My brush with celebrity Clint Black

I was living in Houston. It was time for the annual Livestock Show and Rodeo, which is the Houston equivalent of the Academy Awards show in LA. Every night for two weeks, big (country music) stars some to town and entertain people dressed in large hats and cowboy clothes they never wear in real life, who have just watched animals being abused for entertainment. In this year, one of those big country music stars was Clint Black.

My friend Gregg is a grocery store manager and through his job he had received two complimentary tickets to the rodeo for the night of Clint Black's show. But these were no ordinary tickets, because they also would allow us to meet Clint Black before the show! After Gregg was kind enough to offer to share one of these magical tickets with me, I happily imagined the two of us standing around drinking champagne in a plush room before the show with Clint Black and his wife, Lisa Hartman. It was easy to picture the witty bon mots we would exchange with the Black/Hartmans, in between sharing our innermost thoughts and most meaningful experiences of our lives, with them asking us out for a drink after the show to continue our bonding session.

The night of the rodeo arrived and my anticipation had only grown. To my surprise, however, it turned out that there would be no intimate gathering with the star and his wife. Instead, nearly one hundred fans holding tickets just like ours stood in a line that snaked its way through a locker room in the Astrodome, with the single file line squeezing into the narrow space betwen the lockers and the benches before them. Pair by pair, the people in the line had the opportunity for a 5-second encounter with Clint Black, in which he and the ticketholders would put their arms around each other and turn, smiling, to the camera to have a picture taken.

This was not what I had anticipated, but I would make the most of it. I thought of things I could say to Clint that would be different than what anyone else in line might say to him. (This same sort of delusional thinking led to me taunting Salman Rushdie for acting the part of a suffering Yankees fan when he autographed a book for me after a speech in Dallas.) Finally, the time came for us to meet with the great Mr. Black. The words flew from my head and we were only able to muster hellos for him. He was just my height, and I was surprised that he was so cozy with us when we turned to the camera, placing his arm tightly around each of us; we responded in kind. Suddenly, the photographer appeared to have taken our picture and I dropped my arm to move away. In fact, the photographer was not finished and Clint was still standing there, meaning that my arm didn't fall through the air, but rather so close to him that my hand brushed his bottom. Gregg did not know this had occurred and tried to make small talk with Clint before we were hustled away, but Clint appeared somewhat perplexed and we quickly left to take our seats for his show.

Gregg loved the picture of our little group that he received in the mail. In it, Clint has a startled look on his face, as if someone had just grabbed his butt unexpectedly.

What have I done?

From Anna, this fun meme, in which I will place in bold the items that are true for me:

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten my own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby's diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than I could afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as I possibly could
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about my life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for my computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Taken a midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer then I was actually in love with the person
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized my CDs.
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Posed nude in front of strangers
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love with someone and not had my heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than six hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an "expert"
83. Received flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Had a one-night stand
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one of my parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror Picture Show
96. Raised children
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
98. Created and named my own constellation of stars
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when I knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an illness that I shouldn't have survived
105. Written articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Petted a stingray
110. Broken someone's heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone (if a nose counts)
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a body part of mine below the neck pierced
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had my picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone's mind about something I care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Petted a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey
135. Selected one "important" author who I missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all my school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
139. Been elected to public office
140. Written my own computer language
141. Thought to myself that I'm living my dream
142. Had to put someone I love into hospice care
143. Built my own PC from parts
144. Sold my own artwork to someone who didn't know me
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146: Dyed my hair (if highlights count--for the first time this year)
147: Been a DJ
148: Shaved my head
149: Caused a car accident
150: Saved someone's life

Other things I have done:

151: Touched Clint Black's bottom
152: Gone "rolling" (and it does not involve drugs)
153: Seen a kid flip head first off a three wheeler into a barn door
154: Worked as the "bus supervisor" for a group of detasselers
155: Danced with German soldiers in a fountain in Interlaken, Switzerland on my 25th birthday
156: Resumed contact with an old friend through a stranger I met in a Manhattan bar that I went to with a stranger
157: Dated someone who was not then but is now in prison (sadly)
158: Read "Atlas Shrugged" at least five times
159: Seen Julie Andrews playing softball in Central Park
160: Rescued two dogs from the SPCA
161: Given a eulogy at the funerals of my father and my grandmother

An update on "Kurt."

