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!

Thirty Years and Counting!

Tomorrow is March 8th, which is a fairly significant date in history. It was on that very date, thirty years ago, that Vicki and I got married. It was a fairly humble ceremony by today's standards, with about 50 guests attending, followed by a "cake and punch" reception in the fellowship hall at the Westbury Church of Christ in southwest Houston. I cried like a baby the entire time. We honeymooned in southern California, staying in such memorable places as Super 8, Motel 6 and the most run-down Best Western in North America. Half way through the trip I became so sick that my temperature spiked to 104 degrees. Vicki became panic-stricken, worrying not so much about becoming an instant widow, but about how she would ship my body back to Texas. We've come a long way since 1980.

To celebrate our anniversary we decided on taking a little "stay-cation" by traveling to Uptown Houston, home of the world famous Galleria, great restaurants and hordes of other over-priced hoity-toity places. Our first stop was the Hotel Granduca, a place included on the list of "Great Small Hotels of the World." We checked into a Junior Suite, which came complete with a full kitchen (who cooks in a five-star hotel?), and a great view of the pool area of the luxury high-rise property next door. If you ever want to pamper yourself, check out the Granduca. My favorite part of our stay was watching the doormen/bell boys literally run through the lobby to open the door for us.

After checking in we strolled across the street for a visit to Crave Cupcakes, where we picked up a couple gourmet cupcakes. We then walked a few feet down the sidewalk to Starbucks. Ahh, the perfect combination - washing down a $4.00 cupcake with a $5.00 cup of coffee. The joys of Uptown. Following our excursion to the land of hollow calories we returned to the hotel to shoot a few spirited games of pool in the Billiards Room before our afternoon nap to rest up for dinner.

Dinner was at the Capitol Grille near the Galleria. If you don't want steak, king crab or lobster don't go here. Vicki ordered the king crab, and was elated beyond description when it was delivered already cracked! The Capitol staff went all out for us. They gave us the "quietest table in the whole place", decorated our table, and even took our picture (which they printed and presented to us). And then there was the free creme brulee. We also ordered the coconut cream pie, just for good measure. This is the only place I've ever been where our server presented us with her business card, with instructions to call her if we ever had any questions about the Capitol Grille. During dinner we took a serious look back down memory lane, and made an actual written inventory of all of the places we had visited during our thirty years of wedded bliss. Believe it or not, we actually came up with something for each year. We also threw in some significant events for good measure - weddings, funerals, jobs found, jobs lost . . .

Feeling like almost beached whales we headed back to our junior suite, eagerly anticipating going to breakfast the next morning. Breakfast, by the way, was French toast (Vicki) and waffles (me). We then spent the rest of the morning lounging in our suite, reading the paper and contemplating our next meal. After one last race through the lobby with the doorman we were in our car and heading back to Sugar Land, stopping only to get Vicki a diet Coke at McDonalds. Home again, we rested up for our next event - dinner that evening at Churrascos with members of our First Family.

Vicki lining up a shot in the Billiards Room.

Crave Cupcakes looms in the distance.

Our table at the Capitol Grille.

(A picture of a picture)

Still smiling after 30 years!

Let's Talk About Nothing

As I feared, keeping up with my blog since returning to the world of work has become a real challenge. There are two primary reasons for this. First of all, I leave the house at 5:30 AM and usually roll back into the driveway at around 7:00 PM. This in and of itself is not an excessively long work day. However (this is the second reason), working takes 13+ hours out of my day, leaving me not only with a limited amount of time to blog, but also with a vastly reduced amount of time to do or see anything worth blogging about. Oh, for the good old days when I had unlimited time to do whatever I wanted, including making up things to blog about. However, there have been a few fairly noteworthy things happening lately.


This weekend I got to meet my new grand niece, Ava Campbell. Ava is, by unanimous consent of all of Earth's residents, the cutest baby on the planet (I took a poll). If you don't believe me, check out Kayla and Lance's blog (the link is located to the left of this post). Kayla has included about 100 pictures of Ava for your viewing pleasure.


