tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66013908356920825112024-03-13T10:25:47.576-07:00CalTex Something Or Other BlogRandom thoughts from a California refugee trying to be converted to a Texan.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-26863189580058994592011-11-02T22:35:00.000-07:002011-11-02T22:35:28.277-07:00Feline times five - Part 4So the saga of Cali and her four rambunctious kittens continued. Cali herself was fitting in nicely with the rest of the household, and had particularly bonded with Merlin, another stray my wife had brought over from her previous home. The kittens were well on their way to being socialized, and were growing up to be very active and sassy. There were times I was afraid I'd open the door to the guest room and find a smoking crater where it once was with these innocent looking furry faces looking at me with an, "I don't know what happened" expression.<br />
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The plan was to get them spayed and neutered, then try to find good homes for them. What's that phrase, "The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley" which loosely translated means, "What can go wrong will go wrong." Step one was waiting until the youngsters were old enough to be snipped. Since they were rapidly outgrowing the guest room, we moved them to the exercise room which is considerably larger. I then decided to take advantage of AAR's low cost vaccinations and get them in for their shots. I decided to take two at a time, so first up was the female and one of the gingers. By this time, the kittens were starting to get names. The female was Abby, and the ginger on his way to AAR was Rajah. <br />
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I got them into carriers and carted them off. At AAR, I first took out Rajah's carrier. This is a hard sided carrier with a metal barred door, which promptly popped open due to a before unnoticed defective latch. Rajah took off like a shot across the parking lot, and I had a sick feeling he'd never be seen again and would meet a horrible fate. I left Abby in the car, then took off to see if by some miracle Rajah could be found. Fortunately, for some reason he was trying to burrow under the chain link fence to the section where AAR kept their animals. I was able to grab him, and pull him out, then got him back in the carrier, and this time I got the latch to stay put. Of course this was after in his frantic state his claws had removed impressive amounts of skin from my arms.<br />
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A couple months passed, the kittens kept playing and growing, though fortunately it looked like they would be petite like their mom. The idea of four more behemoths like Merlin was not attractive considering the food bill alone would require robbing a bank at least once a month. I then was concerned since Cali got pregnant at such a young age, Abby could be next if one of her brothers started physically maturing also at a young age. So I took her in to be spayed.<br />
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Another month, then the next fateful day. The boys were to be snipped. By this time all had names. The second ginger became Rusty, and since the black and white was the entertaining clown of the group, he was christened Jester. I gathered them up, got them into carriers with doors that I made sure latched, and carted them off to AAR. Several hours later, I retrieved three groggy kittens who were wondering why they were meowing in soprano.<br />
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By this time, efforts to adopt them out were not working. No neighbors or friends could take them, and an ad in an online pet adoption service only received a reply from a buncher. These are people who buy animals, or take those who are "free to good homes," then turn around and sell them to labs for testing. I was sorely tempted to arrange a meeting with this person, then call on my martial arts training to show him the errors of his ways.<br />
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So the perpetual question of what to do with them all was answering itself. We would have to resign ourselves to having twelve cats. After the boys had recovered from neutering, I opened the door to the exercise room, and let them make tentative peeks outside. Finally they got bold and left to explore, led as usual by Jester. Cali wasn't sure what to make of this, since she probably thought her job raising them was done. As for the older cats? They gave the youngsters sniffs, then meandered off to eat and nap. <br />
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As time passed, fears of the youngsters being disruptive turned out to be the exact opposite. Probably because they only had each other for company for three months, and were spayed and neutered before adult behavior kicked in, they continued to get along perfectly. They slept together, romped together, and never hissed or spit. Household peace and quiet was another matter. You could almost set your watch, and place your bets, every morning at 7 and 11 AM on the races between Jester, Rajah and Rusty. They would tear the length of the house, and sometimes literally bounced off walls to change direction. The much more lethargic older cats would look up, wonder what had gotten into the youngsters, and hope they would stop soon so the elders could go back to sleep.<br />
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Now, a year later, we've decided it was Fate that Cali and her kittens came into our lives. They are constantly entertaining, and they have had a mellowing effect on their elders, who had been prone to nasty fights on occasion. Plus they are very affectionate, and seem grateful for the chance they were given. As Sam Gamgee's dad said in <i>The Lord Of The Rings, </i>"All's well that ends better."Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-51989135197329926242011-11-01T23:14:00.000-07:002011-11-01T23:14:31.660-07:00Feline times Five - Part 3So the good news is Cali and her brood were indoors safe and sound. This was my first experience with ferals, but fortunately the good folks at Tomball AAR and another rescue group, Tomball Save Our Strays, (TSOS), were invaluable with sound advice. The most important was to try to socialize everyone for potential adoption. Isolating them from the rest of our cats, (who surprisingly showed little interest beyond cursory sniffs at the door to the guest room then sauntering off in disinterest), was the first step. Next was getting Cali spayed. All of our other cats had been spayed and neutered, so there wasn't any danger of her having another litter. However, spaying does have benefits with a cat's behavior such as making them calmer and there are many health benefits.<br />
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This did mean removing Cali from her kittens. Since they were about twelve weeks old and weaned, they were old enough to be on their own. So I took her to the workout room, and set it up so she'd be comfortable. I did feel bad, because she had been starting to trust us, then all of a sudden was trapped in the crate, then a couple days later taken away from her babies. But she had to be isolated since she was still producing milk, and couldn't be spayed until her supply dried up. That would take a week, during which we spent as much time with her as possible. After a while she started showing more affection, so the trust was starting to come back.<br />
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In the meantime, we bought a tall kitty condo for the kittens. They sniffed around it, then quickly started climbing all over. The black and white one was the most active, and soon lead the others in high dives from the top of the condo to the bed in the guest room. I swear I heard him going, "Banzai!" several times. As for socializing the kittens, I was told the best way was to spend time with them, but don't approach them. When they were ready, they would approach. So I would sit against a wall watching them watching me. I would hold a hand out, which would get tentative sniffs, but they still stayed out of reach.<br />
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What broke the ice were shoelaces. We had determined we had three males and one female. The female was the first to be curious about my shoelaces. Finally, she grabbed the end of one in her mouth and started tugging. After a couple days, the others also thought this was great fun. At one point I had a kitten pulling on each shoelace end in different directions. While they were doing this, I would hold pieces of tuna out, which after some wary sniffs, they started accepting. From there, they started accepting head scratches, and within a week started purring while starting to rub up against us.<br />
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In the meantime, Cali was spayed, and after a few days to recover, we decided to introduce her to the other cats in the household. This was done by simply leaving the door to the workout room open. Still the older cats pretty much ignored her, with one exception. Merlin, who had been a stray himself, sauntered in. It was interesting watching the interaction between him and Cali. Despite being a mom, Cali rolled over in a submissive position, while Merlin would growl and hiss. That actually established their relationship, and afterward the two became inseparable. It was something seeing them together because of the size difference. Cali is a petite eight pounder, while Merlin is a hulking twenty-five pounds at least.<br />
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Poor Merlin had been pretty much ignored by the other cats, so it was heartwarming he finally had a companion. So at least things were going well with Cali, and the decision was made to keep her.<br />
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As for the kittens, the hope was still to foster them for adoption, but Fate had something else in mind.<br />
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To be continued...Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-52352772976160316182011-10-31T19:51:00.000-07:002011-10-31T19:51:05.204-07:00Feline times five - Part 2Cali and her kittens wasted little time adapting to their expanded territory. My wife saw them early every morning gathered around the back door waiting for breakfast, then during the day they either roamed the back yard, or napped in the thicket. Cali was very attentive and watched the youngins like a hawk. And speaking of hawks, that was a concern since large red tail hawks patrolled the area, and in the back yard the kittens were much more exposed. But fortunately they stayed safe.<br />
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Unfortunately, there was the major issue, what to do with the feline newcomers? The kittens were wary of people, and kept their distance though over the course of a couple of weeks they let us get to within a couple of feet before scurrying off. Cali also didn't lose her hunting instincts, despite a steady source of food on the back porch. I still found piles of feathers scattered throughout the yard, and you know she was starting to teach the babies how to hunt. <br />
