Happy birthday, Charles Marion Russell.

Happy 142nd birthday, if my math is correct. But there's a reason I don't teach math (click on any of these to see the larger image).



Anyway, your work has filled my imagination with wonder ever since I first set eyes on and thrilled at the details of an Indian war party...



or a fancifully laid out scene from actual history...



Or the first time I saw a buffalo hunt. Where else are these kinds of images portrayed with better skill and realism.



There's humor there too, like here, where a man comes back to camp and finds it's been invaded by curious critters...



Or here, where a morning breakfast is ruined by an unruly bronc. If you search through Russell's work, you'll be amazed how often he painted this scene.



My own imagination has been enriched and shaken, seeing myself in pictures like this one and wondering what it would have been like to live back then.



What a wonderful job you did for us all, and what a wonderful legacy you left to your country and your people. Here's hopin' you found a rich and wonderful reward, beyond "the pass on the Big Divide."



Happy Birthday Charles M. Russell. We're better off for havin' known ya. Cheers!

Found this over at LiveLeak.

Some dude turned his old 8mm to digital and posted it. Figured a few of you might like to see it. The music's good anyway. Cheers!

Weekend plans comin' together.

First, OK, happy St. Patrick's day to everyone. In celebration of the day, I'll warn you. Just don't click on this. Mmmmm, I figured as much. Happy Holidays!

OK, now that that's over with. I filled out my census form last night. What a letdown. I opened it up and it looked like the friggin' SAT. I was expecting all sorts of tedious questions about the different aspects of my life and work. I was expecting to be angered by the invasion of my privacy. But then I started fillin' out the form and quickly realized that 90% of it was superfluous. It took about two minutes.

All they want to know is how old I am, do I own the house, my "race", which really means what color I am, and are there any other folks livin' in the house with me. Jebus, there was room for about 20 folks there. Who'd have that many people livin' in their house with them? Mormons? Mexicans? One of those fundamentalist couples that can't stop poppin' out kids, like they don't know how it happens?

Lets face it folks, there's only one race. the HUMAN race. Otherwise it's about ethnicity. When it comes to that, they only want details if you're not White. I mean, I could lay out my ethnic heritage... French Creole, German, Scots-Irish. And, being Southern, maybe there'd be some African and Cherokee in there too, but there's no space for that on the form. They only really want the dirty details of your ethnicity if you are a "minority". There's a box for Samoan, but not Scots-Irish. Hmmmm, I wonder why?

Like I said, there's space there to fill out the particulars for like 20 people who may be livin' in my house. But it's just Denise and I here, so the rest of the thing stayed blank. Yep, I filled in the info for Denise. She's been livin' here for close to three years. Then she'll have to fill out her own form when she get's around to goin' to her place and checkin' her mail. Does that mean she'll be counted twice?

Anyway, as I said, the plan for the weekend has finally come together. I've had the week off, but Denise only got half the week. She'll get off tonight, and we'll spend the night here. Then, Thursday morning, we'll drive down to Fredericksburg. We'll enjoy ourselves down there, eat some good food and drink some beer, and then we'll drive on down to San Antonio.

We've got reservations for two nights at the nice Holiday Inn on the river, with a balcony overlooking the water. Other than eating good food and having a great time, my one plan is to drive down to the Goliad mission and check it out. I've never seen it before, so I'm really looking forward to it.

Many of you may not know, not being from here, but the Goliad mission played a large part in the rebellion against Mexico in 1836. They never talk about it in the movies. They go from the heroic last stand at the Alamo to the victory at San Jacinto. But in the middle there, untold by Hollywood, there were several other battles, including the battle of Coleto Creek, and then the massacre that took place there at the Goliad. 342 some-odd men, walked out into the scrub and shot by firing squad. It's gonna be very interesting to finally see the place. It's been alive in my imagination for years.

Anyway, we plan to spend Thursday and Friday nights at the hotel, and then drive back home Saturday morning. That'll give us plenty of time to relax before we both have to go back to work on Monday. I'm sure I'll have cool pictures to show you after all that, so I'll see you again after all the merriment. Y'all be good,, and if ya can't be good, take pictures. Cheers!

Update: OK a shit storm has blown in to Denise's office, so we won't be goin' down to SA till Friday afternoon. Muh! WTF? Maybe Goliad on Saturday and Fredericksburg on Sunday, on the way home. We'll see.

