Alpine Art Walk

As I sat on the steps of the Brewster County Courthouse whittling away at my time, the autumn breeze rustled the golden yellow leaves of the Cottonwoods and dispatched the fragrance of outdoor cuisine quaffing up from the street vendor’s booths. A parade of art cars that you wouldn’t find on exhibit at “du Louvre” meandered down the main drag amidst the “oohs” and “aahs” of the crowd (my favorite was the giant “cockroach” car). The streets filled with the music of Matt Skinner’s Walk’n, Talk’n, Fingerpick’n …while Ray Wylie Hubbard had us “up against the wall”. It was a weekend of smelling the leather at the Big Bend Saddlery, ingesting burgers at Alicia’s Burrito Palace and stargazing at the McDonald Observatory. It was the Marfa lights, the blown-out tires, the adobe Church at Ruidosa on the Rio Grande and the drive down Pinto Canyon Road. I am now confident that my wife’s new Camry and I are ready for the Paris-Dakar 2011 Rally. The moonset at sunrise in Lajitas, the home-make music and the austere beauty of the Big Bend Park was magnificent. The fact that it was all enjoyed with friends will not soon be forgotten.
Thanks to our hosts, the tall lanky cowboy and his stunning wife…their hospitality would make any outsider fit right in. Thank you for inviting us, taking us into your home and feeding us; a rowdy bunch of college kids on the verge of retirement.

There is no place like Alpine
The air is fresh, the weather fine
The mountain views they are sublime
I hope to visit one more time.

Up and down the city sidewalk
Cluttered with drawings of charcoal and chalk
Photos and paintings are the big squawk
November is the time for the Alpine Art-Walk.

And so I am blessed with all of the best
But having good friends is the test
Then there is no need for all of the rest
And so it is...out there in the West.

Amen

Tofurkey Day?

Thanksgiving is a one of my favorite holidays. I totally enjoy the family gathering together for a meal…a meal at my mother-in-law’s house. She has become the focal point. At the age of 103 she still lives at home…her house is the gathering place for the entire family and any homeless folks you might care to invite…all are welcome. Most everyone brings a dish, a dessert or a delectable treat. While I am not a professional eater, I do feel like an “Olympic class” amateur who is constantly training for just such an event. My strategy is to start with the pies first…making sure I test each and every one…I would not want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Then on to the main course…again making sure to try all the different entrées and side dishes. This year a “Tofurkey” stuffed with wild rice in the most attractive presentation found it’s way onto the menu. While I’ve never had any vegan tendencies…my curiosity peeked at the thought of anything made from tofu tasting like food. I feel that I have matured a bit in my eating habits…it no longer bothers me that the peas touch the mash potatoes… I’ve decided it is all going to the same place. But the Tofurkey…what can I say…to put it politely there was no need to go back for seconds. I’m quite sure I will never be a vegetarian. While I enjoy many vegetables I can’t see banning all foods that have or have had eyes from my diet. Bacon, burgers, butter and bread, especially white bread, are essentials and a necessary food group.

Thank you Lord Jesus,
You know how to please us.
For the family and friends,
And all of the grins.

At One hundred and three
She is amazing you see.
For how can it be
Such a blessing to me?

Thank you so much
For your loving touch
For all the malarkey
And even Tofurkey

Amen.

Technically Frustrated

Dear Diary;
I am literarily, metaphorically and technically Frustrated. Wave after wave of the latest technology washes over me as I struggled to catch my breath. I cannot get my antiquated PDA/smart phone to scroll and therefore perform any application. I am awash in a sea of three and four “G” know-how, drowning in a deluge of high tech gadgets that I have no idea how to operate and do not want to learn. I am ready to throw in the towel along with my dingle berry of a Blackberry. Following numerous doctoring of the little mouse ball with alcohol and no success…it appeared the little mouse was sick and would not recover.

Then I remembering what grandson Cameron taught me, I “Googled” it. I typed in "how do I clean my Blackberry mouse ball". Bingo…there it was… instruction illustrated with pictures.