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One other problem, is other critters were finding the food we left out tempting. Raccoons were the worst. I often looked out late at night and saw one or more cleaning out the food bowls. At least they never bothered the kittens or Cali. The babies especially enjoyed the yard and made it their playground. But they couldn't stay forever, and being feral, they would in a few months be old enough to reproduce on their own. And that would create a nightmare.<br />
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So the question of what to do with them had to be resolved, and soon. I called Tomball Abandoned Animal Rescue (AAR), a no kill shelter in town, for advice. They said they might be able to lend a trap or two, but they were full and even if the feline brood could be caught, they didn't have room. So my wife and I decided to try and trap them by some means, then keep them in a spare room and foster them for adoption.<br />
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That left one little problem... trapping a wary mom and four rambunctious kittens. AAR came through with some even better advice. I was told to get a large dog crate, place it on the porch, then cover it with towels and blankets so it wouldn't look so menacing, then finally bait it with tuna. <br />
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Great theory... but the reality... well, it actually worked. I waited until night when all of them were frolicking around, then set the trap. Fortunately, they made a beeline to the saucers of tuna. All except for one, who crouched down a few feet away unsure of what to do. So the choice was to wait and hope the straggler would go in before the others finished and wandered out, trap the four already inside and hope the last one wasn't so panicked on seeing her mom and siblings trapped she took off and was never seen again, or hope another night would work out. Well, the last kitten finally dashed in. I dashed myself to the crate, slammed the door shut and latched it, and waited while everyone inside completely freaked out. They were literally running around like hamsters on a wheel around the sides and top of the crate. But finally they settled down, and I called my wife to help me move the crate inside.<br />
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The great Texas Cat Wrangle was over. <br />
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But then came once again... now what? The crate was too large to fit around the corner to the exercise room where we originally wanted to keep everyone, so the guest room was sacrificed for the common good. We removed all the furniture except for the bed, which was covered in a thick shower curtain and an old comforter. A litter box was set up along with food and water. Then I opened the door to the crate, and left to let them adjust. All were crouched down quietly in the crate, no doubt wondering what had happened.<br />
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At least they were safely indoors. But the question remained... what to do with them?<br />
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To be continued...Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-49379610599478970802011-10-27T19:18:00.000-07:002011-10-27T19:18:49.759-07:00Feline times five - Part1We have cats in the house. Lots of cats. Seven to be precise, all part of a package deal when I re-married four years ago. For the most part they are pretty mellow, though there have been times of flying fur when for no apparent reason a couple would get into it. Seven is considered to be plenty of cats. Fortunately the house is fairly large so it doesn't feel overrun by them. Still, it was a major decision to add even more last Summer.<br />
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The circumstances were quite unexpected. The process we went through was educational, stressful at times, but in the end very rewarding for all. It began one afternoon when my wife noticed a scraggly mostly white cat, no more than a half grown kitten, wandering in the backyard. Since one of our pleasures is making the backyard a habitat for birds, the last thing we wanted was a feral stray thinking it had just stumbled on a buffet with feathers. So we chased it out, while hoping it belonged to someone down the road and would amble back to where it came from.<br />
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No such luck. The cat returned a day later and was chased out again. On its third appearance, I felt it was either feral, lost, or abandoned, and took pity on it. So I left out some food and water on the back porch, which the cat consumed with vigor. I figured if it knew food was available, it would leave the birds alone. This went on for several days, and it soon became apparent the cat was not afraid of people. This ended the idea it was feral, and was more likely either lost or abandoned.<br />
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I contacted a local animal rescue group, and first found out the cat was a Dilute Calico. It was mostly white, with Calico markings on its head, feet and tail. I posted an ad on the Internet about a lost cat, but no one replied. By this time the cat was getting friendlier, and started rubbing against the legs of whoever was providing food. We also determined it was female, and starting calling her Cali, short for Calico. Yeah, I know, not too original. I figured when she wasn't in our yard, or resting under a lawn chair on the porch, she was staying in a thicket next door. But despite all the food, she was still painfully thin. The reason became apparent a couple weeks later.<br />
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I was out back, and spotted to the side of the house three kittens, one ginger, one tabby and one black and white. They were hanging around the air conditioner, but scattered under the fence to get to the thicket when I approached. The reason they were by the ac unit was a partially consumed bird had been stashed there. I guessed the kittens were no more than seven weeks old and not old enough to be hunting. But where was the mother? Cali looked way too young. <br />
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Before going back into the house, I glanced at the gate, and saw the black and white had lodged himself underneath. I helped him out, and he ran towards the thicket, then stopped and flattened himself on the ground. But despite being feral, he still let me pick him up and pet him for a few seconds. However, there was another issue. Cali on her own was ok, and we were thinking of making her an outside cat. But the kittens were another matter. I called my wife at work and said, "We have a problem." <br />
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A couple days later, I looked into the thicket, and found another problem, and an answer for who the mother cat was. The problem was a second ginger kitten, so now they were up to four. As to the mother? Two of the kittens were being nursed by Cali. She was the equivalent of a teen mom, tossed out by her owner to fend for herself and raise the kittens. That explained her thinness, since anything she ate was being used to provide milk for the kittens. However, it was also clear that the kittens were being weaned. Unfortunately, Cali's idea of solid food for them was still birds.<br />
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Fortunately for the bird population of Tomball, that was about to change. For another week, while Cali spent a lot of time in our yard, the kittens stayed in the thicket. It was ideal habitat since the brush and scrub trees were so close together predators such as coyotes would have a rough time getting in, and hawks and owls would not see anything. Plus the landscapers in the neighborhood had piled up trimmed tree branches over a depression in the ground so it made a den big enough for all the cats.<br />
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One afternoon, after I set some food out for Cali, she faced the thicket and made this chirping sound. A minute later, this furry train of the four kittens came under the fence and made a beeline to the porch. We promptly got more food dishes out, and the kittens had a feast. So all were being provided for, but the big problem remained, what to do with all of them as a permanent solution?<br />
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See part two for that gripping tale.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-6059895208886812342011-10-26T19:53:00.000-07:002011-10-27T19:23:59.184-07:00The other woman in my lifeYes, another woman has come into my life. She has a soft voice, but she nags constantly. Yet I don't mind because without her I would not have any direction. As in literally no direction. But the best part is my lovely wife approves of this relationship. Now if anyone is expecting titillating details, I'm afraid they are in for a disappointment, as the story isn't as sordid as today's title indicates.<br />
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It all began back in April, when we accepted an invitation to a wedding in Whitehall, Michigan. Whitehall is a lovely resort town on the shore of Lake Michigan, with one drawback. It isn't the easiest place to get to. After going over our travel options, we decided to fly into Chicago O'hare, then rent a car for a pleasant four hour drive to Whitehall. As with most travel plans, the reality was completely different. The flight was fine, the drive was another matter.<br />
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We rented a shiny new Toyota Corolla, but despite my careful perusing Google Maps ahead of time for the best route to Whitehall, a type of sixth sense made me splurge for a Garmin GPS unit in the car. I should say that I have absolutely no sense of direction, and unless I have detailed maps that I've memorized, heaven knows where I'll end up. And I have had issues with Google Maps in the past. So for renting the Garmin unit...<br />
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Best. Decision. Ever.<br />
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The default voice for the Garmin was Jill. It was easy to program in the address of the hotel we would be staying at, and I figured since it was noon, that traffic getting out of Chicago would be fairly light.<br />
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Worst. Assumption. Ever.<br />
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It's a fairly short drive from O'Hare to the freeway, and from there about a 30 mile drive to get out of town. Unfortunately, Chicago is determined to be the traffic jam nightmare of the known universe. The traffic was at a near standstill for no apparent reason except for way too many vehicles and way too little road surface. I wasn't sure if there were other reasons, such as a wreck up ahead, the entire city having an early start on getting out of town for the weekend, or more folks had been invited to the wedding we were going to than we thought and all lived in Chicago.<br />