So, you think you could keep it up?

Friday night dinner with Mom, and the weekend.

Denise and I took Mom out to eat Friday night. It was Mom's turn to pick the place, and pay. That's how we keep from fightin' over the check every week. It works out fine.

We haven't been to the Olive Garden in ages. Mom loves it. Truth be told, so do I, but we usually get our Italian food at a few other spots in town. There's better places around here, more authentic feeling than the OG. But the salad and bread sticks are wonderful, so we always enjoy ourselves.



Denise went for the Chicken Marsala; Sautéed chicken breasts in a savory sauce of mushrooms, garlic and Marsala wine. Served with Tuscan potatoes and bell peppers.



We were all slobberin' over the picture of the Mixed Grill; Skewers of grilled marinated steak and chicken with a rosemary demi-glace, served with grilled vegetables and Tuscan potatoes. It's new in the menu. Mom decided to be the guinea pig.



I was torn over several dishes, but decided to go with an old favorite... The Seafood Alfredo; Sautéed shrimp and scallops tossed with creamy fettuccine alfredo. I've loved this dish for years. It's always good.

We killed two bins of salad between us, and then the main dishes arrived. The camera came out, and my womens both became bashful.



Witness protection program.



No doubt about it. God knows what they did, but nether one wants their picture taken. Makes ya wonder who yer really livin' with.



After the OG, it was back to Mom's place and a slice of her fresh pecan pie.



We relax in her bedroom, which she has set up as a den. back when Dad was alive, he spent most of his time in the kitchen watching his TV, and Mom stayed in here watching hers. Her bedroom is still set up that way, though dad's TV and chair are gone, replaced by a nice flat screen TV mom watches when she's in the kitchen.



Inevitably, one of her cats will jump up and want some lovin'. They provide her with a lot of love, and she gives back in triplicate.

Saturday, Denise and I slept in and were lazy all day. by the evening, nether of us were in the mood to go out. We hadn't had a pizza night in a while, so I called the Pizza palace here in town and ordered a large double decker.



It had ham, sausage, pepperoni and mushrooms, with extra cheese. I think there's a little left in the fridge, but it's not long for this world. The make the best pizza in town, hands down. There's something about their crust. It's just wonderful.

Sunday, yep, more lazy layin' around. By dinner time we were thinkin' about goin' out, then Denise asked me if a patty melt from Whataburger sounded good to me. Maybe you've seen the commercial?



I got down there to the drive-up window and found out they've stopped offering them. Couldn't believe it. They're a seasonal thing I guess. They only put them on the menu for a short time.

I told the girl in the window, "That's like handin' free Crack out at a school and then cuttin' folks off. It's just WRONG!" She laughed, then said "Yea, I love 'em too." Question is, why the hell do they pull shit like this?

We ended up with the new Grilled Chicken Melt; A grilled chicken breast, layered with melted Monterey Jack cheese, grilled bell peppers and onions, on a freshly toasted wheat bun, fries and one big chocolate shake that we shared.

That's it folks. That was our weekend. We rented a few movies too, but that's gonna wait for another post. This morning, Denise went off to work while I relaxed in from of this thing and then went back to bed. Spring Break. Cheers!

This'd be cool to play with.

Mom's got a new kitty.

Can you see him there in the grass? He's just moved into the yard, takin' over from an older Tom who used to run things.



She mourns the exit of the earlier fellow, but puts dry food out for this one, which, of course, is why he's moved in. Or wait, maybe it's because he's a...



Pet Cemetery kitty!?!?! Buwaahahaha! Ooo, I scared myself.

Yea, I know. Pffft! Reauuuuuu! Fffft! Ffft! Cachunk, PING! Yep, that'd do it.

We'll be headin' over there later to get Mom and take her out to eat... Chinese food! Wooooohooooo!



Mmmmmm, can you smell it? Pfew, I pity you poor folks. You can look but you can't touch. Well, you can. you just gotta get your asses to Texas! What the hell you waitin' for? How many more of these shots do I have to post? Damn!

Wilson Family Reunion, 2010.

Went to the annual Wilson Family Reunion last Sunday near Belton. Been goin' to these things ever since I can remember.



For instance, here's a shot from the 1970s. My folks are in there on the right, and my Uncles and Aunts (my fathers three brothers and their wives), and me, peekin' over everyone's heads from behind.