Here's what he wrote today, after I said I would honor the site host's wishes and not engage in a religious debate with him:

[new] If the glove doesn't fit....

For a lawyer you're very poorly prepared as far as arguing your point is concerned.

It really was quite weak how you opted out of a losing argument once you saw that you were in over your head.

You quickly played the deference card toward Al (knowing how easily he's led by the P.C crowd) rather than admit your ignorance. I say this because your final response was "I'm not going to respond to your diatribe, Kurt. Because I wish to honor Al's wishes regarding the content of his site. "

Of course you showed no concern earlier when you posted "You assume I share your faith, Kurt. And you know what happens when one assumes."

Then finally, you play the cop out card of "But I will say I am appalled(?) by your arrogance, and wondering if you are actually GWB posting here."

Of course, since you're the arbiter of who is or is not arrogant one shouldn't even question your profound judgment on such matters. Your opinion, counselor, is not a fit standard of actual proof.

If you could so easily get entangled in a losing position with as simple man like myself, one must only conclude that your advancement to partner will simply be a nod toward your gender and not because of your ability (appalled?).

I thought you would enjoy this . . . and be proud to know I have no intention of responding.

Oh, boy.

I frequent a particular Cubs fan site and recently posted a story there about my intent to conduct an economic boycott of the team until team management: (a) changes; or (b) fields a product that is not insulting to the team's fans. (I will explain this in more detail later). A guy responded to me under the name "Kurt," but I think he may actually be our nation's "President."

Tell me what you think:

• he first accuses me of not actually being disgruntled with the team, but of being a "plant" by the folks at a competing Cubs site, where the writers are generally more cynical and definitely more in favor of a boycott . . . an approach certainly reminiscent of the "if you're not with us, you're against us" and disconnection from reality mentalities of the current administration
• when I respond with my habitual, "Good lord." and explain that the site's owner has actually met me and that I am no stooge, he lectures me on using the Lord's name in vain:
• The Lord is good

  Fair enough, since you've evoked young Yellon's name (yes, he's younger than yours truly.)

  By the way, as a lawyer you certainly understand words, what they mean, and how to use them.

  You might dust off your King James, re-read the 3rd commandment, and ponder intently the word `vain.'

• I exercise restraint unusual for me in hopes of complying with the site-owner's wish that his site be about baseball, not politics or religion, replying only: "You assume I share your faith, Kurt. And you know what happens when one assumes."
  
• 
  
• And that's when I was lectured as follows:
• I don't assume anything

  You can pretend that there's more than one path to God, or more than one God and that you have a `different' faith, but that's not how it works.

  There's only one Lord. No matter how much your version may be a Santa Claus of your own making that bows to what you think He should be, it doesn't change Who and What He really is. The Lord says that "EVERY" man has an innate knowledge of Him, so you can't even feign ignorance on the issue.

  In the wisdom of this world you can play the P.C. game of picking and choosing the (g)od of your liking.

  But when a person dies, all the legalese, P.C., feminist, I'm okay your okay, let's all hug a tree liberalism, won't do a person one whit of good as they bow in terror on bended knee before the Supreme Justice.

  Alas, your fate will already be sealed if you haven't accepted Christ. You'll either be a sheep or a goat and all the worldly, high-sounding opinions that are tossed back and forth with others in the Berkeley-type coffee shops of Texas that you may frequent, on the latest cookie cutter religion that allows you to sin with impunity without Christ as your Savior (as you assume that your `good works' will earn you heaven) will get you nothing but eternal agony in the Lake of Fire.

  You can argue what the meaning of "is" might be in this fallen world, but not when you find yourself in front of the Lord Himself.

  If you're a sheep of His it will be a wonderful time, but if you're a goat, this very small period of time that you spend here will pale in the eternity that awaits you.

  And guess what, the very second you die you'll know what awaits you as your spirit is either instantly in the presence of the Lord, or in hell awaiting final judgment.

  And unlike the fallible judgments of men, lawyers, and judges, the Supreme Judge makes no mistakes. If you're in hell there will be no mistake, pardon, clemency, or purgatory, as you were already offered that in this life by accepting Christ, and you passed it up.

  Of course I hope that's not the case. I hope that you are a Christian and that you are saved, but let's be honest, you are a lawyer so what's the odds of that being the case!
  .
  .
  .
  .
  .
  .
  .
  .
  .
  .
  Relax, that's just my stab at a lawyer joke.