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Fortunately the weather was clear and mild, though a torrential thunderstorm wouldn't have made any difference. After guiding me to the freeway, Jill was silent until saying, "Keep left." I didn't pay attention until realizing my lane was about to split off to a different freeway, and I had to get over a couple of lanes. I'm usually as calm in heavy traffic as someone trying to defuse a bomb while blindfolded, so I put on the blinkers, and eased over while hoping whoever was next to me would take pity and let me in front.<br />
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Finally after a couple of tense hours, we were out of Chicago, and after discovering the car actually had more gears than just first, finally picked up speed and were on our way. After getting to Whitehall, Jill really proved her worth. Whitehall is a lovely town, but for navigation the assumption is you are a native and can ignore the almost complete lack of details like street signs. Google maps would have been completely useless because of this, so Ms. Garmin was allowed to take complete control of my life. And yes, with my wife's approval, though there were times we doubted her sanity.<br />
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We would be directed down roads for what appeared to be no other reason than Jill just wanting to be on that road. At one point, my wife said, "She's crazy!" I did have some apprehension that we had rented an insane GPS unit from a Stephen King novel and were being led to our doom. But we learned patience, and Jill always got us exactly where we wanted to go.<br />
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Unfortunately, no technology could do anything about the horrendous traffic once again, in the middle of the day, when we returned to Chicago. Nor do anything about my nerves of wet noodles in said traffic. But on the flight home, we decided to get a Garmin unit of our own. We first used her, (I still selected the Jill voice), on a trip to San Antonio, which has a street pattern best described as Chaos Theory. Which meant I often heard her saying, "Recalculating," when I missed a turn. But in the end she was always right. After all, she is a woman.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-66580491185985290842011-10-23T21:33:00.000-07:002011-10-23T22:00:23.548-07:00Planes and ThingsAfter neglecting this blog for way too long, I thought I'd start back up with one of my favorite subjects, airplanes. Last weekend I ventured to the Wings Over Houston airshow at Ellington Field south of Houston. This was y third show, and as always it was a treat. The main sponsor, as before, is the Commemorative Air Force, though I still prefer their previous wonderfully politically incorrect name, the Confederate Air Force. This group of volunteers is passionate about locating and restoring old planes, mostly from WWII. Since they are based in Texas, Wings Over Houston is an ideal place to show off the results of their efforts.<br /><br />In addition to restoring planes, they have modified existing aircraft, mostly the North American T-6 trainer from the mid 1930's, to resemble aircraft that no longer exist or if so, cannot be restored to flying condition. These are usually Japanese aircraft from the war, and many of these modifications have been used in movies. For the airshow, these and restored American planes from that era are used in a spectacular flyby. To add the drama, this airshow has pyrotechnics, so a recreation of the attack on Pearl Harbor is accompanied by some pretty spectacular explosions in the field next to the runway.<br /><br />What really made this show special was the flight demo of the only flyable B-29 bomber in the world. Since this is the plane my dad flew in during the war, that made the demo even more special. I know if he could have been there to see it he would not have been able to contain his emotions.<br /><br />After the B-29 landed, I got up for a closer look. Amazing how a 70 year old design can still look impressive. For a small fortune, it's possible to arrange a flight in it. I had this vision of Dad making that arrangement, then taking over the controls and muttering, "This thing had better have a full load of bombs because I have some old scores to settle."<br /><br />The show wrapped up with a military demonstration team. Unlike the last two years, neither the Thunderbirds or Blue Angels were available, so this time it was the Canadian Air Force Snowbirds. Any attempt to refer to them as the Flying Caribous would probably have not been appreciated. <br /><br />Anyway, they put on a good show with very precise maneuvers. They use ten planes, so that is a lot of coordination. The only downside is the plane in question is the ancient CT-114 Tutor, a trainer that entered service in 1961, and with the exception of the Snowbirds, is no longer being flown. Since it is an indigenous Canadian design, I suppose it is a matter of national pride that the Snowbirds keep using it, but it is not designed for high speed flight. This somewhat limits what the team could do. But still, they were a delight to watch.<br /><br />The only downside was the return drive, which should have taken an hour, took three because of road construction. Since I drive an ancient car with a stick shift, the stop and go traffic was sheer torture. I should be getting some feeling back in my clutch foot any day now.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-49388005306751070372011-05-27T11:56:00.000-07:002011-05-27T12:33:25.009-07:00MomIt was a year ago that my Mom passed away peacefully. Like my Dad, she was at least at home, and also like him, the end came with her still functioning well physically and mentally. For the last 29 years of her life she lived in her home state of Indiana. I visited numerous times, and at first it was strange because I had always associated the place my parents called home with the house I grew up in back in California. But I soon grew to like the house, especially after my parents added their personal touches.<br /><br />For Mom that meant keeping the place tidy, while for Dad it meant practically rebuilding it. Dad was a do it yourself type, and loved any projects that involved his hands. Plumbing, electrical, woodworking, painting, auto repair, it didn't matter, he could do it all. Though in the case of the house, (which is old), he often wondered what he had gotten himself into.<br /><br />Mom was more than happy to leave home projects like that to Dad, especially when something wasn't going quite right and he had to be creative with swearing in case either myself or my siblings were around. But she was a workaholic in many ways. She worked for much of her adult life, including almost her entire time in Indiana at the local hospital. She didn't retire until she was 82. <br /><br />Her heart issues kept her from having the energy she wanted, but that didn't slow her down. A family joke was at her services, her ghost would first vacuum and dust the church, scold any of her children if they were slouching in their seats, and then tell everyone her favorite pet stories.<br /><br />She loved animals, and two were among the joys of her life. When I was in high school, after finally outgrowing the boyhood pets of assorted turtles, fish, lizards and an undetermined species or two, (none of which lasted more than a few years), I pestered Mom about getting a dog. She wasn't too keen on the idea, but I persisted and one day answered an ad in the paper about six mixed breed puppies. I picked out the shyest one, who won Mom over and became the legendary Ruffles. <br /><br />Mom spoiled that dog rotten, but was rewarded with unconditional love and affection. When Ruffles finally passed on, Mom was inconsolable and never stopped talking about her. Then came her second special pet, a little feral kitten named Pixie. Pixie quickly learned how to wrap Mom around her little paw and found out in return just how good Ruffles had it. Whenever Mom and I talked on the phone the conversation always included Pixie's latest adventures. Considering she is pretty rambunctious, there was always an adventure.<br /><br />Mom would always ask about our cats, even though she never met them. I know she would have called weekly, if not more often, to hear the latest about the stray cat and kittens that ventured into the yard, and ended up being adopted, (details in a blog post to come). <br /><br />I'll always miss Mom, but there is the comfort that she is reunited with Dad, and her family members who went before her. And I'm sure Ruffles was at heaven's gate to greet her, though hopefully not with supper dish in her mouth as the dog did have a hearty appetite.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-57993117167378742462011-05-01T22:32:00.000-07:002011-05-01T22:41:06.257-07:00It's Been How Long?Can't believe it's been almost a year since I've posted. Much has happened in the meantime, the most important being the loss of my Mom last year. Of course I will have a post on that. There have been much happier events to share, such as the unexpected arrival of an abandoned cat and her four kittens we ended up adopting. <br /><br />More to come...Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-56058125889630176042010-05-23T20:58:00.000-07:002010-06-27T20:33:38.461-07:00Miscellaneous Ramblings On A Sunday EveningI'm winding down a pleasant weekend that started Friday with finally closing on a refinance of my mortgage. I wanted to take advantage of the lower interest rates, and since I went through the original lender, it should have been a breeze. Well, that was the theory. The reality is the bank was pretty dysfunctional in the last couple of weeks. It's a good thing I'm officially retired, though I do have a home based business, and am almost completely flexible with my time. The reason is that the closing was rescheduled four different times. If I had been still commuting to work, that would have meant taking time off four different times. And that would not have made me happy.<br /><br />But in the end it worked out, and starting in July I'll see a lower payment by close to $100 a month. Until I'm 85. No, really, I'll be paying for that long. But that's my choice. I planned well ahead for my retirement so I could afford to actually do so, meaning I'm not worried about losing my home in the future. One thing I insisted on was a 30 year fixed rate, the only type of loan that should exist. ARM's, interest only loans, etc. should be banned. Those have and still do sucker in those who have no business being home owners and within a few years find themselves without that home and hideously in debt, should have their fingernails ripped out one by one.<br /><br />But that was Friday. Saturday and Sunday were pleasant days spending quality time with horses, sipping wine on that back porch after sunset while being serenaded by the sounds of the night, gardening and of course preparing yet another masterpiece of a barbecue.<br /><br />At the same time I was following more news stories on the horrendous oil spill in the Gulf. This thing is a total fiasco besides being a potential environmental catastrophe. The fiasco part comes in two flavors. First, it's obvious there was no contingency plan on anyone's part, British Petroleum, Transocean, or Haliburton, should anything like this happen. Oil platforms by their nature are hazardous and every safety precaution has to be made to keep tragic accidents like this one from taking place. Still, conditions can arise that will lead to that accident. (And as an aside to that blithering idiot Rand Paul, just dismissing it as an accident with no accountability only proves he's as much of a moron as his father).