No need to jazz it up.

I know that it's cute to have Corduroy Day on the day with all the vertical lines in the date.

But maybe it's better to use today to remember warriors and wars past. That's what we set this day aside for.

If you (like me) never took on the duty, there's certainly nothing to keep you from appreciating the securities provided by those who have done so. If you are a pacifist, then now is the time to reflect on the horror of war, and be glad that it isn't coming to your home. There's a reason for that, you know.

I look forward to the day that we celebrate armistice, yet again.

Until our men and women come home --and even then-- remember.

On a Day Like This

I was born in October, and have always felt that the weather of a north Texas October is a gift to me, personally. Back in 1990, while in Austin at U.T., I noticed that the October weather was similarly particularly fine. And I jotted down a little something:

On a day like this,
I can run faster.
I can jump higher.
I can see farther.

On a day like this,
I can think faster.
I can smile easier.
I can forgive quicker.

On a day like this,
Coffee tastes better.
Grass smells sweeter.
Work's more rewarding.

On a day like this,
I can love my life,
And those who love it with me.*

_________________________
*I met my future wife in October of 1991.

Let's hold off on the over-reaction, shall we?

I'm not sure what the best response should be, generally, to deal with the school shootings. But before people begin to demand bannings, I would note:

1. There are MILLIONS of firearms in this country. What kind of wand makes them disappear?
2. It's already a felony to carry a handgun on campus at Northern Illinois University. That didn't seem to discourage Stephen Kazmierczak from bringing three, plus a shotgun, yesterday. People that murder other people before committing suicide apparently don't worry about that putting a felony on their Permanent Record.
3. Creating effective gun-free zones on campuses is impossible. I have NEVER been challenged to produce identification as a peace officer on campus, and I always carry on campus. Putting metal detectors at the front doors to the lecture halls is untenable. I'm late for class as it is. Think of going into the secure zone of a major airport every time you entered a class. Good. Lord. (Not to mention the cost of manning the hundreds of new posts on campus.)
4. Making this tragedy political would be the lowest of the low.

That is all.

"And have fun!"

Per Terrierman by way of LabRat, I have just read one of the coolest disclaimers of all time.

You want family-oriented?

I gotcha family-oriented, right here.

This morning, my wife and my girls and I got up kind of early for a Saturday.
We drove up I-35 to Gainesville, TX, and headed east on Hwy 82 for 26 miles, before heading north on Hwy 91 for six miles to Crawford Rd, and took a left. A coupla hundred yards later, we were at the Bailey Berry Patch.

These people are frickin' brilliant. They found a nice sandy piece of acreage that has decent drainage, and put in wide-spread rows of blueberries and three acres of blackberries. In Texas, while blackberries thrive, blueberries are kind of rare. These people use drip irrigation, and pump from the large stocktank that they have at the bottom of the hill. They plant six acres with several different varieties of blueberries, and they come in at slightly different rates. Because the season is June through mid-July, the day gets kind of hot by mid-afternoon, so they deal with that, too-- they shut down at 2:00PM. They're closed on Monday and Friday.

Here's the brilliant part-- they don't pick 'em. You do. You have to get up early, and drive out to the countryside, and then you do the picking, bring up your bucket... and pay them for the privilege.

Do people really do this?

Only several hundred a day.

$11.00 a gallon gets you a bucket that's wayyyy more then a gallon. They give the kids little painted pails to help out, too. With low-mown grass and wide-spread rows of chest-high berry bushes, you just let the kids run wild. When they get bored, let 'em ride down with one of the nice ladies in a golf cart to the stock tank, where they can feed the enormous catfish down there.

When you bring the pails of berries up, they take 'em from you and clean the berries, running them over a small conveyor belt with a blower and the owners' grandchildren posted to pick put the unripe or bad berries or detritis that got into your bucket. Then they bag and label your harvest for your drive home. They'll also sell you a glass of blueberry lemonade for a buck, though they've got big coolers of water spread around, and even have (clean!) restrooms.

They've got a little vegeteble stand, and have homemade preserves for sale, too.

This place is kind of idyllic.

The people are nice.

The place is nice.

The produce is nice.

The experience of letting your kids run around picking berries and coming back with purple faces and full buckets is nice.

Having blueberries all year long (we just freeze them whole in ziplock bags) that we picked is nice.

We spent $22.00, plus another $5 for a couple of hamburgers and some lemonade to support the Sadler VFD today.

We had a great time.

Just thought I'd let y'all know, next time you're in the area.

Altered states of consciousness

Not to promote the drugged lifestyle, but sleep deprivation and a Grolsch beer before putting on headphones and playing a song with serious stereophonic separation, while focusing very closely into the iTunes Visualizer can really, really cause you to momentarily lose your local grasp of stuff. Since entertainment is supposed to do exactly that, and the effect is over when the song ends, it's harmless.