  
  What I find funny is that he was only worried that the lawyer joke would offend me.

From Salon.

I'm back!

And I'm exhausted. So, a sampling of photos from my weekend:

Where not to stay when you visit St. Louis

The Millenium Hotel near Busch Stadium.

As much as I travel, I believe this is the only time I have actually checked into a hotel, then checked out, without staying there. Here are the things one finds (or at least, that I found) at this hotel:

• you have to park in a dark and dirty garage on the other side of a busy street, then either dodge the traffic or take escalators down to a pedestrian tunnel approximately 2000 leagues below sea level to get to the hotel--I don't mind parking and walking, but it is a significant and treacherous trek to this hotel
  
• their computers are down, so they send you up to your room without knowing if it is clean yet--in my case, this meant a 15-minute wait outside the room while the poor housekeeper hurriedly tried to finish
• they leave the prior guests' dirty bar glasses sitting outside your door
• on the cushion of the soft chair in the room there are spots of . . . something unidentified . . . that makes you want to throw up when you think about sitting in that chair
• the closet is located in the bathroom, so you get to hang your clothes on a scratched-up rod while looking at spots of black mold on the ceiling of the closet
  
• their in-room internet doesn't work, even after a lengthy call to the "help desk"
• while waiting for the "help desk" to get your internet to work, you have the joy of gazing at some unidentified substance that is smeared on the lamp on the desk
• when you go to the business services center to try to use a computer to find another hotel, you find that you are to be charged 20 cents a minute to use the computer
• the smell of smoke hangs everywhere because they put the elevators to the rooms right next to the wall-less bar in which everyone smokes

I wanted to get out of this hotel so desperately that I found a room at another hotel, took the trouble to repack my suitcase and briefcase, lug them across the traffic laden street to the parking garage and drive to the other side of Busch Stadium to my new hotel. Thankfully, I found a very nice room at the Westin that did not cost much more than my room at the Godforsaken Hotel and is a million times nicer and cleaner. I felt more relaxed just by walking in the door of this room.

Anyway, that being said:

Go, Cubs!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and

Cards suck!

Small updates

So, I leave for Minneapolis tomorrow. I will spend less than 24 hours there before jetting off to St. Louis. Happily, I will arrive just in time to take in the Cubs game from my hotel room (via the joy of the internet) while working before leaving for my client dinner. Ah, the small joys.

After cancelling my first appointment with my personal assistant (there must be a better and less snooty-sounding term for her--help, internet friends!) because I was too embarassed for her to see my house that dirty, I have now cleaned up sufficiently to let her visit. But I still don't want to see the look of horror on her face, so I'm leaving the key and to-do list for her to pick up after I leave for the airport. Cowardly, eh? She has already done wonderful things for me, such as procuring a housekeeper who will clean next Tuesday and inspiring me to schedule long overdue check-ups for both my dogs and myself. I'm pretty sure that she will change my life.

My plans for next weekend's trip to Chicagoland are falling into place and I'm looking forward to it! My mother has been duly notified of my impending visit, though my brother has not deigned to return my call yet (expected). I have a place to stay each night. I will see family members and my good friend Beth and her family; we will also shop at my very favorite store, which is only in Chicago and New York. Chicago-based events will include a Cubs game, a nice dinner out at a place I've always wanted to try, an architecture boat tour, the Jazz Fest I have always wanted to check out, and a visit to either the Shedd Aquarium or the Modern Art Museum. Plus, of course, goof-around time.

Why, oh why, can't I fall asleep, when I must arise early in order to prepare for my trip and see the dogs off on the puppy bus?

Yet another reason to move to New York

is this "overheard":

NewsFlash: Eccentric Dean of Electoral College Invokes Little-Known Constitutional Provision

Hobo: Attention, attention! I'm playing this saxophone to raise money for my spaceship!

Plays a horrible rendition of "Pop Goes the Weasel."

Hobo: I'm going into space, and I'm taking George Bush with me!

Fellow passengers cheer.

--1 train

Movie Review: The Oh in Ohio

I saw this movie last Sunday because Joshua Newman of Self Aggrandizement told me I should. Let it be known that his company (Cyan) funded the movie, or distributed it, or something like that. Can you say: Ulterior motive? And now, as I write this review, he writes on his web site about how his bank balance has been padded by ticket sales (while also updating us on his recent vacation in Hawaii). Hmph.