You can see here that I still stand a head taller than all the others. That's my cousins Bobby and Larry there (son's of Sam Wilson), John (Son of Johnny Mack, in the vest), and our one remaining uncle, Uncle Punk.



We all come together on the first Sunday of March to see one another and keep the memory alive of our Great Grandfather, W.S.S. Wilson (here on the right). He's the guy who came to Texas in the late 1800s from Alabama. He eventually accumulated something like 800 acres of land, being farmed (cotton) by his son's, as well as many other sharecroppers.

When he died in the 1930s, his second wife sold off all but a little of that land, pocketed the cash and moved to California, leaving her husband's other sons and daughters with nothing. My Grandfather...



The man you see here, got $200 in the will. He was a sharecropper until World War Two came along, and my father sent enough of his pay home from the Army to allow them to begin to make payments on a house. Then, later, they bought a farm near Holland, Texas.

The shot above was taken at a reunion in Holland the 1950s, back when folks used to dress up for such a shindig.



By the time this shot was taken, around 1990, all the brothers had aged a bit. That's Mack on the left, my father, Punk (the youngest), and the oldest brother, Sam, on the right. Punk talked to me this last Sunday, telling some of the same old stories I'd heard before. He said that while his three older brothers would always be quick to defend him, they hated one another with a passion and were quick to fight. I witnessed a little of that years ago, between my dad and his brother Sam. They were both in their 70s, but the sibling anger was still there.

Punk retold an old story about a day back in the 1930s when, as children, they all went down to the river to bathe. Sam kept pushing Punk into the water. He didn't know how to swim, and Sam kept shoving him back in as he got to the edge. He says my dad came up, pulled Sam up and the two went at it. They were both in their late teens by then, but Punk was probably only 6 or 7. He says he tried to stop them, but the anger from years and years was fueling their fight.

Sam ended up with a crooked nose that day, and my dad became the Alpha Male in the group. He stayed there, at least in his own mind, until he'd outlived both Sam and Mack, and aged to the point that his mind began to drift back to an older, easier time and memory. Now I can see Punk doing that. It's as if the past is more alive in him that the present.



Today, the focus of the reunion has begun to shift to my generation. With a few exceptions, like my aunt Betty here (Sam's second wife and Bobby and Larry's mom), and old Punk, we're the geezers now. It's been interesting to see that transition take place. Painful too, but inevitable. There are always a few new babies and/or grandchildren every year, as we all get a little older and our elders become fewer and fewer.

I used to think that once my folks died (Mom is still goin' strong, but doesn't enjoy these reunions), I'd stop coming to these things. I guess I never felt like I fit in that well with all of these folks. They all grew up here together, on farms or in a rural setting here in Central Texas. They all had the slow, stable, rural upbringing that my folks had had.

Mom and dad used to always remind sis and I of that peaceful, happy time as we moved from one Air Force posting to another. Through that telling, and occasional visits, my sister and I grew up feeling both a part of this extended family, and set apart from it. Part of it, through heritage, but really not apart of it at all. We knew these people, but hardly knew them. We found out, as we got older and talked about these things, that we both had grown up desperately wanting to have lived here and had the lives our parents described. We couldn't appreciate the coolness of our own lives in the moment, growing up in places like Bermuda and England, because we were always dreaming about this place.

My sister still feels very strongly that we missed out on something, not having grown up here, but my feelings have changed a bit with age. I still dream about what might have been, but I also appreciate the fact that our travels were a rich experience, one that all my cousins grew up envying. It's funny. They wanted what we had, and we wanted what they had.

Punk said something else to me this time that was interesting. He wishes he'd been older back then, so that he could have been more a part of his brothers lives. He was only about six or eight when my dad left to join the Army in 1942. He wishes he'd been older, so that he could have had more time to grow up with them. I told him I'd had the same feeling.

After years of wishing that I'd grown up here, I now find myself drifting off from time to time, wishing I'd been born about ten years earlier. I could have gotten to know my grandfathers, and taken part in a lot of the fun that I grew up hearing about, but which seems to have mostly ended by the time I was old enough to take part.

So, both Punk and I found a kinship in the notion that it really sucks to be the youngest in the family, but we're both still here. Sometimes, when I look at my uncle, I see myself in 30 years... the only one left, surrounded by folks who don't really know what your life was about, constantly drawn to memories of the past.