<br /><br />However, there should have been redundant shut off valves in the pipeline so if one was damaged another could be used. And if oil was spilled, have a fleet of ships with containment gear on standby. It's ok if these ships are employed in other tasks when there isn't a spill, that just makes economic sense, but they should be considered as the National Guard, be ready for action when necessary.<br /><br />Then there's the controversy of using the dispersant Corexit. Basically this is a chemical that breaks down the oil so that bacteria in the water can more easily consume the oil. It works fairly well, but the toxic aftereffects aren't completely known. There are other, less toxic and more effective dispersants on the market, however, BP apparently has a rather cozy relationship with the manufacturer of Corexit.<br /><br />And of the government's response? Wow, a Presidential commission! We're saved! They'll just bluster and talk all that oil into slinking back into the blown out well. Or how about the EPA all of a sudden getting concerned about Corexit, (which they approved use of some years ago), and asking BP to use an alternative? In other words, the Federal government is doing its usual proverbial closing the barn door after the cows have escaped. Again, no planning ahead of time, no oversight on safety on the drilling platforms, then when a crisis hits the government does what it does best, go into complete panic mode with everyone running around trying to act and sound important.<br /><br />So what should be done? First duct tape the mouths of every lawyer, government official and BP executive. Second, plug the well. Third, clean up the spilled oil by any means possible, (and use an alternative to Corexit). Fourth, come up with a contingency plan in case of future incidents like this. If offshore drilling is going to be permitted in deep waters, then the excuse, "We have no idea what to do if things go wrong at this depth", just isn't going to fly.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-86120495845463112092010-05-16T21:41:00.000-07:002010-05-23T20:54:17.503-07:00Frogs Getting FruityNo, that isn't the title of a kinky porno film. One of the pleasures of living in this part of Texas is the rich and varied plant and animal life. At night you often get a chorus of critters; crickets, cicadas, the occasional owl and coyote, and then there's the frogs. Our back porch was frequently visited by a tree frog last summer that of course we named Kermit. As far as I know there were a number of Kermits, but seeing as how frogs don't wear name tags, I preferred the thought that one frog thought my porch was a special place.<br /><br />Since there are empty lots on either side of the house, plus a flood control ditch outside the sound wall, there is ample space for critter habitats. Whenever it rains, the more aquatic types, such as frogs, make a beeline for any newly formed bodies of water. Well, last Friday we had a whopper of a storm that left at least a couple inches of badly needed rain behind. For the frogs, it was as if they had suddenly ingested massive amounts of espresso. They were so bursting with energy they decided to express their joy in song.<br /><br />When my wife and I sat on the porch last night, we were deafened by serenading frogs. I could distinguish at least four distinct sounds, which I assumed came from four different species. Considering it is still Spring, (despite heat and humidity the last few days that are more indicative of August), it is probably safe to assume most of the frogs were looking for mates. The exception was one who made the rounds of the porch. It wasn't Kermit, though. I'm not sure what species it was, but apparently it was more interested in finding food than making tadpoles.<br /><br />But his mates were sowing their wild oats. At times the sounds seemed like they had reached a crescendo, so it was easy imagining a group of frogs enjoying the happy ending. That's ok, since the cycle of nature dictates a species must reproduce to survive.<br /><br />However, I will be thrilled if they can show as much enthusiasm in controlling the population explosion of bugs also brought out by the rain.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-51785734280823078142010-05-12T20:56:00.001-07:002010-05-23T20:58:34.289-07:00Blowing In The WindJune 1 is the start of a season I once followed out of curiosity, the Atlantic Hurricane Season. I would follow the storm tracks, play the guessing game of where they would go, and at the same time pray any harm would be minimal. It was an interesting exercise, especially since I was doing it from California, which has never been visited by a hurricane. Which is why there are earthquakes as compensation.<br /><br />Shortly before moving to the Houston area, hurricanes became personal. This started with Rita in 2005, that came way too close to where my wife was living at the time for comfort. Then in 2008, Ike made me realize I was about to trade my paranoia of earthquakes for the paranoia of hurricanes. It broadsided Galveston, (still the absolute worst place to build a city. Really now, sitting on a somewhat glorified sandbar that has no protection from tropical storms). By the time it reached my new house, (I had just mailed off the first mortgage payment), it had lost some of its punch. But it was such a massive storm it took a long time to pass through the area. That persistence, plus sustained high gale force winds, knocked down many trees in the area. We were lucky none of the ones near the house toppled over.<br /><br />The house survived without a scratch, though before buying it, I don't remember anyone saying an actual demonstration of how it met the new Texas wind resistance standards would be part of the sales presentation. Still the power was out for almost a week after.<br /><br />So what will I do if another one looks like it's getting close? Besides run around screaming in panic you mean? I have done some stocking up on water, (though more will be needed), batteries, non perishable food items, and an item lacking from last time, an ordinary plug in land line phone. During Ike I was out of state on business, and my wife had several digital phones in the house. Which meant when the power went out, so did they. She was able to call on her cell phone to let me know everything was ok. However, the car charger for her cell wasn't working so she had to conserve the phone's battery. Actually, the charger was fine, it was the outlet in the car that was on the fritz.<br /><br />The predictions for this year are a more active than usual season. Oh joy. But with all weather predictions beyond say five days out, these predictions need to be taken with many large grains of salt. For most people, even one storm is one too many if it is parked in their neighborhood. At least there is one truth about hurricanes vs. earthquakes, with hurricanes you do get some warning, forget it with earthquakes.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-59203776012649176222010-05-08T22:01:00.000-07:002010-05-08T22:33:44.677-07:00Going BuggyWith the weather warming up the most interesting wildlife around the house has come out of its Winter dormancy. The Houston area has four seasons, Winter, (which is usually between noon and 15 minutes later on January 3, a day later in El Nino years), Almost Summer, So Gawdawful Miserable The Devil Himself Would Flee Houston For Hades To Escape The Heat, and finally, Still Summer. We're in Almost Summer now. The other evening I decided to mow the grass, and discovered when the heat and humidity have picked up that the evenness of the grass after cutting takes second place to the shortest distance necessary for the mower to do the job. There's also the little factor that the size of my lawn increases with the temperature. What was a couple months ago a respectably sized lot has grown to cover at least three timezones. <br /><br />But back to the wildlife. My wife and I enjoy sitting on the back porch in the evening, (with the ceiling fans going with vigor, I had wondered why the porch even came with ceiling fans until last summer, then discovered they make a huge difference in making the porch habitable in Summer). Anyway, we often have visitors of the multi-legged kind. The furry types, (raccoons, possums, skunks, usually trundle along the back wall far from the porch, and in the case of the skunks that is a good thing). The insect type prefer the porch itself.<br /><br />In true Texas fashion, most of these insects are big. Really big. As in able to fly off with small children and Smart cars. My favorites are:<br /><br />Walking Limb: In most places these would be Walking Sticks, critters with long, thin bodies that can be mistaken as twigs when they are standing still. Which is the intent. I saw one that was at least four inches long and could have been used to play fetch if I had a dog.<br /><br />UFO Detector: I just saw this the other night. This is a rather large beetle with antenna many times the length of its body. I figure with antenna that size it can pick up FM stations in at least 38 states, monitor SETI, and provide air traffic control for Bush International Airport.<br /><br />Suicide Beetles: These are brown beetles at least an inch long, that buzz with enough racket to drown out a chainsaw, then fly erratically, often colliding with nearby objects, usually my head, with enough force to leave a dent. You can tell old time Texans because x-rays of their skull reveal a surface marked like a golf ball. When the beetles hit the ground, they usually flip over on their backs, waving their legs feebly in the air. If flipped back over, they will walk a few inches, then often flip back on their backs and kick the bucket. Evolution had a sense of humor when these critters emerged.<br /><br />Shelob: Lord of the Rings fans are familiar with the giant spider that thinks hobbits are a tasty treat. The inspiration for this creature must have come from seeing the spiders around here. When I go out back I usually am armed with a flamethrower in case I encounter one. That may sound a bit extreme, but a shotgun only makes them mad.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-52122926520493072402010-03-10T18:45:00.000-08:002010-03-10T19:16:03.259-08:00Return To CaliforniaNo, I haven't moved back from Texas. I went back last week to attend my aunt's services. She was a warm hearted woman who led a quiet life. She never married, though she was engaged to a soldier who died as a prisoner of war during the second world war. She kept her engagement ring in a lock box, and his photo was always on her nightstand. So it was decided that these be placed in her casket. That was very touching gesture and one she would have appreciated.