Saturday, June 30, 2007


What was said:

Friday night, as we pulled up at the house. THEBOY opened the van window and yelled to a neighborhood cat that was on our porch, “I’m sorry, but Oreo is dead!”


Suddenly, we sparred.

Yeah, I’m the guy acting like a lost puppy at Krav every Tuesday night, asking people to stay for “sparring” class. For several weeks in a row everyone has bailed.

But I’ve been attending the advanced Krav class on Saturday mornings, and lo and behold, they told us to put on our gear and go at it today.

The only other guy in the class (there were two women) was a talented martial artist for whom I have a lot of respect. A good guy, but rather crazy.

So this was my sparring partner.

I have got to learn to use my reach advantage. He was just a perpetual onslaught of advancing punches and kicks. I simply couldn’t defend myself well enough and still land shots.

Oh, you know, I landed a few shots. And I’m happy to say that I got him in a Thai clinch that he couldn’t do anything about for a while.

I’ve got to spar more though, man. Got to put together these tools and gain some confidence.


What was said:

Tonight at dinner, when the waitress came over and apologized for the delay in getting the check. We weren’t concerned.

MOBB said, “That’s okay. We’re just sitting here gestating.”

I asked, “Uh… what did you say?”


Had to hit some salvage yards today, looking for a headlamp assembly for MOBB’s car.

I dislike salvage yards, and I hate doing mechanical stuff. And I’ve got just enough experience with headlamps to dislike those too.

And in fact, this little trip nearly didn’t happen, as the moment THEBOY and I opened the door to leave the skies opened up, again, and we had to stay home for a while.

But we eventually hit that stretch of Ft. Worth with all the salvage yards. I eyeballed them all once, hoping that going in junkyard with a nicer office building in front might, MIGHT mean I’d get treated like a human.

No dice at the Pick ‘n’ Pull. It was clean by junkyard standards, with uniformed staffers inside. But in my 60 seconds there I was glared at and mumbled to, and given only courtesy of being told they didn’t have the part.



The second place was a dump. Okay, that reads like a bad joke I guess. But it was dank, dirty, and run by a guy who said, “First of all, little ones ain’t allowed out back.”

Crap. Should have thought of that.

“He can stay here with me if you want,” he said in a voice right out of Sling Blade.

Let me just say that occasionally a parent’s intuition will whisper something important, and it’s best to pay attention.

No worries this time, as the parental intuition was louder than a Napalm Death concert.

I took THEBOY aside and explained to him that he’d have to wait in the car. He was resistant, and not pleased.

I said, “Look THIS is a place where there can be bad guys. I’m sorry, but I canNOT leave you in that dirty office with a man I don’t know and all these strangers.”

The tone in my voice reached him.

I put him in the car, grabbed my wrench and headed out back.


The proprietor had said the LeSabres were behind the pinkish building. That was no damn help, as pretty much the whole salvage yard was behind the pinkish building.

And considering the recent flash floods, well, most of the place was under water.

There’s nothing like walking around in ankle deep water in a junkyard to set a low point in one’s day.

They didn’t have the part.


The third place was just as gross, but run by personable folks who were quick to help. They didn’t have the part but could get me one at a not-too-awful price by Tuesday. I opted for the quick end to a dreary search.


THEBOY and I celebrated our not-as-awful-as-it-could-have-been trip with a stop at my favorite coffee shop.

And… the guy was there.

Yeah, a registered sex offender works at one of our local ‘bucks. Sigh. I know a little about what he did, and it involved kids, but I won’t get into the specifics here because I don’t want this site popping up in Google searches for, well, certain phrases.

I’ve seen him working a couple of low-paying jobs here locally, most notably at the ‘bucks. He’s older, probably older than I, and I certainly wondered why a man of his age was working those sorta gigs.

I have also seen him out walking around in our neighborhood lately. I know where his house is, and he seemed to be walking home from work.

But I had to do the parent thing and tell my son to take a good look at the man and remember his face. I instructed him to be careful around him, and if he should ever find himself alone with him or being approached by him in any way, to scream, to run, to get help, all that.