The best things about this movie are the performances of Parker Posey and Danny DeVito. Posey is funny and warm and evocative. DeVito is beguiling (how many times has that been written?) and warm and interesting. Their performance are excellent and may make it worth the $8 price of admission, but I will have to think about that.

The worst thing about this movie is the lack of a story to tell. Mind you, I am not a hard-to-please movie watcher: I like "You've Got Mail," for goodness' sake. I am the kind of movie watcher who uncritically soaks in the movie for its entertainment value, letting it unfold before me without trying to guess what will happen next or how it will end. But at the end of this movie, all I really knew was, "She doesn't want to get back together with her husband and she may/may not end up getting fired at her job."

Long story short: this movie could have been much more, but was not.

Where I grew up.

In a few weeks, I will spend the days before my 37th birthday back where it all began . . . in Central Illinois in the little town where I grew up. I find myself thinking about home tonight, maybe because I need to actually let my mother know that I am coming to visit. I thought about waiting to write this until I visit home, but now I've written it and, by golly, I'm going to share it with you! Here are some things I remember about my home:



It was a town of 5000 people (which now claims to have 5600 residents), divided in two by a two-lane "highway." When I was living there, the town did not have any stoplights. It now has two or three, depending on where you believe the city ends. The highway through town was the dividing line for us kids, as in, "don't cross the highway!" When I was in high school, the highway was where we went "cruising," meaning that we would drive up and down it, with the turnaround points being the loop of the Tastee Freeze parking lot on one end and a loop created by a triangle of streets on the other end.

My town had no fast food places of any kind. The nearest fast food was a McDonald's in the next town over, which was five miles away. We ate at the Tastee Freeze, which was also where the annual Easter egg hunt took place, in the grassy area behind the parking lot. I have fond memories of going to the "Freeze" after softball games as a team . . . I usually chose a chocolate and vanilla twist in a small cone.

When I was very young, my town still had a downtown movie theater. I remember watching movies there when the Cooper boys and their parents (whom I will visit next weekend in Missouri) came to town. The only specific movie I remember seeing was a Frankenstein movie that I found really creepy. That movie theater didn't make it past my grade school years. I'm not sure what happened to it, but want to find out while I'm home this time.

Across the street from the movie theater was the library. It was a two-story, brown brick building, with the children's section downstairs and the rest of the holdings upstairs. For me, the library was the cultural and entertainment center that many kids today find in the mall. I spent hours and hours there, choosing books to borrow, reading books, flipping through magazines, and otherwise exploring the world through what I could find on the shelves and read on the comfortable chairs on the second floor. There was no coffee and they didn't sell picture frames or notebooks or small candy items at the checkout. But they ran a summer reading program that combined by love of reading with my love of measurable accomplishment. resulting in ridiculously long lists of books read, which I wish I still had. My town has a new library now, but they still use the "old" part of the library I remember, which has been remodeled. I was excited to find these pictures, which include the old checkout desk and tables and chairs that I remember.

We did not have a swimming pool, but instead went swimming at Foli Park (which I think was an old gravel quarry) or at the PNA (short for Polish National Association) pool. We would take a picnic with us and swim the day away, enjoying the fruits of our swimming lesson labors. At that time, our YMCA did not actually have a pool, so lessons took place at the homes of people willing to loan out their pools. One was an outdoor concrete pool that looked like something out of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.



Another was an indoor pool in a neighboring town . . . I was always amazed to think of a family just like ours having an indoor pool.

My best friend Amy lived out in the country, and we liked to ride our bikes together and have adventures. These included swimming pool games with her brother and his friends when I had a broken nose and wasn't supposed to be in the pool at all. Another adventure was when we tried to explore a haunted, deserted farm house, only to be chased away by a farmer who drove his tractor cross-ways across his field just to scare us off. We were surprised and excited to find a busy creek in the woods just down the street from my house, and spent a happy afternoon sliding down its waterfall, only to discover we had turned our shorts green with algae.

My parents' friends lived at the first farm on the road out of town. We visited them often and my brother and I even stayed with them while by grandfather was sick. I liked exploring their big, drafty farm house and their barns full of kittens and horses. Even though they only lived five minutes away from us, their world was vastly different than that we inhabited in town.

