips to Home Depot! We also celebrated Bethany's birthday - which occurred last Tuesday - on Saturday night by going to dinner at The Americas restaurant in the Galleria area. If you like Latin fusion food I suggest you give this place a try. It's kind of pricey, but it's really good. Go with the pecan crusted snapper and the creme brulee. After church and lunch we loaded everything into Cody's truck and they headed back to Round Rock this afternoon. A great time was had by all.

The Road to Wadsworth

Between the months on April 2009 and January 2010 I was in a routine - the routine of the unemployed. Stay up late every night watching old movies on TV, sleep until 8:00 or so most days, take care of whatever needed to be done around the house, go to movies on their first day of release (always at the matinee price), read a book or two . . . It was a great life. However, since February 1st I have taken on a new routine - getting up at 5:00 AM like most normal people, getting in my car, and girding myself for my morning commute. My commute starts in Sugar Land and ends 75.1 miles later, eight miles east of Wadsworth, Texas on FM 521.

I considered doing a tour of my closet for this post, but instead I think I'll give you a description of my daily trip through the countryside. As I may have mentioned before, the Sugar Land to Wadsworth trip in one that passes through an assortment of not-so-big Texas towns on a collection so not-so-straight country roads, which can be particularly challenging when it's foggy (which it has been a few times lately). With the exception of the Southwest Freeway - upon which I travel for about five minutes - my commute is on three state routes (35, 36 and 60) and on a multitude of FM roads (which are farm-to-market roads for you non-Texans). The state routes are for the most part straight with an occasional curve. The FM's, however, are a totally different story. I don't know the reason, but these roads are a collection of long sweeping S-curves, most of them quite sharp. It makes for an interesting game each morning, trying to see how fast I can take each curve. If it's foggy this game is cancelled.

Okay, now that I've given you a fascinating description of the roads, let's talk a little about each of the towna along the way. Once I exit the freeway onto FM 2218 my first metropolis is Pleak Village, population 947. Pleak has almost nothing to distinguish it from anything, except a brand new Pleak Town Hall, which looks a little over sized for such a small place. Maybe it was built with stimulus funds. Oh, and there is the Happy Hour Bar.

After Pleak comes Needville, population 2607, where "Thousands live the way millions wish they could." A highlight of the trip through Needville is the electronic sign in the storage yard on the north side of town, which apparently is rented out for advertising purposes. So far it has had three messages. "Pigs for sale"; "Sissy, will you marry me"; and "Sounds good to me" (which I assume was Sissy's way of saying "yes."

South of Needville I take FM 442, which heads west. The first place on this road is the town of Boling, where a green on white sign nestled among three gas stations proudly declares "Boling Bulldogs, 1972 State AA Football Champs." I think it might just be time to come up with another claim to fame. After all, the players on the 1972 team who are still living are now old enough to be grandfathers. Hasn't there been any other sports success since 1972? As you leave the city limits of Boling there is a herd of Texas longhorns on the right side of the road, some of which have fairly impressive horns. And then there is the chicken farm, which sits inside a major bend in the road and which can be smelled from several miles away. If you're having sinus problems consider a trip to Boling for a pungent experience that is sure to clear your head.

A few miles past Boling FM 442 dead-ends into Highway 60 at the "town" of Lane City. Lane City consists of one very run down gas station that has the slowest pumps in the galaxy, which by the way do not take credit cards. You actually have to go into the store to show them your card, which they swipe on one of those old-time credit card machines that uses carbon paper.

After Lane City comes Magnet. I can't for the life of me understand why the city limit sign is even there, because other than the sign there is nothing but open pastures. There is an ancient tumbled down sign that points down a gravel road and says "Magnet Baptist Church." I've slowed down and looked down that road, but I have yet to see anything that looks like a Baptist church.

From Magnet the highway is as straight as an arrow into the big city of Bay City, population 18,000+. I take the 12th Street short-cut that swings around the northwest part of town and drops me off west of town on Highway 35. After a few miles I head south on FM 1468 for the last ten minutes of my journey. My final town in Buckeye. Buckeye is a set of railroad tracks with two odd looking igloo-shaped corrugated tin buildings, one on each side of the tracks. The final stretch of road between Buckeye and "the plant" is notable for the number of dead animals that literally litter the road. In one day I have seen deceased rabbits, skunks, deer, possums, armadillos and raccoons. I have been warned that this section is also thick with wild hogs, but I have yet to see one either dead or alive.

And so, 75.1 miles and approximately 77 minutes after it began, my commute ends. In about ten and a half hours I'll do it again, in reverse order.

TOMORROW (or whenever I next blog): Our big tree is dead!