I suppose I should start patronizing a different location.


Sorry to go all serious on you there.


What was said:

Tonight at dinner, after I asked MOBB if she’d just told our waitress she was gestating.

She laughed. “I’m sorry. The kids interrupted me when I was thinkulating.”

I asked, “Uh… did you just say ‘thinkulating’?”


Ya’ll have a good weekend.

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

More Wolfmother, Darby O'Gill, and Krav Maga.

Yes indeed, it was a good weekend. Sort of.

The parts where we had company, saw a rock 'n' roll concert, did some catching up... those were good.

The parts where I did homework for seven hours straight on Sunday... not so much.


I was positively giddy to have all that company up this weekend. It was great to see everyone, including new faces Liegh and Joe (Garmon's brother).

And Garmon looks the same as he did 15 years ago! He protests, says his hair is thinning. Eh, he still looks young, is still funny, didn't get fat... I'm glad that he came up.

So yeah, couple decades later, here we all were again, seeing a concert. We'd all seen the Reivers, Dash Rip Rock, and Eric Johnson for sure. Garmon remembered the Eric Johnson show where the drunk got in my face, literally. I was pretty incensed, and came about as close as I've ever come to getting in a bar fight.

And that means I fantasized about punching him in the nose.

Okay, so that's not all that close.

Anyway, the bouncer came to escort the drunk out. The drunk took a swing, the bouncer ducked, subdued the drunk, and the crisis was averted.


So we hit the House of Blues in Dallas for the Wolfmother show. It's a nice venue, really a good, modest size. There was some sort of stink-related problem in the men's room, but otherwise it was nice.

But here in 2007, let me tell you it's hard to stand on a concrete floor and watch a concert. We were there for hours, showing up too early. Hey, the tix said 7:30, okay.


Some band called the Softlightes opened. I'm sure they're very nice boys.


Wolfmother took the stage at about 9:30, and they rocked, they just did. They were enthusiastic, energetic, and are into the music to the point that you have to wonder if they sit around and listen to their own tunes during their free time.

Big sound for a trio, and the mix was pretty good. The singer (whose name I'm drawing a blank on) has one of those crazy high ranges that worked perfectly well onstage. No idea how guys do that.

It was a physically demanding show on all of us. It aggravated my perpetually sore calf.

Next time we sit in the balcony. We've got nothing to prove by standing.


Oh, I agree with Toland; as much as I like their CD, they are better live.


We came home, collapsed, and slept hard. Then we got up, had pastries, and did a whole lot of nothing. I did foist Darby O'Gill and the Little People on them.


After they left it was homework time. I had an 11pm deadline for my online stuff.

I finished at 10pm.

It sucked. And that's all I want to say abou that.


So yeah, we don't have cable anymore. We told them in 2000 to cut it off. We were new parents, money was tight, and we couldn't afford it.

They never cut it off. Well, not until now. Yes, we've had nearly seven years of free cable. For the cost of NOTHING, we've been fairly satisfied.

But they did an audit, again, and apparently managed to find what they'd never found in all the other audits.

Being without it's not all that hard. Shoot, we're busy folks anyway. I don't get to see much baseball, and I miss UFC sorta stuff.

I have moments when I think we'll go without it for a long, long time. Other times I wish we had it back.

We'll see what happens.


And Toland has cable now.

Clearly, the apocalypse is nigh.


My Krav school is offering Muay Thai as well now, and I'm all sorts of excited about that.


Good night. Keep rockin'.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Friday, June 22, 2007

Gettin' Piggly Wit It

Happy Freakin' Friday everybody!

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

RIP Oreo, 1989-2007

It saddens me to report that we had to have our cat put down today, about six weeks shy of his 18th birthday.

He was frail, and during the last week his health declined to the point that it was clearly necessary.

Monday, June 18, 2007

Post-Father's Day Wrapup

Quick notes. I hoped. I should be in bed long about now.

In fact, in about 8 hours I'll be awake, hopping around in the living room like an idiot. No, I don't plan on stubbing my toe on the way to the toilet (though I won't rule it out).