<br /><br />I spent a lot of time with my family still in the Bay Area, my two younger brothers and my youngest brother's wife. They were my aunt's primary caretakers during her last year and a half of life and deserve all the credit possible for sacrificing so much time and effort in doing so. <br /><br />The services themselves were quiet and dignified. The priest who said the Mass remembered me, even though I was only in high school when we last met. I hoped the remembrance wasn't for something dumb I did as his altar boy some Sunday. <br /><br />I took an extra day before heading back home and went into San Francisco. That was an odd experience because even though I spent fifty years living in the Bay Area, I did not feel that comfortable being there. This was probably because I no longer had any roots, such as a home, in that region. Plus my last few years there were not very pleasant. <br /><br />Also some of my favorite stomping grounds no longer existed. I had spent countless hours browsing Stacey's Books on Market Street. They had an amazing collection of just about everything in print. Plus they had guest authors every week. That was how I got to meet my two favorites, Clive Cussler and Scott Adams. But sadly it closed last year. Also closed since I've left is Virgin Records. Again this was a place that had everything, music, videos, books, the works. Two other favorite haunts had closed just before I moved to Texas, Scenario Games in Fremont and San Antonio Hobbies in Mountain View. They were incredible hobby shops where again I spent many hours, (and dollars).<br /><br />I did take a stroll through Chinatown, and was pleased it had not changed. Back to downtown San Francisco, I also noticed some other things had not changed, starting with the complete lack of manners. I like how in Texas total strangers will acknowledge your existence and say hello when you pass them on the street or in a parking lot. In San Francisco they act like you are an intrusion on their personal space, will rarely greet you, and if walking towards you make little to no effort to move aside so you don't run into them. It was that type of attitude I was glad to leave behind.<br /><br />I stopped by my old office and that was an interesting experience. A lot of people were genuinely glad to see me and engaged in chitchat about what had happened since I left. Basically, not much had changed. Unfortunately I briefly saw my ex landlady, she greeted me with her usual phony smile and cheerful voice. I just grunted something in reply and kept on walking.<br /><br />One friend asked if I wanted to come back to work. I think my emphatic, "Hell No!" was an appropriate response. I had a very enjoyable talk with my old supervisor. She said once again she never really did understand exactly what it was I did, but I didn't cause her any problems so I must have been doing a good job. All in all, it was a good visit to the office, though strange as in the feeling that I really didn't belong there. <br /><br />Driving in the Bay Area again was another experience. I noticed drivers were going much closer to the speed limit instead of the "pedal to the metal look at me I'm an arrogant jerk driving like an idiot" style I was used to. I concluded there were two reasons. First gas prices are significantly higher there than in other parts of the country. Second, the roads had noticeably deteriorated since I left, and going fast would shake your car to pieces... literally.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-18913592489015279042009-12-16T20:41:00.000-08:002009-12-16T21:01:52.858-08:00Stoned Fairies And Other PhenomenaI just realized it's been ages since I've done any updates. So where to begin? How about with the Texas Renaissance Festival? I went once before, five years ago, and was quite impressed. This time we went the day after Thanksgiving, partly to take advantage of half price admission. <br /><br />One problem, it looked like the entire state of Texas had the same idea. The fair is located about 25 miles from where we live, which would normally be about a 35 minute drive. Well.... this one was almost two and a half hours. Fortunately we took my wife's car, which is an automatic. Since mine is a stick shift, the drive would have been a nightmare.<br /><br />But we persevered and finally made it, and it was worth the effort. I had been to the northern California version of the Renaissance Faire many times, and always enjoyed myself. The last time was also five years ago, and I was rather disappointed. It just felt somewhat cheesy and run down. Not so with the Texas version. First, in the true grand Texas manner, it is huge. Tons of vendors, lots of shows, great food, and the decor is quite elaborate. It is almost sensory overload from all the sites and sounds.<br /><br />Our favorite show from the last time, "Bold And Stupid Men," wasn't around, which is a shame as it was hilarious. But there were many others that were very entertaining. One I enjoyed was a musician playing a clarrion, a keyboard that controlled an elaborate series of bells. It was very impressive. Naturally one of the songs played was "Carol Of The Bells."<br /><br />There were some amazing costumes, but one that stood out was a young woman dressed as a fairy. Her costume was well done, but she looked like she had smoked a bowl of Mendocino Gold. I kept bumping into her throughout the day, and she always had the same half smile and glazed over eyes. One had to wonder after a while if she was a performer at the fair, an attendee dressed in costume, or if that really wasn't a costume but what she wore every day whether at the fair or not.<br /><br />If she ever visits Berkeley, I'm afraid no one would notice.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-44963020998707488532009-11-01T18:24:00.000-08:002009-11-01T18:59:47.772-08:00Wings Over HoustonI spent Halloween day with a friend at the Wings Over Houston airshow at Ellington Airport. Ellington's claim to fame is it is used by the Johnson Space Center, and has even seen the space shuttle stop by on occasion. <br /><br />I love air shows, one of my earliest memories is my Dad taking me to one in Albuquerque when I was four years old. I clearly remember being able to identify by sight several types of planes, and could only conclude dad had shown me pictures and told me the names before the show. I thought it was fitting that my friend took along his four year old son. It was the lad's first show, and he is a very smart and well behaved child. He had a blast at the show.<br /><br />There were several static displays of contemporary and historic military aircraft. But three highlights of the show really stood out. First, Texas is home to the Commemorative Air Force, once known by the rather politically incorrect name of the Confederate Air Force. This group has been around for several decades, and is a collection of aviation enthusiasts. They dedicate themselves to locating and restoring old military planes, with emphasis on World War 2 examples. <br /><br />They have contributed many aircraft and pilots, to movies. In the late 1960's they participated in the Battle of Britain film. However, I doubt any of them were given speaking roles seeing as how most of them are Texans. Somehow a pilot telling the late Sir Lawrence Olivier, "Yeeehaaaaaaa!!! We got the Germans and the damn Yankees on the run!" may not have quite fit in with the atmosphere of England in 1940.<br /><br />They had enough P-51 Mustangs to form an aerial demonstration team. Another demo was recreating the attack on Pearl Harbor with about a dozen replicas of the Japanese planes that participated. This was complete with some pretty spectacular pyrotechnics. They flew over a grass field next to the runway, which then erupted with some great looking explosions. Meanwhile you had sound effects of frantic officers giving orders, anti aircraft guns opening up and air raid sirens. It was loud, and it was great.<br /><br />Some other demos were a huge C-17 transport flying with an ancient C-47. The C-47 looked like it was flying with the pedal to the metal, (they weren't renowned for their speed), while the C-17 pilot was hoping he wouldn't suck the poor C-47 into an engine.<br /><br />Meanwhile, back on the ground there was a display of a C-130 that the Hurricane Hunters use. Plus the crew was on hand to demonstrate their equipment and answer questions. I told one they did a great job this past season since no hurricanes hit Texas. I imagine when these guys fly commercial, they aren't the least bothered by turbulence. They are dedicated and certainly brave, after all anyone who actually wants to fly inside a hurricane is a cut above the rest of us. It was interesting hearing what they see inside a hurricane. I had always envisioned it as a constant dark gray, but in reality you see all shades of gray, and then you break into swaths of clear sky between storm bands. The eeriest is the eye, which is crystal clear, blue sky surrounded by cloud bands.<br /><br />I did wonder if anyone who applies to fly with them must first of all have no next of kin. And in case they had to abandon the plane in the middle of the storm, I have a feeling the exchange with the Coast Guard would go something like, "We're in the ocean floating in the middle of a category 5 hurricane, when can you pick us up?" "Nothing personal guys, but you're on your own."<br /><br />The highlight of the show was the Blue Angels. As many times as I've seen them, I am always in awe of their skill and steel nerves. I saw them last year in San Francisco a few weeks before starting my trip to live in Texas. My ex landlady hated them. She said, "Oh I hate those jets. I was trying to talk on the phone but they were so loud I had to tell the person I was talking to I'd call back." My reply, "What you heard was the sound of our armed forces giving you the right to be selfish, self centered and not have any appreciation for the sacrifices they make so we can have the freedoms we enjoy."<br /><br />All in all, it was a spectacular show, and probably the best I've ever seen. I'm already looking forward to next year's show.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-43781153838424690632009-10-09T16:54:00.000-07:002009-10-09T17:16:57.935-07:00So Where's My Award?... For good intentions. Not sure what those intentions are, but I should be rewarded for them. After all, if Obama can be given to Nobel Peace Prize for his good intentions after only two weeks in office, then I deserve one. <br /><br />The point of course is that an award should only be given after you actually accomplish something. A director intending to produce a great movie isn't given an Academy Award until the movie is made. A baseball player intending to have a great season doesn't win the Most Valuable Player award until the season is over and he's actually had a great season. <br /><br />Perhaps before his term is over, Obama will negotiate a lasting peace treaty in the Mideast or something else that actually is deserving of this award. But for the Nobel committee to give him this award is not only way premature, but it makes what has already become an award tainted by some of the recent recipients an absolute joke. I am very disappointed the President accepted it. If he had any integrity he would have said, "I'm flattered, but am not worthy."