That's a pretty depressing notion, but I don't think ether of us have suffered too much. We've both turned out pretty good, Punk and I, and we'll deal with whatever comes, as it comes. What the hell else can we do?



Of course, one of the rituals at the reunion is the pot-luck lunch.



The spread is usually pretty good. Lots of casseroles, potato salads, pot roasts and store bought fried chicken.



Usually Mom cooks some chicken, or something else for me to bring. But this time I decided to do some BBQ pork ribs. They're easy, and I think they turned out pretty good. I think there were four or five pieces left in the end, from what had been two racks at the start of the day.



At about noon or noon thirty, the master of ceremonies makes announcements about those who are there and maybe who's passed in the last year, and then we bow our heads in prayer. It's hard not to get emotional then, but I've gotten pretty good at stuffing my emotions.



Then the line forms and the feed begins. Being by myself this time (Denise was puny and couldn't come), I chose to sit with my Uncle Punk, my Barber...



My cousin Peggi, and her family. You've seen her around here before. She's a sweetie.



As we killed one plate after another, Punk said something about how nobody could ever say the Wilson's couldn't cook. I replied with something like "Or eat ether." Everyone laughed.

After the feed, the crowd slowly drifts away, and the reunion comes to an end. Driving home, I decided to go by the cemetery and visit Dad. That's when the tears finally came. I tried to go visit mom then but she wasn't home, so I called the little woman and headed home.



By the evening, I was ready to snack again, so I nuked the last remnants of those two racks and Denise and I shared them. It was a good day, and there'll be many, many more to come. Cheers.

Y'all seen this?

Some interesting statistics on the Vietnam War.

In the event you have busy getting along with your life these past few decades since you returned from Vietnam, the clock has been ticking. The following are some statistics of interest...

"Of the 2,709,918 Americans who served in Vietnam; less than 850,000 are estimated to be alive today, with the youngest American Vietnam veteran's age approximated to be 54 years old."

Only 1/3 of all the U.S. Vets who served in Vietnam are still alive. This is the kind of information we are used to reading about WWII and Korean War vets. So for the last 14 years we have been dying too fast and, perhaps, only a few will survive by 2015...if any. If this is true, 390 Vietnam Vets die every day, on average. So in 2190 days from today, you're lucky to be a living Vietnam Veteran.....

The following statistics were taken from a variety of sources, including The VFW Magazine, the Public Information Office, and the Forward Observer

STATISTICS FOR INDIVIDUALS IN UNIFORM AND IN COUNTRY VIETNAM VETERANS:

* 9,087,000 military personnel served on active duty during the Vietnam Era (August 5, 1964 - May 7, 1975).

* 8,744,000 GIs were on active duty during the war (Aug 5, 1964-March 28,1973).

* 2,709,918 Americans served in Vietnam, this number represents 9.7% of their generation.

* 3,403,100 (Including 514,300 offshore) personnel served in the broader Southeast Asia Theater (Vietnam, Laos, Cambodia, flight crews based in Thailand and sailors in adjacent South China Sea waters).

* 2,594,000 personnel served within the borders of South Vietnam (Jan. 1,1965 - March 28, 1973). Another 50,000 men served in Vietnam between 1960 and 1964.

* Of the 2.6 million, between 1- and 1.6 million (40-60%) either fought in combat, provided close support or were at least fairly regularly exposed to enemy attack.

* 7,484 women (6,250 or 83.5% were nurses) served in Vietnam .

* Peak troop strength in Vietnam : 543,482 (April 30, 1968).

CASUALTIES:

The first man to die in Vietnam was James Davis, in 1958. He was with the 509th Radio Research Station. Davis Station in Saigon was named for him.

Hostile deaths: 47,378

Non-hostile deaths: 10,800

Total: 58,202 (Includes men formerly classified as MIA and Mayaguez casualties). Men who have subsequently died of wounds account for the changing total.

8 nurses died -- 1 was KIA..

61% of the men killed were 21 or younger..

11,465 of those killed were younger than 20 years old.

Of those killed, 17,539 were married.

Average age of men killed: 23.1 years

Enlisted: 50,274 22.37 years

Officers: 6,598 28.43 years

Warrants: 1,276 24.73 years

E1: 525 20.34 years

11B MOS(Infantry) : 18,465 22.55 years

Five men killed in Vietnam were only 16 years old.