I'll be working out. Yep.

I let it slip away, just a little. I put on about 10 pounds, and it all went to my gut. I've got to re-focus on working out. I did it before, and I can do it again. Whit's piqued my interest in gymless workouts, and I've messed around with them here and there. I'm glad to re-start this process at 10 pounds overweight instead of 25 like before.

I started this morning. The goal: 50 burpees, 8 sets of squats (duration: 20 seconds each, with 10 second breaks), 8 sets of pushups (ditto on the durations).

After the 50 burpees I was on my hands an knees, dripping sweat, gasping, face-first in the fan.

I knew I couldn't do it all.

So I went straight to the pushups. I got into the 7th set and could do no more. I went to kitchen, chugged a drink and then lay there on the floor for 20 minutes.

Tomorrow morning I'll get up and do it again.


Father's Day was good! We slept late--wow. It was after 10am when I looked at the clock. A miracle! Between the general laziness, the getting kids dressed, and the wait at the Cracker Barrel, we didn't get breakfast until after 1pm. Yep.

I scored the Allman Brothers' box set, Dreams. I know more of the songs than I realized. I still don't need a 22 minute version of "Whipping Post" (I'm not kidding--it's on there), but I've grown fond of their studio stuff over the years.


So, I have a love triangle with Liza Minelli and my wife and no one comments? No jokes, nothing? What, did you think I said, Gino Vanelli?


Okay, Gino Vanelli might have gotten some comments...


The mighty High Bias has closed up shop. Michael Toland's been a champion of good music for years and years and years. He was out there, proclaiming the good news to everyone who cared to read as far back as, what, the Music Notes days? Late 80s?

I've dabbled in it for years, but nothing, nothing like him. Shoot, when I wrote for Pop Culture Press I told the woman running it, "Really... you need this guy."

I'll miss the site. I'm torn. As a reader, I'm disappointed. As a friend, I'm glad to see a burden lifted from his shoulders.


This morning, at almost exactly the same spot from which I watched that wannabe burglar Friday, I saw a small hawk swoop down and attack mockingbird. There was a quick collision, and feathers were everywhere. The mockingbird didn't fare well. The other mockingbirds were swooping down at him. The hawk didn't give a damn.


Night night.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

A Different Kind of Survey/The Boy Toy

I believe these questions come from a book entitled The Counselor Intern. These were read to us in class recently, and they struck me as making for an interesting survey.

When I did realize I was an adult? When I was about 25. I’d been married for a year, and slowly began to feel more comfortable in my own skin.

What are my five best qualities? Empathy, fairness, patience (well, I’m told I’m patient, though I don’t feel that way with my kids sometimes), honesty, and…irresistibility to the opposite sex. Okay, just seeing if you’re paying attention.

What are five areas of my life I need to improve? I work, I work out, I take classes, I read, I write… yet still I feel I need a motivational boost sometimes.

(Motivation… that’s one).

And the aforementioned patience needs improvement. I’m patient with my clients, but I need more patience with my kids.

Nerves. You know… I’ve come a long way. I give public presentations regularly, mostly in my second language. I recently spoke to over 2000 people over the course of four speeches in a church… but I wish I could lose that one last little pinch of nerves I always get. I still have moments where I think, Screw this! I want to bail out!

What’s my basic philosophy of life? Everything will be fine as long as I have my coffee and my scone.

Is my glass of water half full or half empty? Why? If the person who wrote this were standing here I’d pour the water on his or her head.

What pervasive mood do I find myself in most of the time? Pretty happy-go-lucky.

What do I think about people in general? I’m inclined to think that, generally, people are good and mean well. I get disappointed sometimes.

Who are my heroes? My Dad, my sister, and a few musicians and writers.