<br /><br />Personally I would be offended if offered the Nobel Peace Prize. And for two reasons, first it was given to Yasser Arafat, a terrorist who when he was giving the face of turning into a respectable political leader used the opportunity to rob his own people blind.<br /><br />Second was when Al Gore was the recipient, along with the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, (IPCC). IPCC is a shameful political organization baying at the moon on "climate change." They have been discredited as shills with no credibility, but they are well funded with their eyes on stealing even more money from governments and businesses sadly caving in to their shenanigans. <br /><br />Al Gore of course is in the hip pocket of IPCC. But what galls me the most, is another nominee the year he won was Irena Sendler, who nearly died from her tireless efforts to save Jewish children from the Warsaw Ghetto in World War Two. She rescued 2500 children, getting them false documents to hide their identities. Here's her story, courtesy of newsbusters.org:<br /><br />Irena Sendler, born in 1910, was raised by her Catholic parents to respect and love people regardless of their ethnicity or social status. Her father, a physician, died from typhus that he contracted during an epidemic in 1917. He was the only doctor in his town near Warsaw who would treat the poor, mostly Jewish victims of this tragic disease. As he was dying, he told 7-year-old Irena, "If you see someone drowning you must try to rescue them, even if you cannot swim."<br /><br />In 1939 the Nazis swept through Poland and imprisoned the Jews in ghettos where they were first starved to death and then systematically murdered in killing camps. Irena, by than a social worker in Warsaw, saw the Jewish people drowning and resolved to do what she could to rescue as many as possible, especially the children. Working with a network of other social workers and brave Poles, mostly women, she smuggled 2,500 children out of the Warsaw ghetto and hid them safely until the end of the war. Sendler took great risks - obtaining forged papers for the children, disguising herself as an infection control nurse, diverting German occupation funds for the support of children in hiding. She entered the Warsaw ghetto, sometimes two and three times a day, and talked Jewish parents into giving up their children.<br /><br />Sendler drugged the babies with sedatives and smuggled them past Nazi guards in gunny sacks, boxes and coffins. She helped the older ones escape through the sewers, through secret openings in the wall, through the courthouse, through churches, any clever way she and her network could evade the Nazis. Once outside the ghetto walls, Sendler gave the children false names and documents and placed them in convents, orphanages and with Polish families. In 1942 the Polish underground organization ZEGOTA recruited her to lead their Children's Division, providing her with money and support. Her hope was that after the war she could reunite the children with surviving relatives, or at least return their Jewish identities.<br /><br />To that end she kept thin tissue paper lists of each child's Jewish name, their Polish name and address. She hid the precious lists in glass jars buried under an apple tree in the back yard of one of her co-conspirators. In 1943 Irena Sendler was arrested, tortured and sentenced to death by firing squad. She never divulged the location of the lists or her Polish underground contacts. At the last moment she was saved by ZEGOTA which bribed a guard to secure her freedom. She still bears the scars and disability of her torture.<br /><br />What isn't added is that after her rescue, she went back to her rescue work. So how many lives did Al Gore save?Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-3289203617764177692009-10-01T19:33:00.000-07:002009-10-01T19:58:28.271-07:00My Life Is Now CompleteBut first a techie rant. Can anyone explain why iTunes makes burning a CD of your playlist as difficult as possible? One would think there would be a drop down menu item with "Burn CD" but that would be too easy. Instead you click on an obscure icon at the bottom of the screen, select a playlist, then remember to right click to bring up the burn CD option. Really intuitive... not! It all works after a fashion but for a company that prides itself on easy to use software they really fell asleep at the switch on this one.<br /><br />Ok, now about the title of this post. When I was growing up, my dad always mowed the lawn. In Livermore, we only had a front lawn, as the backyard was taken up by various shrubs, patios, tetherball courts, swingsets and raised planters, so no grass to mow. Being a do it yourselfer, and being particular about how the yard looked, Dad never asked any of us to help. That was ok with me, as it meant one less household chore.<br /><br />After moving away from home, I was in several apartments, which meant no lawn, though the ghastly green shag carpet in one tried vainly to achieve at least the visual of one though failing miserably at it. I then bought the townhouse in Fremont, which had a small lawn in front that the homeowners association took care of. The landscapers usually did this very early in the morning and with lawnmowers so raucous they would make a jet engine at full power in the living room seem peaceful.<br /><br />Then last year it was the move to Texas, and to a house with a nice big lawn. However, my wife, who has the green thumb, (I've been known to kill silk plants), insisted on doing the mowing. Fortunately, she had a self propelled lawnmower, but still the size of the yard combined with the heat of Texas summers made yard care something that required careful planning. As for me... well, her insistence on mowing the lawn kept up my tradition of getting out of a household chore.<br /><br />Then last night she had a lot time sensitive work to get done for her web based job. However, the back lawn was in desperate need of mowing, and as usual there wasn't a herd of goats handy for the job. Being the gallant gentleman I am, I volunteered. Uhmmm... volunteered to mow the lawn, not make like a goat and eat it.<br /><br />So with visions of either chasing a runaway mower down the street, or worse mulching my wife's tenderly cared for flowers and shrubs, I got to work. It took a few minutes to get the hang of controlling the mower, but once I got going I felt very... domestic. And fulfilled, uplifted even. I could feel Dad looking down from heaven, and saying, "You missed a spot, those rows are uneven... oh never mind, I'll be down to do it myself."<br /><br />But when I was done, my wife was pleased. Partially because it got her out of a household chore. I didn't have enough daylight to do the edging, but something tells me there is a weedwhacker in my future.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-14462757554570786312009-09-29T19:17:00.000-07:002009-09-29T19:36:35.714-07:00How Do You Climb The Corporate Ladder When You Are The Ladder?One of the nicest things about being your own boss is you can set your hours, and you have better working conditions than in an office. Unless of course your office has something like Larry Ellison or Bill Gates on the door. In this case the office is usually something like a yacht the size of an aircraft carrier, often with a corporate jet parked on the deck and accommodations so lavish they would make King Tut feel self conscious. <br /><br />My work conditions are quite nice since I have a room set up in my home with everything I need. I still don't have the cats trained to fetch me food and drink from the kitchen yet, so I'm forced to make the sacrifice and actually take care of that myself.<br /><br />But there are plenty of other perks. Start with... no meetings! I figure in a corporate environment, (and in many ways there is no difference between that of private industry and government), you can end up spending a third of your career zoning out in meetings. Not that zoning out is a bad thing, and in meetings it's probably the most productive use of your time. Zoning out is not recommended at all times, however, as for someone like an airline pilot it is a bad thing.<br /><br />Another great perk is no managers. I give myself directions, and expect myself to follow them. And if I don't, make up excuses. And if I don't believe my own excuses, then I can fire myself. Hmmmm... wonder if I could get unemployment if I do that? It could be worth a try.<br /><br />But the work does bring in a bit of income, and it helps give me a sense of self worth. I'm embarking on a new venture soon, selling training software called LearningZen. It's a great looking product, and I hope I can make a go of it. I would also like to be taken on as a contractor to EPA, and am preparing a proposal. Hopefully all this will work. I have no feeling one way or another what will transpire, but as they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-49521400338427366692009-09-15T21:12:00.000-07:002009-09-15T21:37:54.907-07:00More Rambling ThoughtsWhen I was with EPA, I got in a fair amount of travel. This was partly because I was in demand for my data consultation services, and partly because my boss could get some peace and quiet by having me out of the office. Last week I had my first business trip since retiring and setting up my own business. It was to the Hualapai reservation in northwest Arizona. They are a client, and a good group to work with. The visit itself went smoothly. I came way with a better understanding of what I'm expected to provide.<br /><br />The trip itself made me wish I could find a surplus Harrier jump jet at the local airport I could buy. It would have saved me a lot of driving, which ended up taking a lot more time than the actual flights. I decided to take the cheaper flight to Phoenix instead of the longer and more expensive one to Las Vegas. For a start, any flight out of Houston means careful planning, beginning with getting to the main airport, (Bush), in the first place. The traffic to Houston is god awful at rush hour, so my first task was getting flights in off hours. I decided on a 4 PM departure, and return flight that would get me in at about 8 PM. So far, so good. <br /><br />I threw a couple days worth of travel gear, including my laptop of course, into the trunk of the faithful Corolla and set out. The drive to the airport was uneventful. I left the car at a very well run and convenient off airport parking lot, took a shuttle to the terminal... and proceeded to walk 512 miles to the gate for my flight. Bush is spread out. I got to the gate, and was promptly told the plane to Phoenix was broken and I'd have to wait for a new unbroken one before I could be on my way. Oh well... it gave me time to start on the latest Clive Cussler novel, Spartan Gold. As an aside, it's not his best, but it ended up being entertaining.<br /><br />Finally, I was in the air, and two and a half hours later, was in Phoenix. First time I've flown into there in about 20 years. First time I've rented a car there. First time I found out the car rental center is located somewhere just north of Wyoming. Fortunately there is a free shuttle from the airport to the car rental center. More fortunately, the shuttle had functioning ac, which in Phoenix is always a good thing.