I have now become officially addicted to listening to "books on CD" during my fairly lengthy commute to and from work. So far I've "audio-read" five books. Yesterday I finished Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck. Like The Grapes of Wrath, Mice takes its place as one of the most depressing books ever written. But don't let that stop you from reading either or both of these books. They're both great, in their super-downer sort of way.


Last Friday afternoon I went to see the movie Shutter Island. I went alone, not because I am such a loser that I can't get anyone to go to a movie with me, but rather because Vicki was out of town and it was Friday afternoon and everyone I know was working. NOTE: At my new job we work ten-hours a day, Monday through Thursday (we're off every Friday). I didn't wait for Vicki to see it because the previews on TV looked really scary and creepy, and she doesn't do scary and creepy. However, the movie was actually much more suspenseful than scary/creepy. I enjoyed it enough to give it an 8 out of 10. However, judging by their comments, the surprise ending left some of my fellow theater patrons less than thrilled.


Before I go I need to bring up up to speed on the latest fishing news. While fishing on Turtle Lake in northern Saskatchewan (that's in Canada for those of you who are geographically challenged) a lucky angler hooked a 36" northern pike, which is by most standards a very, very large northern pike. However, while Mr. Lucky was reeling in his monster fish, another really monster fish decided to eat it. When all was said and done, Mr. Lucky had landed not only the original 36" fish, but also a bonus fish that was - get this - 56" long! Weighing in at 55 pounds, this behemoth was a new Canadian record for a northern pike. Remind me never to swim in Turtle Lake. Sushi anyone?

Rugby, Joe and "Bob"

After a tough week at work - my third since rejoining the work force - Vicki and I attended two exciting functions - 1) breakfast at Bob's Taco Station, and 2) the rugby match between Texas Tech and Rice University. Both were memorable.

Let's start with our visit to Bob's Taco Station. As we do about once each month, we arose on Saturday morning and headed for Bob's. We arrived around 9:30 to find the usual crowd. Most of the tables were taken but we didn't have to wait. After being seated and ordering we were sitting there chatting. Suddenly a very large almost round man appeared at our table. He introduced himself as Joe Alaniz and then proceeded to take a seat. I recognized Joe as the owner of Bob's. You'd think the owner of Bob's would be named Bob (I'll get to that later). After seating himself, Joe waited about three seconds to launch into a summary of his life story. He told us that he and his wife had been married for 52 years, that she was as mean as a snake (we think he was joking), that they was originally from the Valley, that he had served in the U.S. Army in Germany in the late 50's, and that they had come to Rosenberg by way of San Antonio back in 1990. Joe had recently been forced to give up his job with the Texas Department of Corrections due to a disabling back injury. Faced with the prospect of not having any money, the Alaniz family decided to open up a snowball stand (now called "shaved ice") in an abandoned gas station on Highway 90 in old town Rosenberg. Their business was fairly successful during the steaming hot summer months, but as late fall approached they realized that the market for snowballs would most likely diminish significantly with the onset of cooler weather. It was at this point that Mrs. Alaniz decided that they should open up a stand to sell burgers and tacos to the local "wetbacks" (her words). The did just that, expanding into the remaining space of the old gas station. Bob's Taco Station was born. As Joe continued his story he told us that the Station was named not for him, but for his youngest son, Roberto, or as they called him, "Bob". Today, Roberto - who graduated from both Texas A&M and from culinary school - has taken over the day-to-day operation of the business. Joe, who is now 74 years old, busies himself with handling some of the more mundane administrative tasks of the business and with conducting public relations work with customers such as ourselves. He told us he has a "BS" degree.

After we left Bob's we headed down to Rice University to attend the rugby game between Texas Tech and the Rice Owls. This game was a "club team" affair, which is really a throw-back to the old days of college athletics when the participants played not to hold their scholarships and to make lots of money for the athletic department, but simply because they loved to play their game. The Tech boys made their may to Houston on their own dime and stayed not in an upscale hotel but in the homes of local families with whom they are acquainted. Vicki and I showed up at the game to watch play the semi-famous Reid Curry, the son of our good friends, Rachel and Randy.

