Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Death to Facebook and Other Life Oddities
Nope, I didn't join the Peace Corps and move to some remote exotic island to teach poor islanders how to grow edible hemp, but I have joined the ranks of the odious Facebook and Twitless Twitter Movement. Jsut so much time in the evenings after the daily grind, and I have been spending it frivolously, trying to convince myself I like it, I really like it...just give it a more lengthy testing.
I went there, tried it, bought the tee-shirt and now I am tired of all the shinola.
So, here I am again mixing misery and gin, sittin' with all my friends and talkin' to myself, I look like I'm having a good time, but any fool can tell, that this Honky Tonk Facebook really makes you feel like hell.
(With apologies to Merle.)
I think I'll close up my FB page and stick the one who brung me to the dance - blogging.
Twitter can join FB in the ranks of "who truly gives a crap about knowing every meaningless thought of every person on the planet." It ain't me, babe.
I am at risk of becoming a curmudgeon before my time. Sigh. Just when I thought I was techno-grannie, too. Me obsolete? NEVER.
Uh huh.
Give me some real food for thought, blogs that enrich both the mind and the soul: Time Goes By, Citizen K, Coyote Crossing, Elusive Abstractions, Along the Way, Fool in the Forest, 2blowhards, Whiskey Prajer, or any of the Herd listed in the lefthand column over there.
I've grown older and wiser blogging with these intelligent friends.
So to all my lighter weight acquaintances and non-acquaintances, go Tweet yourself.
I went there, tried it, bought the tee-shirt and now I am tired of all the shinola.
So, here I am again mixing misery and gin, sittin' with all my friends and talkin' to myself, I look like I'm having a good time, but any fool can tell, that this Honky Tonk Facebook really makes you feel like hell.
(With apologies to Merle.)
I think I'll close up my FB page and stick the one who brung me to the dance - blogging.
Twitter can join FB in the ranks of "who truly gives a crap about knowing every meaningless thought of every person on the planet." It ain't me, babe.
I am at risk of becoming a curmudgeon before my time. Sigh. Just when I thought I was techno-grannie, too. Me obsolete? NEVER.
Uh huh.
Give me some real food for thought, blogs that enrich both the mind and the soul: Time Goes By, Citizen K, Coyote Crossing, Elusive Abstractions, Along the Way, Fool in the Forest, 2blowhards, Whiskey Prajer, or any of the Herd listed in the lefthand column over there.
I've grown older and wiser blogging with these intelligent friends.
So to all my lighter weight acquaintances and non-acquaintances, go Tweet yourself.
Friday, July 10, 2009
"I Tried To Die Young"
Remember her from Woodstock? She had candles shining for her then. The voice and the talent still rings true for...Melanie:
This is a my new mantra! I love this song.
Here's another brilliant tune, Leftover Wine:
Her famous song from Woodstock:
This is a my new mantra! I love this song.
Here's another brilliant tune, Leftover Wine:
Her famous song from Woodstock:
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Goodbye, Mrs. Shahan
Listening to the radio this morning, I was sorry to hear about the death of 93 year-old Virginia Shahan. Virginia and her late husband, Happy Shahan, were the pioneers of Texas film making. In 1960, Happy built the set for the filming of "The Alamo", starring John Wayne. Since that time, Brackettville has been host to a dozen or more famous movies and documentaries.
Kman and I visited Brackettville a few years ago. It truly was like stepping back in time. Even though I was aware it was a movie set, I could easily imagine life in Texas in the 1800's. Great fun.
In fact, the movie set is much more imaginative and evocative of the period than is the original Alamo - which is so out of place in busy downtown modern San Antonio.
The Shahan heirs are determining what to do with the make-believe town; I hope they decide to keep it open to the public. What a waste to destroy 50 years of history.
Kman and I visited Brackettville a few years ago. It truly was like stepping back in time. Even though I was aware it was a movie set, I could easily imagine life in Texas in the 1800's. Great fun.
In fact, the movie set is much more imaginative and evocative of the period than is the original Alamo - which is so out of place in busy downtown modern San Antonio.
The Shahan heirs are determining what to do with the make-believe town; I hope they decide to keep it open to the public. What a waste to destroy 50 years of history.
Monday, July 06, 2009
CP's Grand Clan
Still missing two grandsons who live in San Antonio, Ethan and Jonas, but here is a photo of seven of our grand-progeny taken over the Fourth of July.
Connor (on far left) holding newest to the Clan, baby Westin, then Garrett, Caitlyn, Brady, and Colton -who is holding baby Will.
Garrett, Brady and Will are brothers; Connor, Colton, and Caitlyn are siblings, and baby Westin is the loney lone in his family...for now ;-)
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Carnival of the Arid #5
A terrific blogger, Chris Clarke, whom you will find on my sidebar as "Coyote Crossing" has posted his latest(#5) edition of his Carnival of the Arid. I am tickled to be included in this CotA among some other really smart and artistic bloggers.
Stop by to say "Howdy" and view some of the other submissions.
Chris hooked me a long time ago to his blog with stories of his beloved canine friend, Zeke. His readers grew to love this amazing dog, and his death was a loss to all of us who felt a bond, albeit long distance, with the regal dog.
Stop by to say "Howdy" and view some of the other submissions.
Chris hooked me a long time ago to his blog with stories of his beloved canine friend, Zeke. His readers grew to love this amazing dog, and his death was a loss to all of us who felt a bond, albeit long distance, with the regal dog.