The oldest man killed was 62 years old.

Highest state death rate: West Virginia - 84.1% (national average 58.9% for every 100,000 males in 1970).

Wounded: 303,704 -- 153,329 hospitalized + 150,375 injured requiring no hospital care.

Severely disabled: 75,000, -- 23,214: 100% disabled; 5,283 lost limbs; 1,081 sustained multiple amputations.

Amputation or crippling wounds to the lower extremities were 300% higher than in WWII and 70% higher than Korea .

Multiple amputations occurred at the rate of 18.4% compared to 5.7% in WWII.

Missing in Action: 2,338

POWs: 766 (114 died in captivity)

As of January 15, 2004, there are 1,875 Americans still unaccounted for from the Vietnam War.


DRAFTEES VS. VOLUNTEERS:

25% (648,500) of total forces in country were draftees. (66% of U.S. armed forces members were drafted during WWII).

Draftees accounted for 30.4% (17,725) of combat deaths in Vietnam .

Reservists killed: 5,977

National Guard: 6,140 served: 101 died.

Total draftees (1965 - 73): 1,728,344.

Actually served in Vietnam : 38% Marine Corps Draft: 42,633.

Last man drafted: June 30, 1973.

RACE AND ETHNIC BACKGROUND:

88.4% of the men who actually served in Vietnam were Caucasian; 10.6% (275,000) were black; 1% belonged to other races.

86.3% of the men who died in Vietnam were Caucasian (includes Hispanics);

12.5% (7,241) were black; 1.2% belonged to other races.

170,000 Hispanics served in Vietnam ; 3,070 (5.2% of total) died there.

70% of enlisted men killed were of Northwest European descent.

86.8% of the men who were killed as a result of hostile action were caucasian; 12.1% (5,711) were black; 1.1% belonged to other races.

14.6% (1,530) of non-combat deaths were among blacks.

34% of blacks who enlisted volunteered for the combat arms.

Overall, blacks suffered 12.5% of the deaths in Vietnam at a time when the percentage of blacks of military age was 13.5% of the total population.

Religion of Dead: Protestant -- 64.4%; Catholic -- 28.9%; other/none -- 6.7%

SOCIO-ECONOMIC STATUS:

Vietnam veterans have a lower unemployment rate than the same non-vet age groups.

Vietnam veterans' personal income exceeds that of our non-veteran age group by more than 18 percent.

76% of the men sent to Vietnam were from lower middle/working class backgrounds.

Three-fourths had family incomes above the poverty level; 50% were from middle income backgrounds.

Some 23% of Vietnam Vets had fathers with professional, managerial or technical occupations.

79% of the men who served in Vietnam had a high school education or better when they entered the military service. 63% of Korean War vets and only 45% of WWII vets had completed high school upon separation.

Deaths by region per 100,000 of population: South -- 31%, West --29.9%; Midwest -- 28.4%; Northeast -- 23.5%.

DRUG USAGE & CRIME:

There is no difference in drug usage between Vietnam Veterans and non-Vietnam Veterans of the same age group. (Source: Veterans Administration Study)

Vietnam Veterans are less likely to be in prison - only one-half of one percent of Vietnam Veterans have been jailed for crimes.

85% of Vietnam Veterans made successful transitions to civilian life.

WINNING & LOSING:

82% of veterans who saw heavy combat strongly believe the war was lost because of lack of political will.

Nearly 75% of the public agrees it was a failure of political will, not of arms.

HONORABLE SERVICE:

97% of Vietnam-era veterans were honorably discharged.

91% of actual Vietnam War veterans and 90% of those who saw heavy combat are proud to have served their country.

74% say they would serve again, even knowing the outcome.

87% of the public now holds Vietnam veterans in high esteem...

This is REALLY interesting...

INTERESTING CENSUS STATISTICS & THOSE TO CLAIM TO HAVE "Been There":

1,713,823 of those who served in Vietnam were still alive as of August,1995 (census figures).

During that same Census count, the number of Americans falsely claiming to have served in-country was: 9,492,958.

As of the current Census taken during August, 2000, the surviving U.S. Vietnam Veteran population estimate is: 1,002,511..losing nearly 711,000 between '95 and '00. That's 390 per day.

During this Census count, the number of Americans falsely claiming to have served in-country is: 13,853,027. By this census, FOUR OUT OF FIVE WHO CLAIM TO BE Vietnam vets are not.