<br /><br />I got the car, a rather nice Nissan Versa. But I was disappointed. I was staying in Kingman, which is off old Route 66, so a 1963 Corvette would have been much more appropriate, as fans of the old TV show by the name would appreciate. But sadly, the last one had been rented out just before my arrival. Next time....<br /><br />Anyway, by this time it was starting to get dark. But at least the rush hour traffic, (and it is brutal in Phoenix), was pretty much over. The drive itself was ok, and I was treated to a pretty nifty lightning display a few miles off the freeway. The downside was the drive was over 4 hours. So counting the time from my house to the Houston airport, waiting for my flight, actual flight time, driving time from Phoenix to Kingman... and let's just say it was a very long day. By the time I got to my hotel, I wasn't in the mood to tack on a couple more hours of driving to party in Vegas.<br /><br />The return drive was made during the day, so I got to see the scenery I missed since the first drive was made at night. And there was some quite nice scenery, enough so that I want to return and tack on a day or so to play tourist. I especially want to see more of the Grand Canyon, and then divert to Sedona afterward. <br /><br />Now if I can just be certain that 1963 Corvette is available.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-70488586683230262982009-08-27T19:59:00.000-07:002009-09-15T21:12:17.458-07:00Chasing Their TailsMy mortgage is with a very large and old financial institution. Every month, I would make an electronic transfer from my checking account, (who is with another very large and old financial institution) to the first bank. Then in July, I thought I would set up automatic payments between the two banks. <br /><br />Bad decision.<br /><br />Bank A, has an issue, their customer service is run by complete idiots. For a start, the payment transfer took eight days. That is not acceptable, so I went online and canceled the transfer set up. I got an email stating this had been done. <br /><br />August 1, I went back to my original method of going online to manually transfer the payment from bank B to bank A. No problem there, until a week later I noticed bank A, despite the cancellation of automatic payments... had done just made a transfer from bank B. <br /><br />So... I called the customer support number of bank A. Major problem, there is no freaking option to talk to a live person. None, zilch, nada. So I sent an email requesting if the overpayment could be refunded, and this time to absolutely, positively, without a doubt, cancel the automatic payments.<br /><br />Got an email back saying, "This matter will be investigated." A week later, got a phone call from a live person from Bank A. I was shocked, I didn't think they had any actual personnel. He told me to fax proof of the transfer, including the bank statement from Bank B with the transaction I wanted refunded. Did that, then waited.<br /><br />Today got a letter from Bank A, asking for the same information I faxed well over a week ago. Sent yet another email saying forget the refund, since it is so close to September, make the overpayment the September payment. Here is what I think will happen, the idiots will sent me an email saying they will do that. In the meantime they will send me a refund check. They will then ask where is the September payment.<br /><br />Monday I'm heading to the local branch of Bank A, and will not surprised to find only ATM machines instead of people working inside. And if I do track down a living person, I'm betting I'll just be given the same phone number that does not give you the option of talking to a real person. <br /><br />Bank A also received a sizable bailout courtesy of Mr. Obama. I guess spending even a dime of it on actual customer service was never a consideration.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-32466194469195089232009-08-11T20:38:00.001-07:002009-08-17T18:52:47.162-07:00Cutting tiesI finally stopped procrastinating and applied for my Texas drivers license. I would have done it earlier, except going to DMV anywhere ranks with having my fingernails torn out one by one on my rank of life's pleasures. There are two universal truths about DMV offices. First, they are always crowded. Even if you are there the minute they open, the moment you step inside, the floor tiles will morph into a throng of people. <br /><br />Second, you will stand in line for a minimum of three hours. If a person in front of you dies of old age or starvation while waiting, the wait is still three hours. If there is only one person or one hundred in front of you, the wait is still three hours. It is inescapable. <br /><br />Fortunately I had the required mound of documents proving my existence so at least I didn't have the ecstasy of the three hour wait ending followed by the agony of being told I had to return another day with the missing document. <br /><br />One thing I noted was that the staff were actually polite and helpful. This was quite a contrast from the DMV's in California where surliness was a job requirement. When it was my turn, all I had to do was sign a couple of forms then have the picture taken. This of course turn out horribly, (another universal truth of DMV's everywhere, the picture looks like you've either had the worst fright of your life, the worst hangover of your life, or you've just been embalmed). I was a little disappointed I wasn't allowed to burn my old California license, since it was my last remaining tangible link to that state. We won't count my Cal hats, since that link is emotional rather than official.<br /><br />So I'm closer to being an official Texan. I was curious what the driver's test would be like, though I didn't have to take one. I figured it would be something like this:<br /><br />1. What activities are forbidden while driving in Texas?<br /><br />A. Running over Smart Cars with large trucks<br />B. Yelling "yeeeha" when you pass another vehicle<br />C. Reloading your gun<br /><br />Answer: C - The gun should already be loaded.<br /><br />2. When driving on a rural road, you must yield right of way to which of the following?<br /><br />A. Cattle<br />B. Horses<br />C. Bigger trucks than yours<br /><br />Answer: All three<br /><br />3. When coming to a four way stop, who has right of way?<br /><br />A. Smart Cars<br />B. Pickups with off road tires so big they blot out the sun<br />C. Cadillacs with longhorns mounted on the front of the hood<br /><br />Answer: C - B is tempting, but the Cadillac driver most likely is a rich rancher or oilman who can sue your behind for all it's worth.<br /><br />As an aside, jaywalking in Texas is not advised as you can get impaled on the longhorns of those Cadillacs. As for Smart Cars, they are handy for getting around inside Walmart.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-47915589601285920202009-07-22T20:10:00.000-07:002009-08-11T20:38:00.520-07:00City Council MeetingNormally I avoid politics, but I made sure to attend the Tomball City Council meeting Monday night since Grand Texas was on the agenda. Mind you, no votes or decisions were made by the council, and it was clear they wanted information, mostly since all they knew about this disaster in waiting of a theme park was what they read in the papers.<br /><br />The meeting was packed, with an overflow crowd standing on the sides of the room and even spilling out into the hall. The Grand Texas supporters, (most of whom I strongly suspect work for one of the developers partners and were told be there or be fired), numbered about a dozen. They were easy to spot, they all wore cheaply made Grand Texas stickers. Those of us opposing the project and the curious in the audience didn't wear any stickers. I felt like we were in a guerrilla war and wanted to blend in with the civilian population.<br /><br />Before the Council started discussing business, they allowed meeting attendees a few minutes to say what's on their minds. Anyone at the meeting is first encouraged to fill out a short form with their names and addresses, and can then write down a subject and vote in favor or against. My neighborhood had already selected a spokesperson for us. He did a great job, pointing out how this theme park would be detrimental in terms of noise, crime, and decreased property values. <br /><br />Five other speakers from close by neighborhoods also spoke. Each was respectful, had done their research, and presented strong cases. Afterward the votes of those who filled out the forms were tallied, and it came out to 5 in favor, 26 opposed. Interesting so few of the sticker wearers voted, though even if all did they would have still been badly outnumbered.<br /><br />One oddity, and this showed the lack of integrity of the developer, was that the Mayor said she had received a request that each speaker say if they lived in the Tomball city limits. Considering his whining about "outsiders" opposing his project, it's obvious he was the one who made the request. While it is true that the neighborhoods that would be most impacted by this park are literally across the street from the city limits, I thought his shenanigans showed even more of the developers lack of character. We'll ignore the little fact that he lives in The Woodlands, which is much farther than across the street from Tomball, like about 15 miles away.<br /><br />Plus, there is nothing stopping Tomball from annexing these neighborhoods, (right now they are in an unincorporated part of Harris County).<br /><br />The developer was allowed to give a presentation, and as expected he launched into an infomercial. He tried to alleviate concerns over noise, which generated a derisive "Wrong" and a bunch of snickers from the back of the room, and then made unsubstantiated claims traffic wouldn't be an issue. He then said that the park's attractions that would generate the most noise would be severely restricted in days and times of operation. Considering these are the only attractions charging admission, and it's even more a head scratcher how this place is going to make a dime of profit.<br /><br />He was caught on one inaccuracy by a Council member. Another wanted to discuss what he's been reading in the pretty active blogs about the park, but was told by the mayor that this could be construed as personal issues and not for discussion in a council meeting. That was disappointing as it would have really livened things up.<br /><br />The developer made one very odd statement, that during the wild west shootout re-creations, the guns would use blanks instead of real bullets. I guess that's a good thing, since I don't think anyone wants to go to a park with live bullets flying around.<br /><br />I sat behind the developer the entire meeting and I feel I earned my right of sainthood by not repeatedly smacking him in the back of the head. My impression is he is not very impressive, and has received a taste of what he's up against. I hope at this point that his financing falls through, and he slinks away never to bother Tomball again.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-82256115612621871642009-07-18T23:19:00.000-07:002009-07-19T07:51:52.188-07:00Texas Is Grand But This Theme Park Sure Isn'tMy community has been in an uproar lately over a proposed theme park called Grand Texas, that if built would unfortunately be only a block from my house. In theory, the park is supposed to "celebrate the spirit of Texas" with educational displays of Texas history, including the oil industry, agricultural displays, and also contain unique shops, a recreation of the governor's mansion, and an outdoor amphitheater for musical acts.