If It's Summer in Texas, Must Be Family Reunion Time
Why is it most family reunions in Texas must be in the middle of the furnace-blasting month of July or August? Is it some law that was carved in stone millenniums ago: "Thou Shalt Gather Together and Swelter"? I suppose the original theory must have been to include all the precious little rugrats during summer break, but the supreme foolhardiness of this seems to be lost on the minions.
Seems there is always an Aunt Zoetta attending who has the smartest, best-lookin' and most achieving children of the whole dang gene pool. Goes without saying that she is a bigwig on the PTA, listed as a must-have for every committee in the Womens Auxillary Club, and personally knows Laura Bush. If you are unfortunate enough to stand too long in her vicinity, you will be subjected to a barrage of pictures of Desiree in her Good Ship Lollipop costume, tapping her little heart away on a stage at Mayfest. She has a separate, cutesy little cloth covered album for each child. Try to avoid asking what is in the patriotic-looking album, the one with the red, white and blue ribbons. This album is reserved for The Perfect Son, Junior. Surely you know he was selected for Who Who's of the Presidential Council on Youth, and leads the Young Republican Party in Cowtown? This kid looks like a enrollee at the Lumpy Rutherford School for Overachievers. Oh, and the photo album with the pug puppies on it...don't even glance that way. Run like hell if it is within reach. This woman brings photos of her pedigreed pooches, too.
DO NOT BRING VCR'S TO A REUNION WHICH INCLUDES RELATIVES OF THIS PERSUASION. BAN ALL ELECTRONIC DEVICES OTHER THAN UNCLE EARL'S PACEMAKER.
Then, you have the cousin who proudly bears the title of Miss Skin Tight Capris Pants. It is customary for these to be lime green with little pink flamingos on them, and a matching pink tube top. Miss Skin Tight obviously has the O'Hara gene, and goes straight for all the menfolk. I always insist on adding extra BBQ sauce to her brisket, which is guaranteed to leak through the cheap paper plates and onto the hideous pink birds on her britches. This woman put the H in Harlot, the W in Warpaint, and is on a first-name basis with her plastic surgeon. Add a pair of tacky Candie sandals with clear acrylic heels, and you have a Sight For Sore Eyes. Yep, this is the official description. If your eyes weren't sore before her entrance, just watch her prance for about 10 minutes. You'll be reaching for the Visine, or a really dark pair of sunglasses to cut the brassy glare off her Miss Clairol hair.
One of these years, I hope to be crowned the official Geneology Queen at my family reunion. I have worked hard on our ancestral tree. Dodging all those nuts ain't easy, it's downright detrimental to good mental health. Everyone wants to know if we are kin to anyone famous, and all I have been able to come up with is a very faint link to Jimmy Carter, which does not please Aunt Zoetta in the slightest.
Wanna know the one good thing about family reunions? I said the ONE good thing about these mandatory mass consumptions of deviled eggs and potato salad and the atrociously bad manners? Sprinkled in amongst all the craziness is the underlying pride of family, and enough genuine affection to bring you back next year.
Seems there is always an Aunt Zoetta attending who has the smartest, best-lookin' and most achieving children of the whole dang gene pool. Goes without saying that she is a bigwig on the PTA, listed as a must-have for every committee in the Womens Auxillary Club, and personally knows Laura Bush. If you are unfortunate enough to stand too long in her vicinity, you will be subjected to a barrage of pictures of Desiree in her Good Ship Lollipop costume, tapping her little heart away on a stage at Mayfest. She has a separate, cutesy little cloth covered album for each child. Try to avoid asking what is in the patriotic-looking album, the one with the red, white and blue ribbons. This album is reserved for The Perfect Son, Junior. Surely you know he was selected for Who Who's of the Presidential Council on Youth, and leads the Young Republican Party in Cowtown? This kid looks like a enrollee at the Lumpy Rutherford School for Overachievers. Oh, and the photo album with the pug puppies on it...don't even glance that way. Run like hell if it is within reach. This woman brings photos of her pedigreed pooches, too.
DO NOT BRING VCR'S TO A REUNION WHICH INCLUDES RELATIVES OF THIS PERSUASION. BAN ALL ELECTRONIC DEVICES OTHER THAN UNCLE EARL'S PACEMAKER.
Then, you have the cousin who proudly bears the title of Miss Skin Tight Capris Pants. It is customary for these to be lime green with little pink flamingos on them, and a matching pink tube top. Miss Skin Tight obviously has the O'Hara gene, and goes straight for all the menfolk. I always insist on adding extra BBQ sauce to her brisket, which is guaranteed to leak through the cheap paper plates and onto the hideous pink birds on her britches. This woman put the H in Harlot, the W in Warpaint, and is on a first-name basis with her plastic surgeon. Add a pair of tacky Candie sandals with clear acrylic heels, and you have a Sight For Sore Eyes. Yep, this is the official description. If your eyes weren't sore before her entrance, just watch her prance for about 10 minutes. You'll be reaching for the Visine, or a really dark pair of sunglasses to cut the brassy glare off her Miss Clairol hair.
One of these years, I hope to be crowned the official Geneology Queen at my family reunion. I have worked hard on our ancestral tree. Dodging all those nuts ain't easy, it's downright detrimental to good mental health. Everyone wants to know if we are kin to anyone famous, and all I have been able to come up with is a very faint link to Jimmy Carter, which does not please Aunt Zoetta in the slightest.
Wanna know the one good thing about family reunions? I said the ONE good thing about these mandatory mass consumptions of deviled eggs and potato salad and the atrociously bad manners? Sprinkled in amongst all the craziness is the underlying pride of family, and enough genuine affection to bring you back next year.
...The biographical equivalent of 12 hour chili - Sticks to the ribs! -