The Department of Defense Vietnam War Service Index officially provided by The War Library originally reported with errors that 2,709,918 U.S. military personnel as having served in-country. Corrections and confirmations to this erred index resulted in the addition of 358 U.S. military personnel confirmed to have served in Vietnam but not originally listed by the Department of Defense. (All names are currently on file and accessible 24/7/365).

Isolated atrocities committed by American Soldiers produced torrents of outrage from anti-war critics and the news media while Communist atrocities were so common that they received hardly any media mention at all. The United States sought to minimize and prevent attacks on civilians while North Vietnam made attacks on civilians a centerpiece of its strategy. Americans who deliberately killed civilians received prison sentences while Communists who did so received commendations.

From 1957 to 1973, the National Liberation Front assassinated 36,725 Vietnamese and abducted another 58,499. The death squads focused on leaders at the village level and on anyone who improved the lives of the peasants such as medical personnel, social workers, and school teachers.

-
Nixon Presidential Papers.

Pffft, GEEKS!

Yep, I'm one too. HUGE. I got one of these for Denise's grandson. You remember a post a while back where I told you he'd sent a Christmas list to his Nanna? He wanted a couple of $800 custom made Airsoft guns. Well, I found this little dude for about $30. Figured it'd make the little dude happy. Sure enough...




Thing is, I "accidentally" ordered two of 'em. Seriously, I did. I must have screwed up the online order. They sent two, and I was gonna send the other one back. But then I thought, "Shit, it's only $30. It might be fun."

It is. Shoots these little plastic BBs at about 235 feet per, which is just enough to let you know you've been shot in the ass, but not enough to hurt. Has a select fire switch, with semi and full auto. It comes with a laser sight, a scope, and flashlight and a forward pistol grip. I opted to toss the fore-grip. That shit is only good for sprayin' lead (or plastic BBs) over your head. The little thumb lever for the laser sight goes on the left side of the front grip, which also holds the rechargeable battery.



Shit, it's even got a folding stock. Cool as hell. Wish I'd had one 40 years ago... But you're never too old to play with cool toys.

Next thing, I'll be online bidding on an old Major Matt Mason doll, er, Action Figure. Cheers!

Now that they're over, here's some of the funny bits.

It was my turn to cook last night.

I decided on pasta. It'd been a while since I cooked any.



Nope, not gonna divulge any secrets. Little bit of this, little bit of that. Ground turkey and Italian sausage, etc., etc., etc....



A fresh loaf of bread from the grocery store, cut, buttered and seasoned with garlic and paprika...



A sweet desert wine, Sister Creek Vinyards, Muscat Canelli, chilled in the fridge...



And all the while, one log after another loaded into the fireplace. It was drizzling rain and getting colder during the day. I knew Denise would be cold when she got home, and since I was there all day, why not enjoy a fire?

Denise called around 5:45, as she was leaving work. That was my signal to heat up the pasta and put the bread in the oven.



We both love these Rotini noodles. I put 'em in everything: soup, pasta, salad, etc.



Dust the plate with powdered Parmesan cheese and PRESTO... better than store bought, and easy as pie. The bread was good too, and the couch time.

Today, it was Denise's turn. She stayed home from work, puny,and cooked a wonderful stew in the crock pot. We'll have left-overs of both dinners for a while. I think I'll take some over to mom tomorrow. She'll love it.

Cheers!

Last week rocked, on so many levels.

First, there was the snow day. That was fun. Most of a day off and the joy of big fluffy flakes driftin' out of the sky. We don't see that too much around here.

Then there was a late start for Wednesday morning. After fighting traffic for a bit on the way out of town (EVERYONE went in late, so we had early morning gridlock at 10AM), I got to enjoy a rare chance to consume one of the best burgers in Christendom. Yes, you know it... The Jalapeno Sourdough Bread Bacon Cheeseburger from the Dairy Mart in San Saba.

After the delay in Killeen, I didn't manage to get to San Saba in time for a polite sit down, so I called them as I was drivin' into town and picked a burger and fries up at the drive-in window. I got to the jail by about 11:30AM, took the food in and ate it before my "students" arrived.

The next day, Thursday, I arrived down in Florence on time for class, but in stead of my usual group of Seniors, the Second Period Juniors were crowded around my door. Turns out it was Off-Campus Lunch Day for the Seniors. Their normal 30 minute lunch was extended to an hour and a half so they can drive to Roundrock and eat lunch "off campus".