<br /><br />Theory is one thing, reality is another. The developer is a shady realtor from California, and a good example of the type of people I was glad to leave behind when I moved from there to Texas last year. He's a smooth talker who claims to love Texas so much and embrace her values you think he had an ancestor who fought at the Alamo. However, he is what is commonly known as a "carpetbagger." The term arose after the Civil War, when northerners moved to the South and started taking over politically. Their motives were power and above all, greed since they abused their positions to steal all they could through bribes, intimidation and outright theft.<br /><br />As for the park itself, the developer for a start has yet to purchase the land. His dream for financing is to con local businesses into investing in the park, and for a guaranteed annual return of 12%. Oh please, the only person who could guarantee that rate of return is Bernie Madoff, and he is now spending 150 years as Bubba's Boy Toy. The Grand Texas developer has also been very active in the press, claiming that construction has already started, (he hasn't even submitted a thing to the city of Tomball planning department, let alone the above mentioned not owning the land yet, if ever). Yep, classic carpetbagger.<br /><br />Maybe he got away with this tactic in the Los Angeles area where he came from, but there are strict procedures here that he has not followed. Needless to say, there is strong opposition. He has duped some residents into supporting him, but the neighborhoods that would be most affected have drawn together, gotten organized, and are making it very clear to the city of Tomball that this is a very poor location for this type of park. In addition to the noise, the fact that admission will be free will attract criminal elements looking for easy prey. And when the park closes at night, they will be looking for targets of opportunity, which will include my neighborhood.<br /><br />As for this park "celebrating the spirit of Texas" one major attraction would be a paintball facility. Yep, that's sure to be a genuine Texas experience. I can see why the Alamo fell, "The Mexican army has muskets and some idiot gave us paintball guns?"<br /><br />The land this park would be located on is currently zoned residential, so it would have to be rezoned commercial first. I am definitely not anti development, and would love to see either a business park or a shopping center that blends with the surrounding area, which is heavily wooded so saving as many trees as possible is very desirable. But an outsider with only a short history in Texas, and who doesn't even live in Tomball, (he's in the Woodlands, about a half hour's drive from Tomball, it's a master planned community, very nice to look at, but very sterile in atmosphere and well insulated culturally), is not the type of person you want telling you what is best for your community.<br /><br />Lately he has been swinging from playing the role of agitator, "Outsiders are trying to stop Grand Texas" to victim, "Why all these personal attacks?" As for the agitator, yes it is true technically my neighborhood is outside the city limits, however we patronize Tomball businesses, and above all would be the most affected. As for the victim, the developer has posted several times in a popular real estate blog, though his words ring hollow. He has displayed numerous inconsistencies, skirted around facts that counter his claims about the park, and then either tried to schmooze with those who disagree with him or engage in his own personal attacks. Completely unprofessional and sleazy if you ask me. And his words are now public record.<br /><br />On Monday evening there will be a City Council meeting and on the agenda is concern over the press coverage of Grand Texas. It will be interesting to see how the Council reacts to being blindsided by someone who thinks going to the press will generate enough public support so he can slide through the permit process. I'll be there as will several others who have strong ties to Tomball and are dead set against this project. I think this developer is in for a rude shock.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-21534366796789069062009-07-06T21:25:00.000-07:002009-08-11T21:14:18.842-07:00Miscellaneous RamblingsSo much for my plan to update this blog every other day at the most. I get a lot of ideas, but unfortunately they keep coming during the middle of the night or while out to dinner, and since I'm not inclined to carry my laptop with me everywhere, by the time I am near a computer again the idea is often gone. I supposed I could keep a pen with me and just write the flashes of inspiration on a hand or arm, and then explain to anyone who asks that I'm starting a new tattoo craze.<br /><br />A couple of things have happened lately, one of them sad. As the adopted parent of eight cats I had to get used to household of constant activity. Friday before last, my wife left for work, and as always, BJ, a stray who came inside her apartment some years ago, looked around and said, "This'll do" was perched on the kitchen counter. He's not supposed to be there, but he's so affectionate we let it go. Of course when not on the counter he would be stretched out on the floor, invariably right where you wanted to step. Hence his nickname, "Speedbump."<br /><br />At noon I went into the master bedroom, and heard him yowling from under the bed. He's usually very quiet, so I took a look, and he was lying on his side, panting heavily, drooling, and in obvious discomfort. I pulled him out, and looked him over. He tried to get up, but he couldn't move his back legs. So I called the vet and rushed him over. He had a thrombotic embolism, a blood clot in the femoral artery. The vet was excellent, and explained that while they could make him more comfortable, even if the clot could be removed, his chances for recovery were not good, especially reversal of the paralysis. I called my wife, and we agreed that it would be best to put him to sleep.<br /><br />A vet assistant brought him out so I could say goodbye. He was still panting, but was clearly more comfortable. I rubbed his head and talked to him, then he turned and gazed at me, and his eyes had the message I've seen before with cats, "Thank you for caring for me and giving me a loving, comfortable home, but it's time. I'm ready." I said goodbye, then called for the assistant. I didn't want to be present for the injection, as there was no need. When he gave me that last look, I felt his spirit leave.<br /><br />It never gets harder to say goodbye to a pet, but there is the comfort BJ is at peace, and now frolicking while young and healthy again. He was quite a charmer, and I have no doubt he's already made his acquaintance with Squeak.<br /><br />A more positive event was the week before when I went to downtown Houston for a doctor's appointment. Afterward, to kill a few hours before meeting up with my wife to head home, and to escape the ridiculous summer heat, I went to the Houston Museum of Natural Science. While there, I paid extra to see the Genghis Khan exhibit. <br /><br />It was quite interesting, and taught me that old Genghis was more than the brutal conqueror most people thought. He was a brilliant military tactician, and politically he knew how to absorb the people he conquered into the Mongolian system. That gained him new allies and allowed him and his sons to expand his empire until it controlled more land mass than any empire in history. He also had some 50 wives and 500 concubines. It's estimated that he has about 16 million descendants alive today.<br /><br />There were some film clips on how he's been portrayed in film, including being played by John Wayne in what is easily the worst casting in history.<br /><br />There was one fact that wasn't mentioned. In Guam there was, and may still be, the Genghis Khan Furniture Store. Personally I think that is a pretty sad comedown from ruling most of the known world to selling furniture in Guam. He was probably too worn out creating his 16 million descendants to realize what a humble future was in store.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6601390835692082511.post-41498258993654859002009-06-30T18:20:00.000-07:002009-06-30T19:02:16.822-07:00Third Circle of HadesSaying Houston is hot in summer is like saying the Pope is Catholic, it's an observation so obvious that anyone you say it to has the right to shake their heads then ridicule you to no end. However, these past couple of weeks have been hotter than usual, and unfortunately bone dry. Grass is drying up all over the area, in some places there are water restrictions, (though unlike where I was in California construction of water storage reservoirs has actually made some attempt to keep up with the growing population). Fortunately my house has excellent insulation and air conditioning, so I've been able to stay comfortable. I do venture out from time to time, though doing something like running marathons during the middle of the day is not enticing.<br /><br />Texans in general are a tough lot, so the main complainers about the heat are wussies from places like California. So I hold my tongue and only whine to the cats, who couldn't care less in the first place.<br /><br />So what's causing the excessive heat? Well.... how about a high pressure system that's enjoyed Texas so much it hasn't realized it's worn out its welcome and moved on? Even when it does, it will still usually be well in the 90's almost every day for the rest of summer, so I'm trying to acclimate myself a bit more each day. Although air conditioning is no longer a luxury in life, it's a necessity.<br /><br />As for global warming... oops, almost forgot, "climate change" having any bearing, it's nonsense. Heat waves have happened before and will happen again, just as the earth will cool off and will warm up again, and almost all due to (drum roll please), the unregulated activity of that dastardly defier of envirowackos and all others who want the government to control everything, the sun! And as a point of interest, it just ended a record 290 straight days without a single sunspot, which are an excellent indicator of solar activity. Sunspots mean the sun is getting frisky, so no sunspots mean in relative terms the sun has been taking a snooze. So less solar energy is reaching the earth. <br /><br />However, climates are extremely complex and the reduced amount of solar energy reaching the earth does not mean polar bears will soon be invading Houston. But this hysteria over "fighting climate change" is not only ridiculous, it is going to be very expensive for all of us if the envirosheeple get their way. I'm all for energy independence for the U.S., but calm, rationale discussion and decisions will have to be made, something this country has sadly lost the will to do.<br /><br />In the meantime I'll be trying to keep my cool. Literally.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01376092808824631430noreply@blogger.com0