Let me describe rugby to you, based on the understanding I gained by watching this one game. There are (I think) 15 players on a side. They are dressed in skin tight jerseys and shorts that look like the ones worn in the NBA back in 1985. The majority of the players on the Tech team, and a few more for Rice, had Mohawk haircuts. I observed that a common trait of rugby players is to have over sized thighs, which when accentuated by their little short shorts tend to make them look almost freakishly bulky. Top this off with the Mohawks and they all looked just a little bit scary. Scoring in rugby is via a "try" which is similar to a touchdown and worth five points. After scoring a try there is the attempt for what I would call the extra point, which is actually worth two points. Points can also be scored via a drop kick field goal, which is worth three points. I didn't actually catch the final score because in club games scoreboards are apparently optional (Rice's field didn't have one). However, the last score I heard was 32 - 7 in Tech's favor, and Tech scored a lot more points before it was over. Reid did not disappoint us, going about 75 yards for a try before collapsing breathless into the try zone. Go Raiders!

For those of you who have never seen a rugby ball up close, here is a rugby ball up close. If you look very closely at the words on the the line under "Gilbert" you'll note that this ball was "Pre-Kicked", whatever that means.

Here I am with Reid, the hero of the day. I was informed that wearing two different colored socks has absolutely no significant of any kind, except maybe to Reid.

Slow Death and Valentine's Day

I've been thinking about my blog and I'm starting to get concerned. After nine or so months of posting on a fairly regular basis I fear that I have run out of stimulating topics upon which to discourse. When my life was a carefree succession of endless days unencumbered by employment I had time to think of stuff and blog about it. Even if what I wrote entertained nobody but myself I still looked forward to launching my thoughts and opinions into cyberspace on a consistent basis. But what do I have to blog about now? Work? My commute? IRS regulations regarding the administration of COBRA and HIPAA? All fascinating topics to be sure, but will this be be enough? Will my blog die a slow death? Only time will tell.

With that said . . . I'm starting to get back into the swing of things as a working man. My circadian rhythms have now been synced up with my new sleep patterns and I no longer have to rely on my alarm clock to awaken me in the morning. I still set it for 5:00 am (just in case), but there is really no need, as I now wake up precisely at 4:41 every morning. I think I have just about convinced myself that an 80 minute, 75 mile commute isn't really so bad. I actually felt pretty good about it today for a couple reasons. First of all, I didn't make the trek to Wadsworth today because I had two meetings in Houston. As I was heading inbound of the Southwest Freeway in the rain I noticed something that I hadn't seen for the last two weeks - cars - lots of cars, most going only about 15 mph in the driving rain. There are no cars going 15 mph on my commute to work. Second, I ran into a friend who works downtown and he commented that it takes him about an hour and fifteen minutes to get home from work most days. And that's a grinding bumper-to-bumper, dodge-car kind of a drive. I have yet to encounter any bumper-to-bumper traffic as I travel through the downtown thoroughfares of Needville, Pleak, Boling, Magnet (yes, there's actually a crossroads called Magnet) or Wadsworth. And, I have discovered "books on tape" - which are actually, of course, books on CD. I've listened to two of them so far and they are like magic for making my drive time fly by. I found out today that it's possible to go online with the Fort Bend Public Library and reserve some pretty good titles. I predict that I will become a very well read - or should I say "well listened" - person over the next few years. Think how impressive and interesting I'll be at dinner parties!

Today was my first pay day and it turned out much better than expected. It seems that due to some type of payroll glitch I received not one but two pay checks! Vicki texted me in my meeting when she saw the direct deposits hit our checking account, but alas the error was discovered immediately, before she had time to withdraw the extra funds. Within a few minutes I had a voice mail and an email asking that I call payroll to arrange for a repayment of their mistake. I will dutifully - if regretfully - comply with their request.