I plan to have my camera along (of course!) when I visit home in a few weeks. But for now, you may wish to check out the work of the Farmer's Wife, who is a really excellent photographer. She appears to live very near where I grew up and shows the beauty in that part of the world.

Things One Sees On A Night At Bricktown Ballpark, Home of the Oklahoma Redhawks

Today was quite eventful. First, my client and I almost accidentally drove to Arkansas, rather than to the small Oklahoma town in the other direction that was our destination. It actually turned into a bonding experience. Our meetings ran late, but I was still able to catch the last half of the minor league baseball game of the Oklahoma Redhawks, a AAA team for the Texas Rangers. They were playing the Cardinals minor league team from Memphis at the Bricktown Ballpark.



Here are some things I saw:

• The longest beer lines I have ever seen at any ballpark
  
• an Elvis "mascot" played by a guy with a distinctly British accent, who tries to engage the crowd in games and antics in between innings
  
• a guy in the stands who yelled out that the Elvis mascot is a "f-ing fag"
• a mass singing of the show tune, "Oklahoma"
  
• a scoreboard that plays commercials for a hospice in between innings
• a scoreboard that welcomes "Olga Pavlov from Italy"
• a guy who enjoys pointing to his wife's posterior to his buddies while she stands to cheer on the team, as if the buddies should "take note"
• a shortstop charged with two errors on the same play--one for a botched catch and another for a botched throw
• a "Dawg Pound" area with an array of hotdogs named in honor of different Midwestern cities
• a place where the ticket sellers are so nice that when you ask what the best seat available is, instead of selling you that $15 seat, they tell you you should buy a $6 general admission ticket and sit wherever you like
  

Remember when I was really, really sick immediately after returning from NYC?

I hope against all hope that this isn't why:



During my NYC trip, my friend Jay took me to the Shake Shack (click here for the Shack Cam) for a Saturday afternoon snack. And I just learned, via Kottke, that the Shack failed a health inspection miserably just 10 days after I ate there, with 140 violations points and findings including (UGH!):

1.)	General
2.)	Non-food contact surface improperly constructed. Unacceptable material used. Non-food contact surface or equipment improperly maintained.
3.)	Accurate thermometer not provided in refrigerated or hot holding equipment.
4.)	Plumbing not properly installed or maintained; anti-siphonage or backflow prevention device not provided where required; equipment or floor not properly drained; sewage disposal system in disrepair or not functioning properly.
5.)	Facility not vermin proof. Harborage or conditions conducive to vermin exist.
6.)	Food Protection
7.)	Tobacco use, eating, drinking in food preparation, food storage or dishwashing area observed.
8.)	Toilet facility not provided for employees or for patrons when required.
9.)	Hand washing facility not provided in or near food preparation area and toilet room. Hot and cold running water at adequate pressure not provided at facility. Soap and an acceptable hand-drying device not provided.
10.)	Evidence of flying insects or live flying insects present in facility's food and/or non-food areas.
11.)	Appropriately scaled metal stem-type thermometer not provided or used to evaluate temperatures of potentially hazardous foods during cooking, cooling, reheating and holding.
12.)	Cooked or prepared food is cross-contaminated.
13.)	Food worker does not wash hands thoroughly after visiting the toilet, coughing, sneezing, smoking, preparing raw foods or otherwise contaminating hands.
14.)	Food Protection Certificate not held by supervisor of food operations.
15.)	Cold food held above 41°F (smoked fish above 38°F) except during necessary preparation.

What's in my Moleskine?

Pictured here is a Moleskine notebook. I own about ten of them and always have one with me so I can take notes when I have the urge. I write about all manner of things in it, from planning notes to observations to things I want to write about later, whether here or elsewhere. I typically finish using one notebook before I move on to another, but sometimes I find myself grabbing a half-filled Moleskine when switching bags or something, so I end up with a mishmash of non-sequential notes.

While flying from Dallas to Oklahoma City this afternoon, I found myself flipping curiously through the Moleskine in my purse to see what is in it. I was amused by the random assortment of things I found and thought you might be as well. These items offer some insight about me, sort of like Kell's lists of 25 things.