Shit, back when I was a Senior, like 30 years ago, we'd eat lunch off campus every friggin' day. We'd race down Altamesa blvd. and crowd into the McDonald's. Some dudes would spike their Coke with the adult beverage of their choice and bring it back to school.

The surprise for me last Thursday was that I arrived to find that First Period had been canceled. We went straight into Second, and then Third, and I was outta there by 9:45... About an hour early.



So you know where I headed. No traffic issues this time. Two days in a row, and this time I had ample time for a nice sit down. Since I'd had fries the day before, this time I chose onion rings. Mmmmm, good.



Of course, the TV was on, set to Fox, for digestive purposes.



Yep, that's a double cheeseburger. And I didn't even ask for one. Nice huh? man, these things are good. You have no idea. if you ever get the chance, you'll find the Dairy Mart right across 190 from the Super-S food store. Don't get there late. They close at 2PM on most days (which is why I never get to go), but stay open later on Fridays. Enjoy!

After that I drove up to the jail and walked into work with my head held high. Life was good. I held my class, finishing up for the final exam, and then I hit the road. Tuesday and Thursday nights, I teach a few Government classes on Ft. Hood, so that's where I was headed.



As per usual, I took out a cigar, slobbered on the end a bit, pulled out the cutter and blazed up. It's wonderful, with the radio blaring and the sunroof open, to enjoy a good cigar while I'm flyin' down the road. I guess it helps the time go by. This one was a Joya De Nicaragua, Antano Dark Carojo. It's not for the weak. Usually, after killin' one on the way to wherever, I'm feelin' it when I get out of the car and try to walk somewhere. Strong, but good.



This time, on a whim, I used a punch cutter. Don't ya love it when you've taken a good drag on one... You take it out of your mouth, hold the smoke for a bit and then let it go slowly through the sunroof? Then you look down, and there's still a little smoke wafting out of the cut end. Love it.



When I got to Ft. Hood and started circling the lot, lookin' for a space, I saw a soldier with a bumper sticker that I felt I needed to show ya. I find some hilarious stuff on base. True wisdom.



The college just opened up a new building for us to teach in. It's a really nice place, but it'll be even nicer when the administrators get all the bells and whistles working properly. This time next year, maybe, it'll be totally up and running.



About half way through my first class, a student walked in and handed me a package. I told him I didn't have any money to pay him, to which he replied "Don't worry about it. Next week."

I looked out at my class, smiled and told them "OK, it's not weed." They all laughed, and the class went on.



The classroom I teach in is a very nice one that holds about 40 students. It's got a projector hanging from the ceiling, and a screen that rolls down from the ceiling when I punch a button. It's got Internet connections, and a connection that will allow me to connect my laptop to the system and show web sites or DVDs to the class. It WILL do that, in about a year. Yea, much of the technology isn't turned on yet. It's gonna take time, but eventually the place will be very cool.



My second class ended around 9:30PM, and I headed off to the warmth of my hearth and home. Yep, I left home at 7:30 in the morning and got back at about 9:45PM. That's my life. Hell, it pays good, or I wouldn't be doin' it.

This week is gonna be comparatively easy. The finals being given, the semester is over in San Saba, so I don't have to go there this week. I got out of Florence at 10:40 this morning and headed home. Tomorrow, I'll have a five hour break between Florence and Ft. Hood. Wednesday, due to TASP testing in Florence (a standardized test the Juniors take), I don't have to go down there at all. I'll sleep inn and have the whole day off. Thursday will be just like Tuesday, and then Friday will be like today. Easy peasy.



Spendin' all this time at home this week will give me a chance to enjoy our new TV. We've been lookin' around foir a year or so. Finally decided on 47' LG. 1080, 120, LCD, etc. It's purdy, ain't it. And when i go tit hooked up last night, what did I find on TCM? Ben Hur. Sheeeit, I got to watch it on a big screen. Love it.

So, it's gonna be a good week. You guys enjoy the rest of your Monday toil (well, everyone but the retirees), and we'll do this again in a spell. I'm headed to the grocery store for Spaghetti fixin's. That's right. My wowman is off at work, so I'm the kitchen bitch this week. It'll be fun. Y'all come, if you can figure out where I am. Cheers!

Check this guy out.