Finally, I have a movie review for you. Last Friday - I'm off every Friday you know - Vicki and I saw the movie Dear John. I didn't really know either of the lead actors, but I know that the female lead was the same girl who was the daughter in Mama Mia. Yes, I'll admit I say Mama Mia, but I thought it was stupid. I won't say much other than Dear John far exceeded my expectations and for the most part wasn't bad. I wouldn't drop everything to run out and see it, but if you're having a slow day it might be something worth considering.

Tomorrow, being Friday, is my day off. I have some big plans. First, I plan to fix the leak in the kitchen sink. After that my schedule is mostly open.

For those of you (guys) who have been too busy to notice, don't forget that this Sunday is Valentine's Day. Although some cynics may try to convince you that this special day is nothing more than an overblown conspiracy by Hallmark and other retail terrorists to separate you from some of your hard-earned cash, please observe it for what it truly is - a day to show your special someone how much you care. Don't feel that you need to go overboard. Any small token of your affection will do. Really . . .

One Week Down - 311 More 'til Retirement

I know the suspense is killing you, so I thought I'd give everyone an update on my first week back at work after my nine-month hiatus. All-in-all things went pretty well. My biggest problem was feeling something akin to jet-lag for the first few days. I've never been a big fan of sleeping really late, but during my exile from the work force my average time of rising in the morning was around 7:15 AM. This wasn't exactly sleeping the day away, but it's late when compared to 5:00 AM. My commute has been about what I expected. After trying every conceivable route I've determined that the fastest and easiest way is Highway 59 to Highway 36 to FM 442 to Highway 60 to FM 521. During my scenic 75-mile drive I pass through the metropolises of Rosenberg, Needville, Pleak Village, Boling, Bay City and Wadsworth. These are just the big towns. There are also several smaller ones whose names escape me at this time.

The people at work are all pretty nice and for the most part pretty laid-back types. The differences between Transocean and the South Texas Project Nuclear Power Station - affectionately known to the locals as "STP" - are striking. Transocean had 25,000 employees located literally all over the world. STP has about 1,500. Transocean was populated by a large percentage of international employees. STP is about 95% locals who were born and raised in south Texas. Transocean had an atmosphere of tension, chaos and suspicion, born from years of continual mergers and acquisitions. STP has an atmosphere that seems closer to one big family. A large number of people who work there have been there for 20+ years. Three of the people who work in my department have known each other since they were kids, having grown up together in Bay City, gone to school together, and actually graduated together in the Class of 1976. To them, I'm practically a foreigner.

There's a company store on-site - called Nuclear Notions - that sells STP shirts, jackets, caps, key chains, and just about any other trinket upon which an STP logo can be placed. There is also a small fitness center - called Nuclear Motions (I not kidding). I found out yesterday that on Thursdays the Credit Union offers free popcorn. They have one of those big popcorn poppers that you see at the movie theater in their lobby and everyone just goes in, grabs a bag and fills it up.

One thing that STP doesn't have is covered parking. I first became aware of this when I arrived for work on Monday morning and it was raining. This realization was reinforced every day for the rest of the week. For the last 30 years I've always worked in places with parking garages. I'll need to get a decent umbrella.

In spite of the long commute, the goofy names for the company store and fitness center, and no parking garage, I'm looking forward to my new nuclear career. Please keep those jokes about glowing in the dark coming.

This is a picture of STP. The two big domes are where the nuclear reactor units are housed. The building in the foreground is where my office (see below) is located. Disclaimer: I did NOT take this picture, which if I had would have subjected me to disciplinary proceedings "up to and including termination of employment." This is a picture of a picture from a recruiting brochure. Of course, this begs the question - If it's okay to put this picture in a brochure that is distributed to the world, why is it not okay for employees to take the same picture?

This is my office. I'm still working on ideas for my decorating motif. Note that I have a great view of the dumpster.