I have no idea if this is common for everyone, or if it's like those damnable stereographic puzzles that only some people can see. Based upon what I saw when I worked off-duty security at a rave once, I suspect that it's a pretty common phenomenon, but lots of kids seem to think that they need a heavy dose of Ecstasy to make it work.

The aforementioned "Starship Trooper", at the instrumental about 3/4 of the way through, does it nicely. I suspect that The Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again" would do it. Countless others. Maybe Penguin Cafe Orchestra pieces.

Music has often been claimed to transcend the listener. I'm pretty visual. If I can get the visuals to match the aural, and both are particularly good, something occasionally happens for a few seconds. It's a nice diversion. I can't make this music, and I can't make the video to accompany it. I've seen dancers that could do the latter, and have known musicians that could probably do the former.

Heh. But then again, I was impressed as a kid when they arranged the lights at the skating rink to be in sync with the music. . .

Where there is yet wild to be found.

Yes, Tamara repeated/reported it first, from Hobie's site, but this bears a reiteration: Go look at the video caught of a brown bear killing a moose on someone's driveway. Be sure to click on all three videos on that page to see it all.

The best part is the calm narration of what sounds like a man and wife on the second and third one. Imagine how many people in your neck of the woods would be pitching a fit. Yes, even your neck o' the woods.

Alaska is truly our last frontier. Even Montana, north Idaho, and Wyoming are, from what I'm hearing, losing some of their wildness. People move to Alaska to go to that last land of the wild, and, as such, they learn to accept it; indeed, they expect it. New tracking studies show brown bears (if they lived on a big island to the west, they'd be called "Kodiak" bears) are actually regularly moving through downtown Juneau, generally without incident. Click on the graphic to the left of that article, and then click on the different bear collar numbers. Look at bears 200, and 208! Wow.

Even down here in Texas, where we're supposedly so very rugged (yawn), our locals are having fits because [gasp!] an alligator was sighted in Lake Lewisville. Um, people? They're native to the state, though mostly by the coast. Build a giant lake where there wasn't one, and you'll get alligators where they weren't. Next you'll start freaking out to find that we've got copperheads, water moccasins, rattlesnakes of several varieties, and even the odd coral snake.

Most folk in a lot of the Lower 48 would be surprised to learn how frequently cougar wander through their areas, as well. I think I'd just as soon they not know.

I'm a hunter, and I have no qualms with taking game and even hunting predators, on occasion. I've no real interest in hunting bears and cougar, so long as they're behaving themselves. I'd be sad if we lost any more wildness. Sprawl is encroaching upon our wild areas. I hope we can keep as much of Alaska as wild as we can for a good long time.

I need to get there.

Things that have made my heart skip a beat:

I almost called this "the first time," but there's more to it then that. I was feeling pretty good on the way into work last night, and composed this with some joy in my heart, for no particular reason.

Things that have made my heart skip a beat:

As a child, thinking that the next day was my birthday.
As a child, puppies and kittens and baby critters. Being offered to see a monkey.
Waking up on the first day of school.
Riding my bike off the ramp we made over Tonka trucks.
Diving from the high dive. Okay-- jumping.
Christmas morn.
Going to Six Flags as a child.
My first bicycle.
My first 10-speed.
My first ride on a 2-stroke dirt motorcycle.
My first airplane ride.
My first airplane ride in a light plane. (And most since.)
Mountains.
Tremendous heights.
My first kiss from a girl not a relative.
My first romantic kiss from any lady thereafter.
The first time I told a girl I loved her.
The first time a girl said it to me.
The dentist office waiting room-- entering, and returning from within.
Mail for me, as a kid.
Mail for me from a friend, all my life.
Compliments from someone I admire.
Heavy weather.
The smell of good cooking.
The smell of rain on the wind in the summertime.
My first time driving.
My first time driving alone.
Sneaking out, as a kid --even if for innocent reasons.
Near misses.
Being hired.
Being told to come into an office and sit down. (And shut the door.)
Going hunting with Dad as a kid.
Getting to carry a shotgun the first time while hunting, as a kid.
Shooting at game.
Being sworn in.
Finding out we were going to have a baby.
Asking my wife to marry me.
Making my first arrest.
Hearing the dispatcher rattle off the ten-code that the subject I was out with was wanted, had criminal history, and had an assaultive history.
Waking up after having overslept.
Drawing down on a human being.
Having a door that I supposed was locked open suddenly.
Blowouts.
Daughters' screams.
Cries for help.
Falls, expected and otherwise.
Fresh coffee.
Being hit upon by any person.
Being challenged to a fight by any person.
Being accused.
Chewing on foil accidentally.
Gunfire where I thought there would be none.
Unexpected nudity.
Loss of traction.

Add 'em all up with the others I've not listed, and I'm probably owed a day back, somewhere along the line.

You may say I'm a dreamer...

Utterly sincere question, here: If you're driving a $50k+ vehicle, wouldn't you want to use your turn signals?