Here's what you would find in my Moleskine:

• planning information for my Christmas trip to Paris;
• notes I took regarding my time in Paris, including what I did and saw and my thoughts and feelings, such as "I ask to have my passport stamped at the Charles DeGaulle customs desk, and le police rolls his eyes as if fulfilling my request will sap his last bit of life force";
• a "things I hate about airline travel" list, drafted at an unknown time;
• the U2 line, "You've got yourself stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it";
• biographical information on a guy I would like to work for at the ACLU;
• notes from my trip to Austin in February 2006, which begin with "'Read a Fucking Book' is written on the serious-looking coffee drinker's black t-shirt";
• a reminder to myself to buy computer screen cleaner;
• planning information for my March 2006 trip to Phoenix for Cubs spring training and a Sedona visit;
  
• notes taken during a March 20, 2006 immigration policy speech given by the Senator from Texas John Cornyn at a luncheon in Dallas, in which I observe that Cornyn is trying to convince us that the Mexican people pose a huge risk for smuggling WMD's across our Southern border, and with this note about the man sitting across from me at my table, who is the longtime head of the Dallas County Republican Party: "avuncular, with white hair, tucked into his salad immediately upon sitting without introducing himself to anyone else at the table, ate his entire entree and dessert in the time it took the rest of us at the table to eat the first few bites of our entrees";
• notes taken during my March 2006 trip to Phoenix and Sedona;
• notes taken during a March 28, 2006, talk by author Azar Nafisi, who wrote "Reading Lolita in Tehran" and spoke at an Arts and Letters Live gathering sponsored by the Dallas Museum of Art--she said, among other things: "When you write, you need to put yourself in the place of those you despise because then you understand their vulnerabilities and your own strengths";
• notes taken during my April 2006 trip to Chicago;
• notes taken on April 21, 2006, regarding some thoughts I had while sitting in a courtroom waiting for my case to be called;
• notes taken on April 22, 2006, regarding thoughts on Americans that occurred to me while waiting at a car wash, including, "two old men sitting on a bench are talking about the current Administration and one said, 'anything would be better than what we've got now,' just before they both climbed into a huge, gas-guzzling dark green Chevy truck and drove away";
• a March 31, 2006, note about a Southwest Airlines operations agent who had a Bush/Cheney sticker and a "Terrorist Hunting Permit" sticker on the clipboard he holds out for all passengers to see as they board;
• a (sadly) unintelligible story that a little girl wrote for me on a flight to Austin, along with a picture of a boat that she drew;
• notes from the April 2006 ACLU Human Rights Conference I attended;
• notes from a David Sedaris talk, including this quote: "I think there is a difference between filth generated by the writer and that observed";
• notes from the Ken Lay cross examination I watched at the federal court in Houston;
• notes taken during my flight to San Diego, which reflect my belief that the guy sitting near me was a federal air marshal and, if that is true, my concern about the fact that he was so removed from modern life that he asked about my IPOD, saying "I never saw one before, but heard about them on Michael Reagan's AM radio show because he has podcasts," just before he pulled out a can of chewing tobacco and placed a pinch between his cheek and gum;
• notes from work-related calls I made while traveling;
• my review of the movie "Friends With Money";
• a quote I liked in a Dallas Observer article by Richie Whitt: "It's not the heat, it's the lack of humility . . . ";
• planning notes and thoughts I had while in NYC this July;
  
• contact information for a lawyer I met who is trying to save Washington Square Park in NYC from misguided changes;
• notes from the Volvo service waiting area, which I turned into a post for this blog; and
• the business card of a guy I met while waiting for my flight back to Dallas last Friday night.

After reading this list, you may fear for my sanity . . .

On the road again

After a nice no-travel respite, I am reentering a travel phase of life:

• Oklahoma City for the rest of this week (business)
  
• Minneapolis, St. Louis and Boonville, MO next week (business and pleasure)
• Chicago the week after that (pleasure)
• Atlanta at the end of September (business and pleasure)

And now I will go back to my empty roller bag, which I am trying to pack without any liquids--I'll try to write a bit from the road.

Better late than never

Despite my best intentions, I didn't have a chance to post yesterday, instead enjoying a marathon day at the office (yes, I realize it was Sunday).

