Another Friday.

Pooped today. Was draggin' my ass and down in the dumps this mornin' after a long night of fun and early morning with no sleep. Ok, it was a good tired, well earned, and the day has been much better since then. Got wrapped around the axle early on, thinking about good friends and amazing adventures that I'll never get to have. I pissed my youth away being a fool, or a coward, and now I'm paying the price, but that's cool. Hell, I put a buck in the coke machine this afternoon and the stupid thing gave me two Dr Peppers! probably should go buy a lottery ticket.

Takin' dad to eat Chinese later, and then I'll be back here with friends, and the squeeze, and her family of wild-assed Brits, watching our friends play pool and maybe later, working a few more things out. While you're here, be sure and check out this Friday tradition. It's a great set today. Maybe post somethin' later. More pictures of the old man or somethin'. Have a great Friday, and a great weekend. Cheers.

Q&A time, and another Friday trip to Dynasty.

Recently went over to the Shrinkwrapped Scream, and read a post she wrote answering questions put to her by another blogger. Kind of a meme, but different. Her answers were great. She said if anyone was game, to speak up and send her a comment. I did, and she emailed me these questions.

My job now is to answer her questions and then pass this thing on to anyone who desires to be grilled. So, here we go. My answers are in blue. Her first question:

1) Let's begin with a little background. I know you grew up as a military brat. Did that mean your father was often absent? If so, what impact, if any, did it have upon family dynamics? Were you closer to anyone in particular there? On average, what was the longest time you stayed in one house? Did you ever get boarded? If so, did you enjoy that experience?

Holy shit! Is that all one fuckin' friggin' question? Ok, first of all, my dad was in the Air Force, so we went where he went. If he'd been in the Navy or Merchant Marine, or if he'd gone to Vietnam, we would have had long periods without him, but the way things were, he basically had a 9 to 5 job. He drove to the base in the morning and then home for dinner in the evening. We just lived in a foreign country while some of this was going on. Mom ran the house and took care of us, and dad was the bread winner. They saw it as a partnership, and it mostly worked out well.

We lived in England from 67 to 70, but the rest was in the US, in places like Nebraska, Missouri, and Texas. I was born in Bermuda, at the Kinley Air Force Base hospital, in 1960. My sister was born in England, during my families first tour there in the early '50s.

Longest time we were anywhere during dads career was maybe 3 years. Then, after he retired, we spent 18 years in Ft. Worth, living on the southwest side of town.

I guess I was closer to mom as a kid, but really, I don't remember being too close to any of them. I was a loner, in my room most of the time, in my own world. We were (my sis and I) just beginning to get the hang of living there, making friends, when we were picked up and moved to Missouri. Starting over was rough, but that was our life.

Some people deal with that by learning to be more gregarious and outwardly fun loving (sis) and some by shutting into themselves (me). Got used to living that way, and I'm only now trying to learn how to work my way out of it. No boarding schools for me, but it might have been a good thing.

2) An extension of no.1 really. What is your adult relationship like with your family? Do you all live near to each other? How did you choose to settle where you did? Are you settled, or can you see yourself living elsewhere at some point?

We've been through a lot together, the Wilson clan, and we're still a tight little unit. Sis jokes about how no one else is allowed in, trying to explain why nether of us have been able to have much of a successful social life. She left home at 19, getting away from the folks in a rage over stuff that seems stupid now, but I got along with the folks pretty well.

I was in school or working most of the time, and did my own cooking and cleaning, laundry included, but I stayed at home till I was about 30. I lived at home through college and grad school, and then got the job in March of '90, living and working on Navy ships that were deployed around the world, but all my stuff was still with Mom and Dad.

I loved the hell out of that job. Sailed or flew around the world several times, seeing a war and a lot of other eye opening things. I grew up a hell of a lot in the process. When my folks decided in the summer of '93 to move from Ft. Worth to Temple, to be close to my ailing maternal Grandmother, they moved all my stuff there too. I looked into teaching on the base here while I was between cruises, went out on one more ship, and then started teaching on Ft. Hood part time in January of '94.

Lived with the folks while I made car payments on the new Jeep (was makin' about 16 or 18 grand a year then), payin' it off as quick as I could, and then moved out in the summer of '97 to go back to school in San Marcos, to get qualified to teach more classes. Been out of their house since then, but still see them all the time. Take Dad to eat Chinese food every Friday night, and see Mom on Fridays and usually on the weekend.

After staying away for a long time, Sis has moved closer to be near the folks as they get older, and she and I are still single. I'll be here, teachin' on Ft. Hood, as long as they are alive. When they both go, It'll be a wrenching experience, breaking a connection that is basic to my existence, but I've grown pretty strong since I flew off to Naples on that first teaching job, and I know I'll make it through, with the help of good friends. Then, who knows? Think some times about selling everything and going out on the ships again. Seeing the world again. Who knows?

3) What was your first paid job? What did you see yourself doing when you first left school? What are you doing now, and what would be your dream job? Oh, one more (I can fit as many sub-questions as I like in here, we're playing by my rules now, my friend) did you ever follow in your fathers footsteps and join the military, and if not, why not?

