keeler
I have one of those original autographed photos.
Keeler keeper.
Can you spell "S U N?" - Welcome to Houston.
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July 29, 2007
Life Abhors a Vacuum
You read this stuff and fall to the ground weeping with gratitude for just being alive.
Oh, that "Satellite" song remains on yesterday's post because it's the kind of tune that sticks in your head and I wouldn't want to deprive you of it.
"Share weakness of mind" I always say.
Here's my own personal Urban Legend. It happened thirty minutes ago. But I'm upstairs with coffee, ignoring the repercussions.
See man in bed, thinking about waking up only to realize he is awake.
See man laughing in mirror at beard growth, checking calendar.
See man lumber downstairs on a mission to refill bird feeder.
See man drop full cup of bird seed on the living room carpet while attempting futile maneuver of opening screen door to the back porch.
NOT SO FULL ANYMORE, ARE YOU CUP?
July 28, 2007
Saturday Syllables
DirecTV grows more awesome every day. I have it on best authority TWO satellites are scheduled to launch this summer from Kazakhstan. 213 High Definition channels. I'm sure that's what the girl said when I called for conversation.
How am I supposed to like....feed the dog, pay bills, and pick up around this house?
Saturday has arrived, and from my arm chair, with computer stand before it, dog sleeping by feet, restless fingers cast about for nearest criticism.
Is it just me, or does it not bug you when people are out having a good time, even if they don't win every championship that comes their way?
Laughing all the way to the bank, girl has no plan "B." Washed up at twenty. My dad hates her grunting. And he has a point. She overdoes that. The whole soap opera is ridiculous. I don't know why you fall for it. I wish some new girl would just wipe everyone out.
Anything but baseball. My God - over and over every day. Who cares?
You have no idea how good this coffee is I'm sipping while you continue to sleep.
So let's get right to tree man and how he came by last night to estimate what it would take to remove the monster from my backyard.
Price is ridiculously low, as in next to nothing. $240 with stump. I'd pay you that if you'd iron my shirts, assuming I would wear anything with light starch.
You'd think the guy was negotiating a nuclear arms pact with Iran.
"Fine, fine dude. No need for your life story. Come back when it's not soggy. Jesus."
July has been busy here, which is good. Not to risk disaster by mentioning it, but no hurricanes in the Gulf. Major crisis running out of AAA batteries for flashlights is a tragedy most of the third world might laugh at. This week's Walmart run included four boxes of kleenex, just to not run out of something.
I highly recommend bird feeders in summer. Yesterday, an amazing red-headed beauty flew over, and a few tiny brilliant blues, no idea what they were, family from chickadees? They sneaked in among dull, brute doves, lifted the day in a chorus of sweet swirl, then vanished.
July 27, 2007
Pine Oak Runs Amock
Many, many years ago, I thought I might be nice to a sprig.
So I didn't kill it.
At the far end of my little brush bed, by fence with a neighbor, what harm?
Several laughable tree-trimmings later - now the monster towers upon three trunks, over thirty feet in splayed array of leaf sun-grabbing.
This tree is the kind of happy that makes you want to say, "oh shut up."
No stopping it, spreading outward, upward, too close to the house, making neighbors mad, and perhaps...
Perhaps - blocking soon DirecTV satellite?
IT MUST BE CUT DOWN!
Cry with me for the money I'm going to lose, all because I would not just rip it out ten years ago.
I could have taken you out for two pizza dates on that expense.
Why did I leave it be for so long? Some preternatural instinct told me, "look Mark - Greenpeace is whacko, so is global warming, but let the tree live." Cumbaya yourself.
What an idiot.
I'm not even going to talk about the money. This year held goals, like ... a gallon of milk perchance. But what can I do? Mr. Limb stalker has got to go. Me, or ........"it."
Creeping branches are like invading aliens from a bad science fiction movie.
See any of a number of unrequited lovers, tree.
I didn't want to deal with you this summer, TREE.
Incessant rain has made you too brave.
Plan is to pay a guy to estimate how many hundreds of dollars it's going to take to get rid of it (including removal, no small task). And I'll remit the extortion money with crazed glee, happy finally for free skies.