Who is the most creative person I know? Why? Oh wow. You know… MOBB used to work with this amazingly creative person named Barbara. She and her husband had done their own sub-contracting on the construction of their house. They’d managed to procure all these great materials, including the hardwood planks from an old skating rink to use as their flooring. The house was unique, practical, and just beautiful, full of character. Barbara speaks two or three languages, is also an artist of admirable talent, and knows a lot about polka music. She’s spontaneous as heck, and once when we were visiting her she suddenly told MOBB and me that we should just spend the night. She’d invited us for a grownup sleepover! Fuddy-duddies that we are, we stuttered and stumbled, said something about needing to get home to our cats (this was before kids), and said, “let’s plan for another time.” The spontaneity was gone, and it never happened. I always regretted not allowing myself to do that for some reason.

What are my personal goals and objectives? To bring back break dancing.

How do I cope with life challenges and personal stress? I work out, write, and these days I’m playing loud guitar again.

Am I past, present, or future-oriented? Mostly present, with a tinge of future.

What would my best friend say about me? “I’m still waiting to get my Tupperware back, dude.”

What would my worst enemy say about me? “Thanks for the Tupperware.”

What is the biggest criticism people have of me? That I’m too timid.

Am I open to my own potential needs for counseling? Sure. Been there.

Do I take time to play? How do I play? Literally, with music. Though you know, humor’s a big part of my life. I’m not trying to impress anyone, not trying to prove anything. It’s just how I’m wired. I come from a long line of pretty funny folks, actually.

What are my reasons for becoming a counselor? I aim to help addicts. They need the help, and I find the topic fascinating.

What makes me think I will be an effective counselor? In some ways, counseling is as integral to me as my voice.

How do I handle my own stress and burnout? I gather that among addiction counselors there’s a career arc that’s very much a product of burnout. I do anticipate that I’ll do it for a number of years and then go teach in a junior college somewhere.

How do I handle praise and criticism? I am still learning to take praise without self-deprecating comments.


I dreamed that Liza Minelli decided I was going to be her new man.

I’m not kidding. In fact, the theme was consistent over the course of more than one dream, as I sometimes woke up or, you know, had to hit the bathroom.

Yeah, for whatever reason she wanted me to be her “kept man.” She took me to this incredible penthouse in Manhattan, and showed me all the stuff there, how it would all be effectively mine if I’d just agree to be her latest thing. There were swimming pools, art pieces, electronic hoo-has, verandas, skyline views, and parties where that cheese you squirt out of a can was served.

I kept waiting for… you know. THAT. I kept waiting to have to, ahem, cash that check. In the dream I kept asking myself how I’d react when the inevitable sight of her naked body was presented to me. And, uh… what would she expect?

And you know, I worried for nothing. She never brought it up.


Ya’ll have a good weekend.

Friday, June 15, 2007

Casing the Joint

So I drop THEBOY off this morning. His "summer camp" is in a public school in a bad neighborhood.

As I'm leaving this guy in grey sweats across the street catches my attention. His nonverbal communication is the first thing: He's looking around, seeing who's watching him. He doesn't notice me, oddly.

He goes up to this gate on the side of the house and tugs on the latch. It doesn't budge. He looks through the fence and then walks up the street a bit. I follow him in the van. I park across the street at some crappy apartments and watch as he goes between two houses and disappears.

Now, there's an alley back there, and in fact, there's plenty of activity in general, as someone appears to be moving in or out of one of the houses. Maybe he's with them, I think.

He re-emerges and walks back, this time going between two different houses and disappearing again. I move to a different parking lot.

Finally he appears again, and goes back to the house where he tugged on the latch. Before I can catch up to him he's gone, just totally out of sight.

I call 911.

That guy was up to something, man. So my day hit its excitement peak before 8:30am.


Happy Friday.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

Counting Down...

Busy busy busy. Just busy. School’s dictating everything at this point. Last weekend I got no work done for my online class, as I had login problems. I lost a lot of time waiting to get that straightened out, but I’m almost caught up again.


I got the Les Paul back. As I expected, the neck pickup tone control was dead. Now that it’s up and running, man that guitar’s a ripper! It’s got a sweet new setup. Bends are smooth and easy, action is low, intonation is good… The instrument is very easy to play. For the first time in 25 years I can actually play the opening to “Spirit of Radio” by Rush. Come to my house and I’ll show you. Over and over.


Big changes are possibly in the works, almost all of which fall into the “can’t talk about it yet” category. But good news may be coming.


I think “Say Hello to Heaven” by Temple of the Dog would be great as rearranged into an R&B rave-up.


Next week is the Wolfmother gathering at Casa de Briscoe.

That is, it’s when Toland, Bruiser and Garmon are coming up to see a concert. Toland’s galfriend too.

And I’ll try not to go all “Big Chill” on you here, okay, but you know, those were guys I ran with a lot back in the day. I saw concerts with all of them, and now, decades later, we’re doing it again. We’ve changed a lot. Bruiser has kids, Garmon has kids, I have kids, Toland… well, Toland’s going to remain a playboy I guess.

I crack me up.

And to varying degrees I guess they’ll all have the image of me from back then in their heads, just like I do with them. Garmon’s probably in for the biggest surprise since he probably doesn’t know I had the sex change and now answer only to Paloma.

Okay okay… but I’m sure he’ll at least think, holy CRAP did Briscoe get grey! Fine, fine.

Oh, Bruiser and Toland won’t be surprised since we’ve stayed in pretty regular contact. Bruiser and Toland and I have all continued to rock. I love how cheesy that sentence sounds. But the fact is, we all still go to shows. I’m going to assume Garmon does too.

I’m actually probably in better shape now than I was then, to be honest. I remember jogging with Garmon one night, during one of my many half-assed attempts at staying fit. He was in the army, exercising regularly, and lecturing me about jogging, about the army, about how bad my form was…

And I responded with witty comebacks like, “wheeze,” “gasp,” and thoughts like how can he talk while running?

I’m just sayin’.


I’d like your honest opinion on this.

Granted, the wording for the ad could be better, I think. I simply wish to know your opinion of commemorating the Katrina anniversary in this manner.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

The Weekend, the Guitars, the Perv, and the Look

It's been a pretty good weekend here I'd say. I was in a class for several hours yesterday, so MOBB took the kids to Corsicana to see the inlaws.

I did get out earlier than planned though, so I hit Miss Saigon Cafe in Hurst for a good bowl of pho before heading home for a nap.

And it was one of those screwy naps when you crash for longer than you expect (3 hours) and wake up with a jumbled sense of time.

It's good to be the BB.


The Les Paul is in the shop. Ah, don't panic. It's a little thing. I think the tone control for the neck pickup has died. It won't be an expensive fix, and I wanted to get a setup done anyway.

(A setup, in case you don't know, is when the intonation, neck adjustment, and string height, aka action, are, uh, set up.)

The guitar was one of the last three in the whole shop when I bought it after all, and I'm sure other prospective customers heard the muffled sound out of the bridge pickup. Really, it's probably a cheap fix.

The other guitar, the Guild, is doing just fine, as evidenced by my very sore fingertips. I've even started learning a new song: "Revelation" by Jason Falkner. Of course.

I got some tablature for Falkner's "Good Night Sweet Night," but it's all jacked up. It ain't right.


I had a weird encounter at Target tonight. I wanted to get a drink from their little Starbucks before my shopping.

I walked up and this big, tall fat guy was leaning way over the counter, sort of reaching towards the two baristas, a blonde and a black girl. They looked terrified, and for a sec I wondered if he was robbing them. He dropped something on the floor at their feet and turned around with a grin. They were still frozen there with their butts against the back counter.

"Is everthing okay?" I asked as the big weirdo turned and left.

The blonde said yeah, but that "he keeps bugging me." The black girl asked if he's a boyfriend, classmate, or someone she knows well. No no and no.

"I only know him a little."

So they picked up the thing he dropped, and it was one of those plastic hotel room keys. Yep.

I asked, "If he gives you a real problem here you WILL call security, right?"

Sure sure.

It pissed me off to see the big perv scare those two gals like that.


I teach a couple kids up at the KM school, just basic MMA stuff. One is my son, and one is a friend of his. Teaching useful tools to six-year-olds is like wrangling greased cats, okay, but perhaps they get something out of it occasionally.

And we always have a lesson for our brains, as well as our bodies. For the first couple of weeks it was "only use what I'm showing you to defend yourself, defend your family, or defend someone who cannot himself or herself."


THEBOY is funny in the little MMA class too. I build in plenty of play, and chances for them to blow off some steam.

And though it's a challenge sometimes to get them to focus, THEBOY can, he really can. He gets this look in his eye, tucks his chin, and makes it clear that he's going to show me that he CAN do this.


I'm rambling. Ya'll have a good week.

Friday, June 08, 2007

The Guild

Happy Friday! It’s overcast again, threatening to rain. But I don’t care. I’ve had my coffee and my… empanada. Damn, my local Starbucks simply isn’t carrying cinnamon scones anymore. Have they lost their minds??

Anyway, the above isn’t the iced coffee I had this morning. It’s one a coworker found in our fridge a few days ago. She shared some with me, and it’s quite tasty. From Taiwan. "Easy to drink!" Love that.


It’s been a difficult week in some ways. Some parts of this job are pretty heartbreaking, gotta say. I can’t get into it here.

But I did buy a new guitar yesterday, a Guild GAD-25.

I was out in Weatherford and passed by Craig’s Music. They had an advertisement for Taylor guitars in the window, so I went in.

Now, long ago I decided I’d probably like a Martin or Taylor best. In my recent searches, though, I wasn’t altogether pleased with what I found. I don’t know if this was just because my price range limited me, or maybe if they’re just plain overrated. I’d played a bunch though, and hadn’t managed to fall in love with one.

At Craig’s I was alone in their acoustic room for maybe a half hour, which was a great opportunity to get to know their good selection of instruments. And I did finally play some Taylors and Martins I liked. They were really pushing my price range though.

I kept going back to this one guitar though, a Guild GAD-25 I liked the looks, and the sound was terrific, really a good example of what I was after. Nice ringing harmonics, evenly distributed tones, and very playable. The action is pretty good.

The salesman ambled in, minding his own business while I literally stood there with my hands on my hips, wondering what to do. We started talking, and he singled out that very Guild, in fact. He told me how fond he is of mahogany instruments, and that he owns several. They lend to that smooth tonal balance, as opposed to spruce-top guitars that are more piercing and boomier, meant to compete with other instruments. That’s fine, but not what I need, as I’m primarily a woodshedder (ie, someone who plays alone).

Now, the Taylor was seriously nice, but at twice the price, I couldn’t hear a difference. I also played another Epiphone Masterbuilt, and it was clearly the best instrument I’ve played in this whole search. It was too much money though.

So I bought the GAD-25, and I’m very pleased. Came with a bitchin’ case too. Here are some user reviews, and I’ve got to say that I agree with them by and large.


BB’s current therapy: “Wasted Days and Wasted Nights,” as sung by Freddy Fender on the Texas Tornados’ Live From Austin, TX


Congratulations to Nadine, who just landed a bitchin’ internship in Indonesia!


Happy Friday.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Full Circle

I was going to write up a post about this, but after I wrote the following email to my father I realized it would do just fine.


Debated just calling you, but since I wanted to include an image anyway, email seemed like a good choice.

Bear with me.

I wanted a good acoustic guitar for years. The Ovation I used to have was okay, not bad, not great. I always thought that if I ever had a financial windfall I'd get a good one.

Turns out I had a financial windfall recently.

I hit one guitar shop on Sunday, seeking a Taylor or maybe a Martin. Those are great, heirloom-quality instruments. Still, I shop with my ears before my eyes, and none of the ones in my range had that shimmering tone I'm seeking. I know it's out there.

But there's a Taylor dealer near my house, so I decided to stop by on the way home yesterday. I got myself excited, was about convinced that this was Fate, that they'd have MY guitar in there, the one with the great resonance and tone.

I went in and the shop was almost empty. The clerk told me they're closing down the retail side, and will henceforth be just a repairs/lessons business.


Dad, remember back in '83 or so when we took a vacation to central Texas somewhere? I'm thinking we went to Austin and San Marcos with Charlene and her kids. And there in San Marcos we saw a beautiful Gibson Les Paul in a store window. Wasn't it a burgundy color? I think they wanted less than $600 for it, an amazing deal even then. I wanted it, and you wanted me to have it. I could see the wheels turning in your head. Thing is, neither of us happened to have an extra $600 at that moment, and we had to go home without it. I was sad but I understood.

So there I was in the guitar shop last night, and the only acoustics they had left were junk. Hanging on the opposite wall, though, were threee Epiphone Les Pauls. Epiphone is Gibson's affordable line of instruments. These ELPs have a great repuatation, and you can see them onstage in clubs all the time. If you go to a user review website like Harmony Central, you'll see that they regularly get great marks.

I suddenly realized that, though I was saddened to see my local guitar shop going belly-up, there were clearance signs all around me.

The burgundy Les Paul was half-off.

Using the last cord in the shop and a funky amp, I noodled for a few minutes. The action (string height) is low (which is a good thing), and the fretwork is really nice. This is a very comfortable instrument to play, really fast (even for me), and it doesn't fret out or buzz no matter where I bend.

So I bought it. Attached is a photo.

It's funny how things work out, how nearly 25 years later I've got that guitar from the store window--or damn close to it--and you bought it for me after all. Perhaps it was Fate after all.

The kicker is that it was so cheap I can still afford to get an acoustic as well. I'm still shopping!

Thank you again.

Monday, June 04, 2007

What I Know

Here's what I know about Heaven:

They play non-stop boogie piano music.

There are no baseball umpires, except for Durwood Merrill.

I'll be able to sing.

I'll eat avacados every day.

RL Burnside is sitting down.


This weekend THEBOY asked where babies come from.

No, that's not exactly right. He just asked that since babies grow inside the mothers, what exactly is the father's part in this?

I wasn't around for it. I gather MOBB managed to stall him or distract him ("Look! A blimp!") or something.

I'm still wrestling with how to tell him this.


While cuddling with THEGIRL this weekend, she put her bare foot in my face and said, "Daddy, look at my toes!" Then she made that great toddler noise: "Blibble blibble blibble blibble..."

Busts me up just thinking about it.


I am in the very fortunate position of being able to afford a new guitar (thanks again, Dad...).

I've never had a really good one. I currently play some no-name Korean acoustic that I'll never get rid of due to its sheer sentimental value; I was playing it at a Larry's Music booth at the county fair when MOBB stopped by to chat once. This was before we even dated, and we just both remembered that I was playing THAT guitar while we chatted.

And I had an okay little Ovation Balladeer for a while, though I've become too much of a tone snob to go that route again. Not into plastic guitars.

In fact, Martin makes one (called an Eclipse or Ellipse or Emo or Emu or Elmo or something) that looks great, but I didn't care for the tone. Bright and loud, but the bottom end is rather lacking.


So the family and I went to a guitar shop yesterday. They had to kill time while I noodled on various instruments. Thus far I'm thinking Taylor's the way for me, but I'm shopping with my ears first, if you know what I mean.

I seriously considered a Martin D-15 but just wasn't THAT taken with the tone.

And while I shopped, MOBB deposited THEBOY in the percussion room. They lent him some sticks (the fools!) and he just went nuts, pounding on everything that couldn't get away. I'd go in and he'd be at a different drum kit every time: BOOM POW CRASH CRASH BAPPITY BAM BAM POW CRASH BAM!!

He had a blast!


I'll hit the shop down the street from the house in a little bit. I went to a store here in Ft. Worth over lunch, and that was a total waste of time.


We had a good time at the Ft. Worth Cats game Saturday night. They were playing the Shreveport Sports.

The DH was none other than Longhorn alumnus Kip Harkrider, who won a bronze medal as part of the USA's Olympic baseball team in '96. He played on some of the Horn teams I used to go see in the mid-90s when I had season tix.


I'm sorry these updates are getting more sporadic. It's looking like a busy semester. Hell, I haven't even worked out in a week.