I pried off the retaining ring with my pocketknife and exposed the tiny directional rollers, which were impacted with a six-month supply of belly button fuzz. My wife’s toothbrush was the perfect tool suited to the task. I brushed and cleaned everything until it was shiny new…snapped it back together and “voila”

“Life is good, God is great and people are crazy.”
Amen.

Note to self:
I must remember to put her toothbrush back.

Fall Days

It was another gorgeous fall day, and now the sun was low and the shadows were long as I drug myself, pick axe and shovel back to the house. It had been a physically exhausting day of digging…digging up an electronic probe for a customer’s automatic gate opener. I should have known that I was out of shape…just this morning I had to come up twice for air as I tie my bootlaces. I enjoyed the physical activity for the first few hours but, after not finding “the treasure”, the fun wore off. I commandeered a backhoe and effortlessly dredged up the defective item…in no time.

Thank you, Lord Jesus,

For a beautiful day spent outdoors,
A perfect place to do my chores.
I must admit it underscores,
A sharp contrast to when it pours.

For holes to dig, it never bores,
A few blisters here and muscle sores.
I won't complain or make those roars,
On days like these my spirit soars.

Amen.

White Bread

Yesterday my wife brought home a loaf of white bread. Communications being what they are… I assumed it was to eat and immediately tore into it. Little did I know it was to make little sandwiches…finger sandwiches with the crust cut off...sandwiches for her high tea women’s club meeting.

When I was a child my mother always bought white bread. It was the thing…it was the rage. Maybe it was the only type of store-bought bread available. White flour was what everyone wanted…refined white bread, refined white flour. Who knew the refining process got rid of all the good stuff. I grew up on white bread and loved it…good stuff or not. Bologna on white bread, PB&J on white, pimento cheese on white, whatever on white was the standard of the day. Childhood was great, in spite of all warnings, you could run with a pair of scissors and not put your eye out, fall from tall trees without breaking your neck and eat white bread to your hearts content without dying…those were the days. But now it’s different…we know better. My wife being the kind, caring person she is will not allow me to eat white bread because it’s bad for me. Well, apparently she does not care as much for her “high tea” buddies.


Thank you Lord,
For a caring wife,
Sometime it’s hard,
And full of strife.

But this I know,
About this waif,
When it’s time to go,
You will keep me safe.
Amen.

Pedaling The Pyrenees

I could feel the burning muscles in my thighs as I exhaled another breath laden with moisture. Cresting the last hill...with most of the kilometers behind me…I visualized the finish line and donning the yellow jersey. Reaching my destination I put aside the Tour de France daydream, went inside and took up my usual seat in the last pew. The physical exercise of riding the bike to church gets my blood flowing and makes me more alert for the spiritual exercise. It’s unfortunate I don’t take my exercise more seriously...for it seems I am developing a midriff bulge…both body and soul.

Thank you Lord Jesus,

For the legs that can pedal,
For a mind that can meddle,
For the words that I pen,
So I thank you again.

The yellow jersey I may not win,
For my goal is to be your friend.
Crossing your finish line is a must,
So I will not be left in the dust.

Amen.

Winter Texan

A cold drizzle and a sharp north wind make the gray overcast day seem as if I were back in Alaska. I went to the armoire and withdrew my favorite plaid flannel shirt…the same shirt that makes my wife role her eyes in disgust. Like an old friend it comforts me…I would wear it on all occasions if not for the moaning and groaning of the one who has impeccable taste. But on cold days…when we will not be seen together, in public…I am allowed to indulge my fetish. I am a winter Texan at heart but stuck here year-round. So when cooler weather comes I get excited and dream of Alaska, Campbell’s soup and hot chocolate.

Today’s gospel reminds me that we all have our crosses and I must take up mine and follow if I am going to be counted as a disciple.

“Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple”.
Luke 14:27


Thank you Lord Jesus;

For letting me carry such a small cross,
Not to follow would be my loss.
While Texas heat may be intense,
I know your words you do not mince.

A tiny cross though it may be…but yet…
A reminder of just how hot things could get.
The Texas summer is a trivial cross,
And I am so glad you are the boss.

Amen