First step: open yellow pages. Call tree dude. Local outfit. I think he's "it." He says, "you realize we are extremely busy this time of year. That's my cell phone ringing. I'll have to take your number."
July 20, 2007
Friday
This computer game is almost as fun as the red-headed bird making way among doves onto the rain-drenched bird feeder outside my sliding glass door.
July 18, 2007
Man's Best Friend
Emerson turned thirteen human years today, July 18th.
When you look into his eyes, so innocent and philosophical, not hope that you see. No awareness of our complex world or cruelty he is protected from.
Just basic happy circles, launching himself up and down stairs still whenever I come home, after carefully watching for my car out the front window and perking up when he sees it.
How do you honor your best friend on his thirteenth birthday?
With loads of attention and dingo bones.
July 15, 2007
Freedom to Express.... Nothing
Sometimes blogging comes naturally then other times run on sentences require work but I don't like to work very hard at anything, much less on a Sunday, so any important or irrelevant facts and foibles might be fostered fearlessly.
I've decided yesterday is in the past, cannot be undone no more than ancient Greece, Rome, or Carthage, which means some French phrase "Live for today" but too lazy to look it up on Google and insert it here so you think I'm clever with words and all.
Such posturing is rarely beneath me, but you'll be glad to know the carpet shampooer (word?) I bought at Fry's for a hundred bucks works wonders. You don't know how dirty your cleanly vacuumed carpets really are. And it takes a while to do it right.
Yesterday's exercise in patience lacked only admiring crowds, room by room. I almost broke my arm, patting myself on the back because who else was going to do it?
Fear not for my malleable mind. Drugs were not involved in this composition.
Posterity demands few explanations for freewheeling abuse of server disk space, clogging the internet, my little protest against the unfairness of life, invective chatter without purpose, soon to be scrolled down this page, retired into archives, never consulted again by Google bots or poor, unlucky purveyors of blogville, denizens of the day strolling in hopeless agitation through mired myriads of meaningless moods.
July 14, 2007
Pinch Me if it's Saturday
Fun read worth re-mentioning.
Those of us with short attention spans get back to Dostoevsky in Fall, approximating Russian winters in Houston, assuming this dehumidifier ever turns off.
Carpet cleaning mission.
Are you doing anything useful this weekend, besides replaying SOAPNET's "General Hospital - Night Shift?"
Woebegone has floundered my pantry. Nothing survives in that cave but chips and expired hurricane supplies.
Car begging for a wash after July 4th road trip: dead bugs on the bumper.
Title of my next novel.
Eavesdrop on the chittering lady in Barnes & Noble, mesmerizing no less than three excited high school girls, dressed in flair of course, bored out of their minds, that PBS is broadcasting all the Jane Austen miniseries in a marathon.
I have to hear it like some clandestine 007, surreptitious sneak, skulking around the 50% OFF picture book aisle.
TV Guide no help and never has been.
I'm sure every single Jennifer Ehle, Helena Bonham Carter, Emma Thompson period piece flirtation with uncomfortable undergarments - DVDs lay stacked under that strange yet compelling "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
That Charlie Kaufman writer is some dude.
So in between carpet lint hunts, I'll watch this stuff. But recordings lack a certain panache.
I much more enjoy a good program on TV, knowing someone else is participating in the experience at the same time. Another human being not on hold with customer support from Bangalore, India.
Well boys and girls, some of you are no doubt still sleeping. Others must visit the cubicle on Saturday morning, debug Excel spreadsheets, perhaps visit Walmart afterwards, whilst Emerson snores atop a bed window fit for no less than man's best friend.
July 7, 2007
Taking the 4th Too Far
Monday = forced showers.
July 1, 2007
And Then There Were None
This computer game is almost as fun as the red-headed bird making way among doves onto the rain-drenched bird feeder outside my sliding glass door.
Beaker's Feelings
Do you realize it is July?
This, and other obvious statements brought free of charge.
Based upon yesterday's outpouring, you might presuppose fountains.
No man loves a vacuum, which space abhors.