My first paying Job? I had a job at a local Revco drug store in high school, and then one at the Seminary South Cinema in Ft. Worth. Nether lasted too long. I was a scared little puppy, and didn't deal well with crowds or anything else back then. I made some money for a while mowing lawns, and then I started getting VA money in college, from Dad's retirement pension, and that allowed me to avoid the inevitoble for a while.

Then I found out about a tour to the Soviet Union, run out of the Russian language department at UTA (I took Russian in school). My folks told me if I wanted to go, I'd have to get a job and raise the $2000 myself. I found a great job through a buddy as a security guard at an oil company named Gearhart Industries, off I-35 on the south side of Ft. Worth. Put the VA money in the bank along with most of the money that Gearhart payed me. I kept that job for years. They basically payed me to sit and study, and drive a cool old LTD around the place and jam.

Loved the midnight shift that first year. Cool nighttime temps in the Texas summers, and very few people to mess with ya. Eventually I went on that tour, and spent 5 weeks in Europe, including 2 1/2 weeks in the Soviet Union (summer of '83). When I got back, I moved to the 4-12 shift. I learned a lot about other people, and myself, in those years. Had that job till the place went under during the oil glut of the mid '80s. Still see the place every time I drive up I-35 to Ft. Worth to see friends. Lots of good memories there.

A little while later, while I was in grad school, I got a job as a night shift security guard at the Colonial Country Club. That place was a trip, I wanna tell ya. Rich people are crazy, and a huge pain in the ass. Had the keys to all the walk-ins and was there all night, mostly by myself. Perfect job for a fat hairy shut-in. I started working out at a gym while I worked there, and while I finished grad school. I lost a lot of weight and got stronger, and felt a bit better about myself, actually had a girlfriend for a while, but nothing came of it. I still mostly stayed to myself, and didn't let her get close. I missed out on a lot of fun in my 20s and 30s, because I was so painfully shy. Wish I knew the hell why, but there's no going back and fixing it.

When I got my Masters in History, I put out a lot of resumes, trying to get a job teaching History at a community college. After about a year, the folks at Central Texas College called, wanting me to fly off to Naples, Italy and get on a destroyer, the USS Thorn. Scared the piss out of me, but I did it anyway. I almost turned around and flew home half way through the trip over, but made myself do it, and ended up having a great time. I loved the hell out of that job. It changed my life. I felt real confidence for the first time. Felt like a grown-up for the first time. Think I got real respect from my father for the first time.

Today I teach History and Government for Central Texas College and Tarleton State University. I'm still officially part-time, but get all the benefits of a full time teacher, and make as much money, or more, than a full time professor. Just have to teach more classes to do it. As far as my dream job, It'd probably be the one I have now, only makin' a LOT more money and workin' a lot less. Well, ether that or playin' slide guitar in a blues band, or piano in a cat house.

And no, I never joined the military, though I did do two years in ROTC in college. If I had it to do over again, 18 again, being the man I am now, I think I'd enjoy the hell out of it. The kid I was back then though, they'd a eaten me alive. I'm a very different person now.

4) Who was your first love, how old were you, how did you meet, are you still together, and if not, why? When was the last time you saw her?

Back in England, just before we were sent home to the states, I began to come out of my shell a bit. Had a few friends, and some of them were horny as hell. I was in a strip club for a while; little kids (8 or 9 years old), goin' out in the woods and showing the others what we had. Show and tell. One girl, don't remember her name, showed us everything, and we hit it off. We crawled into a bush once or twice and rubbed asses, not knowin' what the hell we were doin'. I think If we'd stayed in England for another few years, I might have lost it in about the 5th or 6th grade. Those girls were crazy. Her mom found out about it all and I never saw her again.

Anyway, a while later, just before we left town, my heart was broken by the little girl next door. Her name was Marsha. I hung out with her for a long time and we did everything together, till one day I saw her with another girl, sitting on the grass, watching the other kids play ball. I walked up to her and tried to talk to her, but she just flat out told me that she wasn't going to play with me any more. I was stunned. I went back the house, climbed to the top of the wooden fence that separated our yards, and I cried my eyes out.

Her dad came out and asked me what was wrong, and I told him "Marsha doesn't love me any more." I was fucking destroyed. He didn't say much. Turned around and walked back in the house. My mom told me later that she suspected that her folks had told her to stop playing with me. Didn't want their little Catholic daughter getting to close to the Protestant kid next door. Shit, I didn't know one from the other, but I think I learned to stay to myself from then on. Being out there was too painful.

Believe it or not, that was it for romance. We moved to Missouri, and I went back in my shell. We moved a few more times, and I think I missed out on whatever stage of socialization that teaches you how to relate to others and be a normal human being. In stead I learned how to fake it, and got pretty good at it. Still tryin' to work my way out of all that crap today, with the help of some friends. It's the one thing I still have left to learn about being a fully human being.

Met someone recently; British, ex service wife, administrator at the college. She's a bit older, but still very well preserved. Sweet as hell, and smart. Found out tonight we have the same birthday! What the hell are the odds of that? We'll see what happens.

5) Money is no object, you have given to the charities and causes you support, what do you want to do with the rest of your life?

If I didn't have to work, and could do anything? Dude, the fish would all be in sooooo much trouble. I'd do nothing but travel the world, fishing and canoing, and seeing friends.

I'd rent one of those huge yachts and pay for all my blogger buds to sail to Alaska, or Fiji, or wherever.

I'd buy about 500 acres on the edge of a national park in northeast New Mexico and live like a king. Live simple, self-sustaining, off the grid, but very well. I'd have a place in the Hill Country of Texas too, and Alaska. Damn, I can spend imaginary money like a fool.

Seriously, I'd probably get a PhD in History just for the hell of it, and then spend the rest of my life taking care of my friends. We'd do all the stuff we ever dreamed of doing, and I'd pay the bills. What the hell else is money for?

Well, that's more crap about me than anyone ever needed to know. Question is, do YOU want to be interviewed?

Interview rules:

1. Leave me a comment saying “Interview me.”

2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Ok folks, who's on first?

Well, It's Friday, so you know what I'll be doing tonight. I'll take dad out to eat Chinese, visit with mom for a while, and then probably look up that new friend. New wrinkle on the old routine. It'll take some getting used to, but I think I can handle it.

Well, I guess the whole class scedule bugaboo will be ok after all.

The college reps on the base want everything to work out, and the kids don't give a damn about the unconventional way it's going down, so I'm sure it'll all come out smooth as shit.

How did all this happen? Basically, the new guy who is running the Political Science department talked to me several months ago about teaching for them again. The last classes I had for them went down about a year ago. I had one class on the main campus that lasted about 16 weeks, a conventional semester, and another on base that lasted 8 weeks. The 8 week ones are concentrated, containing the same number of contact hours as a 16 week class, but lasting half the time. It was a class in constitutional law, which is always a blast to teach. Lots of interesting topics and heated class discussions.

The top twerps on the main campus across the highway were looking for a new guy to head up the department back then, wanting to hire some new PhD in the field so they could get some graduate classes started. This local campus is still playing catch up and trying to establish itself, trying to keep from having it's funding killed by the real main campus in Stevenville. When they found a contender, they brought this little twerp into my class in the last week of that 8 week semester, while I was giving final exams, and auditioned him in front of my students. Next thing I know this guy is being given all the old classes I used to teach and they didn't need my services any more. That was a year ago. Imagine my surprise when this guy calls me and asks me what classes I want to teach and when. I was totally taken aback.

He'd found that he needed someone to teach a few extra classes, and the old guy who used to schedule them sent him my way. I taught a mini term a few weeks back, between the regular semesters, and then the regular 8 week semester began last week, on the 29th. According to the talk I'd had months earlier (and I wrote this stuff down so I know what he told me), this 8 weeks I'd be teaching a class on State and Local Government, and the next 8 weeks, August to October, I'd teach a class on the Executive Branch. It was clear cut, so I told the CTC folks when I'd be available to teach for them, and they set up the rest of my schedule to fit everything together. A week or so before the semester began, I found out that the TSU class would be prorated. I'd get less money to teach it due to low enrollment, but I was willing to go along with that just to have a little extra money coming in.

So, I started the semester thinking all was well. Normal stuff; classes every day from 11:30 to 12:30, 12:30 to 1:30, and then evening classes for CTC from 4:45 to 7pm and 7:30 to 10pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and a class for TSU from 4:45 to 7pm on Mondays and Wednesdays. Because of the holiday on Monday for memorial Day, The semester began on Tuesday. I'm about 20 minutes into my 4:45 CTC class, the first half of US History, talkin' about Columbus or somethin' like that, when the TSU rep on Ft. Hood comes knockin' at the door with a big smile on his face, tellin' me that I've got a class I'm supposed to be in in another room.

I'm totally shocked. I tell my folks to take a break and I go down there and sure enough, there's 4 students there waiting on me (4 of the 6 that are enrolled). I take down everyone's name and email and head back to the other class. The TSU rep is takin' it in stride. He just wants the class taught, and doesn't really care how I do it. He starts tellin' me that I can turn it into an online class or somethin'. I'm too pissed off and stunned to think, so I go back to my other class and sink myself into the comfort of familiar things; the Age of Exploration, the Black Death, the rise of the Nation State, and all that sort of crap. I'm thinkin', how the hell could this happen? How the hell could I have let this happen? Did I assume things that were false, or was there some sort of miscommunication? The main campus across the road is clueless about it all, and the TSU rep couldn't care a less, so I have to make up a way for this all to work out.

Later I find out that since there are only 6 students in each class, the college is going to re categorize them as Independent Study courses. That's to say, a graduate style course where students do work on their own and write papers for their grades. I've done a few of those classes, and they are always fun. Apparently there's a state rule about classes with fewer than so many students in them being unaccredited unless they are set them up this way. It's cool with me, but they still expect me to teach them as conventional classes. Well, that isn't going to happen. One will be taught that way, but the conflicted one is gonna mostly be online. I'll have them email me 4 short papers on topics in the chapters and one 10 to 15 page research paper. They'll study review materials in the chapters they read, and I'll set up times for them to take their midterm and final exams. If the fools on the main campus stay clueless, we'll all slide through this like pros.

of course, it could all blow up in my face at any moment, so I'll have no excuse to be bored this 8 weeks. Paydays should be rockin' though, and there's a few good gun shows comin' up.

On a lighter note, I went to the Great Wall Cafe today for lunch after my classes got out at 1:30, and took more pictures with the Razor of sinfully good Chinese food. Don't want you to get away without feeling a few pangs.



That's two dinner orders for lunch. A huge pile of shrimp fried rice on the right, with plump shrimpy goodness throughout, and General Tso's chicken on the left, with no broccoli thank you very much. There will be no green food to distract me from my mission. I eat about half of it, or maybe a third of it for lunch, and then take the rest home for dinner or lunch another day. It travels well. Hell, I may get up early Wednesday and have it for breakfast.

Anyway, I hope all your weeeks are less complicated than mine, and all your plans work out for ya. Cheers.

I finally figured out how to get the pictures off my phone and on to my hard drive,

so I can show you more pictures of mom's chicken and ice cream. I know, here we go again. Hey, it's an institution OK. Ya can't argue with an institution. Actually, I went over there tonight to have Memorial Day dinner with the folks, and forgot my camera, so I had to take these shots with the razor. I touched them up a bit, but I can't believe this phone can actually take nice shots. So, if you're not familiar with the ritual, Mom cooks the chicken...



And makes sure the ice cream mix is ready when I get there. My job is to arrive on time with a big bag of ice, set the ice cream container with the mix inside into bucket, fill it with Ice and get the thing going.



You pour the ice into the thing on each side and add salt periodically. All very complicated and technical. Here's a shot of mom adding a bit of salt after I got the thing going.



You've got to watch the thing to make sure it stays full of ice, and see to it that the water doesn't overflow into the ice cream mix. Eventually the ice cream thickens and the motor winds down till it automatically shuts off. Then, take the motor off the top, pull the ice cream container out of the ice, and pop the tip.



The end result is well worth the effort. I know, you've seen it all before. That's OK, You don't need to eat any of this. VERY fattening. Really bad for ya. That's OK, I'll take your share.



Ha! You know, as much as I go on and on about this stuff, you'd think we have it all the time, but we really don't. Only about five or six times a year. There's always a lot left over. Too bad you guys couldn't be there. OK, I'll stop.

As far as the other shots off the phone are concerned...



Here's a great shot of dad and their new little yippy dog. Total lap schnauzer. The pooch ran away from the neighbors across the street and my folks took her in. The neighbors are cool with it. Not a Pug, but she's a sweetie.



Here's a shot of dad at the Chinese food place we go to every Friday. Now that I know how to use this thing, I'll be able to post all sorts of things off the cuff. Should be fun. You'll get to see actually how boring and predictable my life has become.

New classes begin tomorrow, and I'll be busy again, but no early mornings for a while. Can't wait. Love the job. A whole new batch of young minds to corrupt. It's a living. Well, I hope everyone had a great weekend. Cheers.

Here's some real wisdom.

Not contrived. Born of a life fully lived. Like some of the films and books we all grew up loving, written by people who had lived through real shit. Born of experience, from the generation that knew the Depression close up, that fought "The Good War" for freedom and justice, and then lived to see it all pissed away in the name of safety and propriety. Here's Bono reading Charles Bukowski's poem "roll the dice".



I wish I'd known some of these things back when it could have counted for something. "Youth is wasted on the young", some other wise ass said. I wish a lot of things a lot of the time. Dads got a saying about that though... Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which hand fills up first. More old time wisdom. Says it all. I can't stop wishin' though. Too many regrets. Too many dreams about do-overs that I'll never get. I guess, if you ketch on, those thoughts are like lessons learned, so we don't pass things up if they come by again. Then again, sometimes you need a slap to the face to wake you up and get yer attention.

Dad and I had another good outing last Friday night, but ended up not hittin' golf balls after all. He was hungry and didn't want to go before we ate (or maybe he was sore from the last time), and we were both too bloated to do it after we ate, so we blew it off. I was wired and would have enjoyed the catharsis of hitting a bucket. I'd witnessed a bad car accident right in front of me in the minutes before getting to mom and dads place, and I was still pumped from the adrenaline hours later.

I was driving down a four lane, strait thoroughfare, from I-35 to 31st street on the south side of Temple. I'm chuggin' along in traffic, goin' about 50ish (in the flow and not really watchin' the speedometer) when I see an SUV in the oncoming lane hitting the brakes and making a violent lurch to the right, overcompensating to the left, hurling himself into our lane right in front of the SUV that's driving about three car lengths in front of me. Brakes are burnin' all over the place, including mine.

The people in front of me jerked over to the right to try to avoid hitting the car that had now turned back to the right, and was sliding sideways into us, just about to start a roll-over. If the folks in front of me had been a bit quicker they'd have missed the oncoming mess completely and the bastard would have rolled sideways over me, but it wasn't meant to be. They smashed bumpers, with the rear left hand bumper of the one hitting the right front bumper of the folks in front of me. I end up driving through a cloud of tiny plastic shards, like one of those films you see of a WW2 fighter plane flying through the exploding remains of an ammo train or a "Buzz Bomb".

They both limped off away to the left of the road, out of my way, and I slowly rolled by, thinking how lucky I'd been to avoid it all, and not to have been slammed into from behind as we all broke in a panic. Meanwhile, my life is flashing in front of my eyes, which is enough to bore most people to death, and I'm seeing images of this bastard rolling over me and fucking my nice little car all to hell. The one SUV is behind me somewhere, and the folks that had been in front of me are stopped on the other side of the road, their left front smashed and leaking fluids, and smoke filling the cab. I see immediately that they are moving, getting out of the car and that about a half dozen other cars are stopping to give assistance, so I waited a moment, thought about stopping, and then rolled on and counted my blessings. In a minute, as my head was clearing, I thought to call 911 and report it all. I probably should have stopped, but I hate to be in a situation like that when I feel like I'm one of a bunch of people trying to help, and feeling like I'm just in the way.

So, I was pumped with adrenaline there for a while and flinching behind the wheel the rest of the night. Nothing like seeing something like that right in front of you to wake you up and get your attention. After eating and visiting with the folks, I headed home, and as I'm driving west on that same road towards I-35, I note that the sky is darkening as I go. Turns out I'm driving into a friggin' wall cloud with lightning flashing all over. I'm thinkin', "what the hell else is gonna happen to me tonight?" As I head west on 190 I look up at the edge of the cloud and see these tendrils dipping down, and I think to myself "if these things start spinning I'm fucked". Lightning is flashing a few times about a quarter of a mile down the road, and it looks like it's actually hitting the road. Jesus!

I got home ok, and then it rained like crazy, and the folks from here up to Ft. Worth got rain, bad wind and hail, and we got about an inch and a half or rain. We were lucky and missed the bad stuff. I slept in Saturday, and blew the day piddling around the house and napping (NOT pulling weeds). Sunday I headed up to Gatesville and shot guns with a buddy. I tried to sight in that new Romanian .22 rifle. It turned out to be a huge pain in the ass, misfeeding about every other time for a while and not ejecting correctly, and then working fine for a while. Frustrating as hell. My buddy shot his old Russian SKS and an old AR-15 that looks like the rifle the guys in 'Nam used. We had a good time, and then I drove down 36 to eat dinner at mom and dads. Mom made beef stew and cornbread, to die for, and I worked on their garage door, which had been giving them trouble since someone fucked with it the day before. It was off the rail. Quick fix and it was running like new.

I floated the idea to dad about going to hit golf balls, but he declined again. Don't know what the deal is. He used to always go on and on when I didn't want to do it, but now he's reluctant. Well, he was probably just tired or something, or maybe the one time we did it was so depressing for him that he's changed his mind. So, on the way home I stopped at a driving range off 190 and hit a bucket by myself. I guess I've talked myself into wanting to do it, but now he doesn't. This is our relationship in a microcosm. Frustrating.

So now I'm watching American Choppers and relaxing before the week starts again. I hope all your weekends were a lot less dramatic, and that you all avoided the ridiculous weather, and that you enjoyed old Charlie's poem. Marquisdejolie turned me on to Bukowski in a few of his poetic rants. You should check him out some time. Anyway, I'm outta here. Later.

I think this has something for the whole family.

Ok, It's a friggin' CRIME to wreck an old TA like that. Criminal!

Gonna have dinner with dad again tonight, and now that the snow has melted we've added a new wrinkle to our normal Friday routine. Before we go to the Chinese food place, we go to the local driving range. He watches me as I hit a bucket of balls, and he hits a few and gives me little lessons and hints to help my swing. After that, having worked up and appetite (like that's necessary) we go hit the buffet line.

Dad was a huge golfer when I was growing up and he's wanted to get me to like the game ever since I can remember. He was taught to play in Germany right after WW2. He says this German POW showed him how to hit correctly in a large derelict opera hall. It was a rich mans game back then, and I think my dad, the son of a tenant framer, saw golf, and being an Army officer (eventually in the Air Force) as a path out of his old life. He became a shark on the golf course, and played all the time, as long as I can remember. He made me a cut down driver when I was very little, and still tells me and everyone else that I had a natural swing when I was a kid. I don't know. I never have felt comfortable in that swing. Can't feel it well enough to be able to feel like I know what I'm doing, if you know what I mean.

I was always more into archery as a kid. Used to watch all those old movies about medieval times, and always wanted to be Robin Hood, or the guy shooting arrows out of the arrow loops in the castle, or the guy in the formation at Agincourt, shooting arrows up into the air into the French army formations. When we moved to Missouri in 1970 I found other kids there who loved it too, and we'd shoot arrows into anything. That place was paradisaical. We'd stand at one end of the field that stretched out through and connected averyone's back yard and shoot arrows into the air, just to watch them fly and see how far they'd go. There was an old tree in the woods there that we'd shoot arrows into, rotted and missing half it's bark.

We got a huge amount of enjoyment out of walking down the trail, pretending to be surprised by a bear or something, and then shooting arrows into that old tree. They would always make a cool thud as they hit it. We'd cross over the creek and pull them out, and then go through the ritual again. We called it the elephant tree. I think I'd seen an illustration in National Geographic showing Alexander the Great defeating the Indian Army elephants by filling them with arrows. That Image is still in my head.

Never forget looking at my first issue of Bowhunter magazine, picked up at the local T.G.& Y., and seeing that there was a world out there where adults shot arrows, and it wasn't silly kids stuff, as my folks always seemed to think. We moved away from that house and into base housing before we moved back to Texas, and mom and dad told me that I couldn't have the bows and arrows on the base. It all had to be put away. Seems like they were always tryin' to get me to do that. They didn't value it, and saw it as kids stuff. Wanted me to give it up and grow up and play football or somethin'. I don't think the gear made it into the moving van. It was like closing a book on a huge part of my childhood.

Next time I picked up a bow was about five years later in San Antonio. I tried to shoot someone else's arrow into a neighbors tree only about 10 yards away, a shot that I would have easily been able to make earlier, and I missed it. Shocked the hell out of me. I guess I accepted that it was over then. There weren't any woods to play in there, and I'd lost whatever talent I'd had, but dad was still there wanting me to play golf with him. Maybe refusing was my way of getting back at him, or my way of differentiating myself from him. Same thing went with other sports too. He never could get me interested in anything, and I could never get them to take anything I loved seriously. You'd think I was switched at birth or something.

I finally relented and started playing golf back in the late 1980s while I was in graduate school and worked at the Colonial Country Club in Ft. Worth. Most of the other employees played, and they got to play the course once a year. I guess I picked up the interest vicariously, listening to them talk around the club, wanting to be included and play the club myself. Dad was beside himself. He made me a set of clubs and I started practicing and playing. Loved it, but never got too good at it. Then, when I got the job teaching on the ships, and was gone all the time, I never had a chance to practice. When I did play, I was always loosing balls and feeling like an idiot when I hit a lousy shot. Never seemed to take to it the way I did archery as a kid. Never became easy and effortless the way archery had. It sucks too, because it's no longer a rich mans game. Hell, everyone plays golf now.

Anyway, Dads old as hell now and can't hit the ball very far anymore. Depresses the hell out of him, but he's always asking me when we're gonna go hit some balls. For a long time I'd think to myself "How many times did you take me to shoot arrows, you old jackass? When did you ever show interest in anything I wanted to do?" But he's old as hell now, and it seems wrong to be petty about it, to hold the crap from the past against him. so I finally decided a few weeks ago to start taking him to the range, incorporating it into our Friday routine. Weather permitting, we'll go out there and I'll let him give me hints. I doubt that I'll learn anything, but he'll enjoy it, and that's what matters now.

I'm also supposed to go shooting (guns) this weekend in Gatesville, so I'll be able to sight in the new .22 rifle and maybe shoot Civil War muskets. I've evolved from arrows to bullets (another thing my dad's not into), but I still have archery in my blood. One of these days I'll post pictures of the sets I've built. It's a fun hobby now and then, when I'm not busy with other things. So, enjoy your Friday and take care of yourselves. Ya know I will.

Ok dammit, It's Easter and it's friggin' snowing in Texas.

You can't really tell from these shots, but it's cold as hell here, in the 30s, and snowing. The neighbors told me it was gonna get this cold last night but I didn't believe 'em. Figured they were off their meds or somethin'.



I'm gonna have to refrain from yard work this weekend. An act of God? Could be.



The snow makes the thistles in the back yard almost look festive.



And why not take the opportunity to start a last blaze in the fire place for 2007. Weatherman says it'll be back in the 80s here by Tuesday or Wednesday, so I'll enjoy it while it lasts. Just took some chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. Mom's plannin' chicken and dressing for dinner Sunday. Life is good. Hope you all have a great, cozy Easter weekend.

Aaaaa, cozy in front of the fire, dreaming of springtime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update: It's still snowin', and it's supposed to be in the 50s tomorrow. What the hell?



Just woke up from a nap and looked out and it's still blowin'. It's been YEARS since we've had this sort of snow, and it's FRIGGIN' APRIL! I haven't turned the heater on. Just steadily burnin' wood in the fireplace and enjoyin' all the winter vibes. The farmers have got to be pissed, and all the beautiful bluebonnets that've bloomed are gonna go tits up, but I'm loven' it. Stay warm folks. It'll be over before you know it.

Another little musical interlude.

These guys are the '60s to me, along with the Beatles and the Doors. You hear some music and, like a smell, it takes you right back to a time and place. My family was living in England in the late 60s; my dad absorbed in his Air Force career, my mom homesick and usually not much good to me, my older sister having a great time (the best time of her life, she says), and me in my room, listening to the record player, daydreaming and reading the encyclopedia or classic comics instead of doing school work. Enjoy.

Another little musical interlude.

I always wondered if there was a real story behind this tune. I guess there was. Live in New York in 1973. They just don't make kick ass music like this any more. Enjoy.

Alright dammit, this is top secret family shit, so take notes. This tape will self distruct in 5 minutes.

First Mr Phelps, lets talk chicken. Buy whatever pieces you like to eat. I'm partial to dark meat (don't go there). Whatever you get should be skinless. Bones are Ok, but they sell boneless, skinless pieces now (breasts and thighs) and those are a lot more convenient to eat.

Yer gonna marinade these pieces over night in the fridge. Mom's traditional recipe calls for washing the pieces and then salting them down generously. She can't say how much. It's one of those trial and error things where she learned from her mom, who learned from her mom. Salt it down good and leave it in the fridge over night. Personally, I think you could exchange the salt for any sort of strong seasoning that you like. I've marinated the stuff in Italian dressing or BBQ sauce, and I think it was pretty good. Just not the same as moms. Another thing, use kosher salt rather than the stuff we all grew up with. It has a much better flavor, and you won't have to use as much.

When the time comes to cook it, you'll need a can of condensed milk, a few eggs, more seasoning, and a pan of flour. You mix a few egg yokes into the milk in a dish (not the white, but the yoke only), and season the flour with pepper and whatever else you like (Mom puts more salt). Heat up your oil to a pretty high level. If the oil isn't hot enough the chicken will take forever to cook and impart an oily taste to the food.



When I was growing up, mom used to cook everything in a skillet. When they started coming out with these little Fry Daddies, she fell in love with them. She's tried big industrial looking fryers with baskets that you dip down into the oil, but she says these little things work the best. They prevent you from putting too many pieces in the oil at once, which apparently leads to an oily taste in the food. Takes too much heat out of the oil when you put them in and forces you to leave the pieces in the oil longer, or somethin'.

Now here's the serious shit: Take a piece of chicken out of the marinade (DO NOT wash off the marinade), dip it in the flour and give it a decent covering. Shake off the excess, and then dip it into the whipped milk/egg mixture. Now, dip it back in the flour and press it in, giving it a good covering. You can see in the shot above that she leaves the pieces in the flour till they are ready to fry. Fry them till they are golden brown, and then take them out, lay them on a paper towel and let them cool a bit. When you bite into this stuff, I swear to God, if you've done it right, you'll experience something akin to nirvana. The Buddha himself would have got his ass up and taken on a carnivorous nature if his momma had known how to cook this stuff. He'd a put on some real pounds then. If you do it right, you'll end up with somethin' like this.



Ok, now for the ice cream. Here's the ingredients: 9 - 10 eggs, whipped in a blender, 2 quarts of half and half, 1 or 2 cans of Eagle Brand sweetened milk, 1 large box of instant vanilla Jello pudding, 1 large box of peach or strawberry Jello (depending on what sort of ice cream you're making), fruit pieces (peaches or strawberries, or whatever other ingredients you want), cut up and whipped in the blender. This part is up to you. If you want to have big pieces of fruit in the ice cream, then don't whip it as thoroughly. Finally, add 1 cup of sugar. Sweeten it to taste. Up to you.

Ok, mix most of this stuff in the blender, adding the fruit a little at a time until it's liquefied. Add the sweetened milk with regular milk to fill the blender (half at a time). Once it's liquefied, empty it into a mixing bowl and begin again. Make enough to fill your ice cream maker to about two inches from the top. It'll expand a bit in the freezing process.



Pour the mixture into the ice cream container, place it in the bucket, making sure it sits properly on the little spindle at the bottom of the bucket. Attach the lid and the motor, and start filling the bucket with ice and rock salt. You want to make sure you don't let the salty runoff from this process get into the ice cream. THAT shit will ruin your day. Most if not all the buckets have a hole to allow only a certain water level to prevent this, but you can still accidentally get some salt on the top of the ice cream if you open the can prematurely. So be careful. Run the ice cream maker till it stops turning on its own.

If you have a cheap machine, you might experience a problem with the ice cream next to the side of the can freezing and stopping the paddles, stripping the gears of the machine. In this case, the machine never stops. While the ice cream next to the ice freezes, the mixture on the inside never does. If that happens, you're not totally screwed. You can take the paddles out and scrape the frozen ice cream into the mixture and start again. Been through that a few times. That shit will also ruin your day, so don't scrimp on the machine. You get what you pay for.



When the machine stops, unplug the motor and take it off , being careful not to let the lid of the ice cream can come off in the process. Reach unto the ice on both sides of the can and pull the can up a bit to allow ice to fall in under it. Then wipe off the lid before you open it to prevent salt from getting into the ice cream. The can will sit there on its own, and you can pop the top and enjoy the "fruits" of your labour.



Mom and I hope you all do well and enjoy the goods. I hope we've given you the info you need to join my family in the long standing traditions of obesity, high cholesterol, and heart disease. Seriously though, what the fuck. Life is to be lived! Ya gotta die of something. I plan to go with a thigh in one hand a maybe a leg in the other, If ya know what I mean. Enjoy.

Started a new semester yesterday, after a good week off and a very pleasant weekend.

I started four new classes on base this week, as well as a new online class. I've got about 45 people in each of my lunchtime history classes (11:30-12:30 and 12:30-1:30 every day), with more wanting in them every day, and I've got about 30 to 35 people in each of the two government classes in the evening (7:30 to 10pm M/W and T/Th). A lot of the folks in my lunchtime classes took the other half of the history last time and are back again. It was like old home week when I walked in the first day. Lots of laughs. Most of my students are soldiers or retired soldiers or family/dependants. The online class has only 17 people in it, but it might grow. I'll be working on that one this week, trying to come up with new exams. I may eventually use those new exams in the conventional classes too. Spring them on the folks in the evening classes on base. I LOVE test day!

Anyway, this last Spring Break was a great time off. It started with two nights and good times at Sweetwater.



That was a great trip, with great friends and lots of great food.

Then on Wednesday, I took a trip to Ft. Worth to spend the day and have dinner with some other, older friends. I've known this guy for about 20 years, and his wife since they got together about 15 years ago.



We've been on a dozen or so hiking and/or canoe trips, and these are the folks I rafted the Colorado with in 03 and 05. Click on the link over at FlickR to check out more of those shots.

The week was rounded off with a fabulous Sunday, beginning with a trip in the morning to Austin to walk through a gun show (resulting in the acquisition of a new toy), and then a trip up to Temple to eat southern fried chicken and home made peach ice cream at moms, and ended with two awesome episodes of Rome back to back on HBO at my sisters place in Belton. That was a full day.

I walked into the gun show thinking it was about time for somethin' to happen. I was officially designated as legal and dangerous by the great state of Texas a while back, but I had yet to pop the cherry on the old CHP card. I needed to get it over with. The main reason why I wanted one of these things is because it allows the holder to buy new toys without having to go through a potentially tedious background check every time. You're considered preapproved due to the check they do on you before they give you the card. It makes for a very convenient purchasing experience, so I was lookin' forward to my first time.

I walked into the place and found an old guy I'd bought several things from in the past. He's always situated with his table right there at the door. He builds very nice rifles from a mixture of foreign and American made parts. His manufacturing standards are high, and his stuff usually includes things that you don't necessarily find elsewhere. He also has a cute little pug dog that he brings up to the shows from Houston. It snoozes there on a pillow under the table. I grew up with pugs, so it's sometimes hard to tell whether I'm more excited to see the pooch or the firepower.

Anyway, it's cool when you find what you want right off the bat and then get to walk through the place for an hour and see if you can come up with anything better. The excitement builds to a crescendo. I walked by, got his attention and pointed to one rifle, saying "don't sell that one till I get back". He smiled and nodded in recognition, then turned back to his other customer as I walked on.

I walked out of there about 30 minutes later with a bright, shiny new M 70 (Yugoslavian version of the AKM, built on an American receiver).



It has a thicker receiver giving it a more sturdy shooting platform. Early AK-47s had milled receivers (like an SKS), and were steadier and more accurate shooters. A normal late model AK has a stamped receiver, and many have a problem with the receiver warping during sustained firing. This one doesn't do that quite as much because the receiver wall is thicker, and so it has a reputation for being a more accurate shooter. I just think they're cool as hell, and I've wanted one for a while. Many of the ones I've seen on the market have been thrown together imports or ridiculously expensive pre-ban guns. This one was the best of both worlds; well built and affordable. Couldn't believe my good fortune. I threw it in the trunk and zipped back up north towards home, giddy like a little girl.

I stopped briefly at Rudy's BBQ in Roundrock to pick up some Jalapeno sausage and creamed corn. Mmmmmm! I'll eat off that stuff all week long. I needed to be at Mom's by 3:30 so I could put the Ice cream maker together and get it started. Mom makes the cream and then gets me to taste it to see if it is sweet enough.



She pours it into the cylinder, which I then place in the wooden bucket. I attach the motor, pour in the ice and rock salt, and set the thing to turning, refilling the ice and salt as needed.

The routine for doing this is probably in my DNA. I remember when I was a kid and my job was to sit on the thing while my dad cranked it. It was a sign of growing up when I shifted to cranking and took over that job. It was SO COOL when they put a motor on that bastard. The ice cream tastes just as good without the sore arm. Mom's chicken is famous with everyone I know. Has been for as long as I can remember (you may need to put some sort of plastic sheeting over your keyboard to ketch the drool from looking at these pictures... fair warning).



She's got it down to a science. It's actually amazingly easy to make, but it never tastes like moms when I do it myself. What can you say. After about 20 minutes, the ice cream maker shuts down, indicating that the ice cream is frozen, and I bust it open, lift the cylinder up out of the ice, and parcel out the portions.



I've inherited all these duties from dad, who sits back now and waits for his plate. Mom gets the first plate, of course, and dad is second.



He sits in his TV chair and usually feeds a bit of chicken to one of the cats. Their new dog now gets her share along with the others. He's a pushover. Don't know where this guy came from, 'cause the guy that raised me was a cold hearted son-of-a-bitch. I guess we all mellow with time. Sis gets the third plate, and I get the last. There's a method to this madness. Just in case yer thinkin' "Aw, what a nice guy", it turns out the sweetest ice cream is always in the bottom of the bowl. It just so happens. Total coincidence.

After everyone's had their fill, I start the dishes soaking in the sink...



And then its relax, maybe nap, loosen the belt and let the belly expand. The queen retires to her easy chair, and I eventually drive home with my share of the spoils.



A good time was had by all. At one point in the process I was talking with sis about the two upcoming episodes of Rome. She said that we'd probably get to see Mark Antony in the buff, suckin' on a huka (she has the hots for James Purefoy).



I said, innocently, that we'll probably also get to see him fall on his sword. She erupted in outrage. How dare I spoil it for her. I'm like, "didn't you see that movie a dozen times?" I don't think you can really be accused of divulging things that should be common fuckin' knowledge. Jebus, you silly cow. Read a book sometime.

We watched the two episodes back to back, and it was as good as I was expecting it would be. Can't wait for the end, but hate to see it come. I think about how they could continue the series and show us their HBO version of the whole Julian drama. But that's already been done so well in the old BBC series I, Claudius, so I doubt they'll go there.



Too bad. It would be fun to watch our two boys get old and live through some cool history.

Well, that was my week. Now the grind has begun again. It looks like rain all week, and I'm desperately needing to pull weeds and do laundry. And yet here I sit. Well It's late, and it all starts again early in the morning, so enjoy the read, and don't slobber too much on yerself lookin' at the food. Later.