On the bright side, however, despite how busy things are for me at work, I have carved out time in the last few weeks to do things that are good for me. Among these things are:

• bugging out on a quiet Friday afternoon a few weeks ago to take care of errands and see a movie
• researching potential new cell/PDA purchases so as not to buy a lemon
• finding out how to back up all the pictures, music, documents and other files stored on my laptop and actually doing it
• planning a trip home for my birthday, on which I will actually visit my family before hitting the one-year mark of not seeing them
• making efforts, however feeble, to make contact with friends I haven't seen in a while due to working so much
• putting in some work time on the weekend that makes my week much more manageable (okay, that is really a work item, but it helps me personally too)
• finding someone to help me dig out from under the pile of "at-home projects" I have to do

This last item has me completely excited! I finally overcame the guilt of needing a "personal assistant" despite being a single woman with nothing more than two dogs and a house to keep track of. But I forced myself to acknowledge that with the hours I have been working and will continue working this year and next, there simply isn't time to do a good job at work and also tackle all the personal projects on my plate.

I searched Craigslist a few weeks ago and found a few likely candidates for the job, but couldn't get anyone to call me back; I was also nervous about using a stranger for tasks that would have her in my home, with my dogs, without me. Fate intervened and yesterday I struck a deal with a friend of a friend who is an organizational freak looking for something to do while her kids are in school this fall. I am thrilled to have someone who is so on top of things and whom I can trust with my house and my dogs to help whittle down my to-do list! She will work on my projects part-time, on her own timetable, with the exception that I want to be able to have some people over around the holidays and would like the basic interior stuff and the awning to be finished by then. The cost is very reasonable, especially for someone I know I can trust.

If you're wondering what kinds of things I could possibly need someone to do for me, they include:

• researching and finding options for a new awning for the porch on my house, as mine is completely frayed and flapping in the wind
• having someone finish out the ceiling area above the light installed in my breakfast area, which for some reason was hung from in the midst of a gaping hole
  
• finding switchplates for several light switches in the kitchen, which a contractor left uncovered, and replacing the dingy switchplates upstairs
• overseeing installation of a new automatic porch light and yard lights
  
• attending to door lock issues on a few of my doors
• arranging for the repair of an area of my house where I had a water leak
• getting touch-ups of a few "paint dings" in my dining room
  
• having someone fix the closet door that came off its track
• coordinating installation of a silver-edged shower door, now that I've changed all my other bathroom items from brass to silver
• finding someone who can stop the constant running of my commode and solve the mystery of why there appears to be a rusty buildup in both commodes
  
• overseeing the cleaning (literally) and painting of my bedroom closets and laundry room
  
• coordinating with Goodwill regarding all the clothes I'm pulling out of my closet and all the other items appropriate for donation that I'm weeding out as I simplify
• selling all my purged books to Half Price Books
• researching house painters and the cost for having my house painted
• coordinating new landscaping for my front yard
• coordinating the cleanup of my back yard
• motivating me to purge, simplify and organize at home by her mere presence

As you can probably tell, I'm trying to get my house well-situated so I can put it on the market if my dream job drops by. But I also want to be able to enjoy it while I'm still living in it, and for me, enjoying a house means not only liking to be in it, but also being proud to have others drop by to visit me in it. That has been lacking for at least the last year and a half. I am relieved to know that help is on the way!

Thanksgiving in August

Kell's mention of Thanksgiving in this post reminded me of one of my favorite Thanksgivings ever. If you can't write about Thanksgiving in August, why bother to have a blog at all?

I was a first year law student and too freaked out about the need to study for finals to take time to actually leave the state to go home for the weekend. So a few friends/classmates and I decided that we would have our own Thanksgiving together.

K hosted our gathering and she provided many of the traditional Thanksgiving dishes, as well as a lovely environment in which we could enjoy them. E donated a turkey that he won through a radio contest; I still giggle at the thought of him winning a Turkey, but it's true--he did--and it was delicious! (Looking back on it, it is remarkable that K let him bring a turkey, as she was a fairly staunch vegetarian, I think.) A provided the dessert for our little feast, which if I recall correctly was a "flowerpot cake," with chocolate cake as dirt and other fixings that we found amusing. I cannot for the life of me recall what my own contribution was, but I suspect it was something that required no skill of any kind, such as rolls and wine or something.

K, E, A and I had a great time at what felt like our first grown-up holiday dinner, meaning the first one that we had prepared for ourselves, instead of eating with our own families or someone else's family. Well after dinner ended--later in Thanksgiving weekend--E was kind enough to drive me to the hospital for what proved to be my second of three bouts with kidney stones. I remember this trip most vividly due to the doctor catching E trying to pocket some spare rubber gloves he found in the examination room for later use.

But what I remember most about that time together with my friends was that we felt like a family. It was in spending time with them that I realized we can choose our own families in the friends with whom we surround ourselves. I did not realize it at the time, but that Thanksgiving was the beginning of a family of a different kind.

Making a tough decision?

Let the Self-Taught Girl help you help yourself!

No more bitterness

I have removed the post of bitterness because every time I saw it here, it made me feel bad all over again. I am glad to have vented, but will not let the subject of that post soil my blog for all time. How freeing it is to have made that decision!

In other news, I actually plan to post again tomorrow! My travel saga will continue this week, with three days spent in Oklahoma, but I am going to do my best to post anyway. In the meantime, here's one of my favorite photos:



I am in housecleaning mode, both literally and figuratively. Literally, I removed about 1/4 of the clothing from my closet tonight, with more to follow. I realize now that I owned a disproportionate number of light blue shirts. Many of these shirts and the other clothing I removed, to be donated to Goodwill, no longer fit me or are not active members of my wardrobe for other reasons. I look forward to finishing the closet sweep over the course of this week and next weekend!

I also--at long last--acquired a device for backing up my computer, and have already done so. Whoo-hoo!

Finally, I'm going to focus on positivity. I have let the negative weigh me down too much of late and want to try my old fallbacks: humor and positive thinking. Who knows what may happen?

The red plastic gas can

Fort Worth is deceptively close to Dallas . . . it seems as if it is right next door, but in fact it is the longest 30-45 minute drive known to man. The two cities are connected by a long, straight, congested highway, with the highlights of the drive being a wax museum owned by Ripley!'s and the misplaced Ballpark at Arlington (where the Texas Rangers play).

One hot summer morning a few years ago, I was driving to Fort Worth for a client meeting. Driving, that is, until the car spluttered and felt as if it was struggling to breathe. And I realized that the car was running out of gas. The car and I managed to coast for a while, but not far enough to reach a gas station or even an exit, for that matter; we came to rest, none too gently, on the shoulder of the busy highway. A frantic call to the American Automobile Association was met with a promise of a 45-minute wait (minimum) for help. Desperate to make my meeting, I called the police.

Yes, the police.

Friends with whom I am close enough to share this story later said, "the police?" Well, it seemed logical: they are there to help in case of emergency, and I was having an emergency.

I waited only a few minutes before a police officer arrived, slowly pulling up his car behind mine on the highway's shoulder. At the moment when I first heard the officer's steps approaching my car, I realized that my car registration was about a year out of date. I quickly stepped out of the car, teetering on my rarely-worn heels in front of the outdated registration sticker. And then I noticed that walking toward me was the most handsome police officer I had ever seen in my life.

Handsome Police Officer ("HPO") quickly sized up the situation and was kind enough to offer to give me a lift to a gas station where I could pick up, well, some gas. I wasn't exactly broken-hearted at the concept of a ride in the car of the HPO. I was grateful that I was nicely dressed that day and merrily pictured myself riding in the seat next to HPO, discussing how many children we might have together. My fanciful thoughts were quickly quashed, however, when he explained that it is against department policy to carry a passenger in the front seat, even a law-abiding passenger like me. Breathing a sigh of relief that HPO had not noticed my seriously outdated car registration and still believed me to be a law-abiding citizen, I reluctantly climbed into the back seat of the squad car.

And this, my friends, was my first time ever riding in a police car. HPO and I made our way to the nearest gas station, talking of all kinds of life experiences as if we had known each other forever. He was recently divorced, having married fairly young, and spoke of his ex wife in such a gracious way that I knew he was a truly good person. This was only confirmed when we arrived at the gas station, as the HPO was nice enough to fill up the red plastic gas can I purchased. He returned me to my car, transferred the gasoline to my tank and sent me on my way, feeling better about the Men in Blue than I had in a long time. The encounter felt just like a great date, with the unusual feature of the conversation occurring through the protection screen of a squad car.

And I made my client meeting, arriving only a few minutes late.

**************************

Next time, I'll tell you the story of the gas shortage in the dead of winter in Chicago.

The first Post Secret

that made me cry because it is so true: