Austin360 blogs > Bottlecaps & Wingnuts > Archives > By Dave Thomas category
By Dave Thomas
July 28, 2008
The last B&W blog
Thank you, everyone, for your kind comments. It has been a fun 502 blogs and an interesting run.
We’ll see you down the road.
Dave, Shannon and the boy
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
July 22, 2008
The (almost) last B&W blog
After more than three-and-a-half years, 501 blogs and 514 comments … it’s time for this blog to come to an end.
I know, despite planning this for about half a year now, I’m a bit sad myself.
Since the boy was born, this blog has been about him, my reactions to being a father and the occasional looks back at wilder times. But it didn’t start that way. Back in the early months of 2005, I volunteered to be a sort of John Kelso Jr.
You know, the everyday guy who eats hamburgers and drinks cheap beer and watches football on TV. I was supposed to offer my would-be (but not quite) blue-collar take on culture to help balance out the, uh, embrace of things trendy you’ll find elsewhere on this site.
But the blog morphed as I did. There were music reviews. A stretch of mountain biking commentary (with endless gushing over the Barton Creek Greenbelt). Then triathlon training. There was bar commentary, high school football poetry and more blathering about Willie Nelson’s Fourth of July Picnic than anyone but me cares to read. There was a bit of travel, but not enough.
I found a core group of readers, and then another when I started blogging about my son. I appreciate all four or five of you — even those whose constant suggestions and advice I found to be sometimes overbearing.
In the past year, this blog has offered no real value to Austin readers — at least not what you’d expect from a staff blog on Austin360.com. No, it’s simply been a personal blog of sorts, and that’s not a role I’m really comfortable with.
So, I move on.
There’s a few loose ends:
I never did get back to you on Joe Nick Patoski’s Willie Nelson biography … because I’m still reading it. But it’s excellent once the history hits Austin, full of little details to enthrall the most dedicated fan: Did you know that it was artist Jim Franklin who introduced Willie and Leon Russell?
The boy walks the walk, but talking the talk? Not so much. He’s getting there.
Did I lose the 45 pounds I gained since spring 2005 and return triumphantly to triathlons? No. But I’ve lost 15 and did manage to jog nearly a mile this morning (a far cry from the 7 miles I could jog two years ago … but, it’s a start).
And, finally, a not-forgotten request from a longtime friend. Back in August 2006, my buddy Scott asked me to write a blog about the Nutty Brown Cafe, heading out toward Dripping Springs. He had grown up just a mile or so from there, back when that area was “in the middle of nowhere.”
I said sure, I’d go there and write a blog about it. But pregnancy (Shannon’s … not mine) and fatherhood distracted me. Next thing you know, two years have passed.
There’s something in there about not going home again, life moving quickly and the increasing difficulty of slowing down enough to look back. Or maybe it’s just that I’m lazy, I don’t know.
Either way, we’re moving forward.
Here we go …
Permalink | Comments (7) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
July 21, 2008
Wobble the line
When I asked the pediatrician why the boy wasn’t walking yet, he did not say “come on, look at the size of that boy’s head!”
But he pretty much said that between his noggin and belly, it was harder for him to balance on his own than it was for slimmer kids without a bowling ball for a head.
The boy didn’t like that answer, I guess. Within a week of that 15-month appointment he was walking all over the house, wobbling like a tiny drunken fratboy (if that’s not redundant).
He also likes to climb on top of the coffee table when I have my back turned, thrusting his arms triumphantly after reaching the summit. Pretty soon he’s going to learn some hard lessons about gravity. We already have had a wee busted lip.
Sorry about leaving that self-indulgent birthday blog up all last week. Things got complex around here and I couldn’t return to the blog. I can already see that I’ve only a few weeks before the boy starts running and chasing him will become my full-time fitness routine.
The boy examines dad’s new running shoes to see if they are up to the challenge.
And, hey, this is Blog No. 500. Thanks for reading all the way through.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
July 14, 2008
Today I am 37
Happy birthday to me, I’m officially in my “upper 30s.”
Here it is, 37 years old, and A) the Belgians just purchased Anheuser-Busch and B) Brett Favre can’t leave well enough alone and stay retired.
From what I understand, Belgium has excellent beer. Why do they have to mess with my beer? Why do I fear a “New Coke” moment is on its way?
And Favre is on the road from transitioning from someone I would tell my son about in reverent tones to “Daddy, why is that old man wearing a football helmet?”
That’s what’s troubling me today, a welcome break from war, politics and people doing bad things to kids.
Today I’m back on the job after about two weeks of vacation and I feel all right, I guess. The boy is doing well — his most recent discovery is that if he brings me a book, I will read it to him — but that wasn’t the most exciting thing of the past week.
No, I sold something on eBay. Not something valuable. Not something useful. No, I sold a dancing Coke can from nearly 20 years ago … that does not work. And I said so on my listing.
I basically said “this is a piece of junk, but you might be drunk enough to buy it anyway.”
And someone did.
Very exciting. What else can I sell?
Permalink | Comments (7) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
July 7, 2008
Willie Picnic '08: Report 2
Perhaps I was a little too quick to dismiss the Willie Nelson Fourth of July Picnic in Selma as something short of a real Picnic.
Given how it has evolved over the years, it fits right in. Besides, who am I to judge? A veteran of the Picnics in Dripping Springs or College Station or Gonzales might look at my beloved Luckenbach Picnics and say “Where’s the drugs? Where’s the nudity? Where’s the wildness? That’s not a real Picnic.”
So, sure. We’ll count it as a traditional Willie Picnic. Even though we were missing Leon Russell … where were you Leon?
My personal distaste for this year’s picnic was no doubt amplified by the fact that I was still sick from the whatever-it-was gastrointestinal bug that had struck me down last Tuesday. My Picnic partner was also ill, so I had to sit there by myself, feeling ill-at-ease with a stomach too rumbly to have any beer or enjoy the bad food.
Oh, I tried to have some beer. I was provided with several options for Bud Light: the 16-ounce draft beer for $7, the 16-ounce bottle beer for $8, the 24-ounce draft beer for $9, or the 24-ounce can for $10. Premium beer (or, beer snobs take note, what Verizon Wireless Amphitheater deemed to be premium beer) cost even more.
Mysteriously, they seemed to immediately run out of 16-ounce cups for the draft beer. So I forked over $9 for a 24-ounce cup of beer that I in no way could finish before it got warm. “This is the most I have ever paid for a beer,” I told the guy. He was not impressed.
I mean, seriously. Nine dollars for a beer?
This wasn’t peanuts. No they were $4, same as a bottle of water.
And there were people who seemed to have brought the whole family, multiple kids included, to this event. How on earth could anyone afford this?
I did notice that Verizon provided a “family zone” in the lawn seating area. A roped-off smoke- and alcohol-free area. It was largely empty throughout the day.
I do want to call out Event Staff No. 139. In the half-hour between musical acts, I had plenty of time to observe what was going on around me. Now Mr. 139 had been vigorously enforcing the no-smoking rule in the seating area through mean faces and violent hand gestures and fiercely guarding the gate leading to the higher-dollar seating area.
At one point, an older woman and her younger escort — we’ll assume it was her daughter — had to get up, I assume to use the restroom. She was seated at the front end of the upper-tier section that I was in, about 20 rows in front of me, and just next to the gate that led to a walkway between our section and the higher-priced sections.
If she could go through that gate, she would have a straight shot to the bathooms.
Now let me point out that this was no slightly older woman. Nor was she just lazy. No, she was hunched over with age, walking in tiny steps leaning on her daughter. This was a woman who had probably seen the Depression.
Would Mr. 139 let her through the gate? No. He did not budge. Instead, this woman had to walk back up the slick concrete ramp to the top of the amphitheater and shuffle all the way around to bathrooms.
An hour or so later, I saw the older lady and her daughter seated in padded folding chairs in the VIP section, directly in front of Mr. 139. She must have found the right person to complain to. Good. And Mr. 139, I hope it ate you up.
The house music provided what little entertainment we had between sets. The crowd sang along with Robert Earl Keen and “The Road Goes on Forever.” The crowd was puzzled by Bon Jovi and “Bad Medicine.” The crowd was insulted (well, at least I was) by Alan Jackson’s “Where I Come From.”
Let me share one of David Allan Coe’s quotes of the day: “… songwriters … songwriters … songwriters … there’s a lot of great songwriters here today and I’m one of them.”
Well, there was a lot of mumbling in between. But that’s what I remember.
There seemed to be a lot of young girls at the Picnic who had won the “you are NOT going to go out dressed like that” argument. They weren’t the only ones out of place. A few rows in front of me sat a guy who looked like an investment banker on a yacht, along with his wife, who looked like that rich aunt who never had any children but did have a little work done.
From my notebook: “You can’t swing an overpriced T-shirt without hitting someone selling overpriced beer.”
I spent much of the last 45 minutes of my night talking to a 75-year-old woman from Austin who had just driven down to see the Picnic because it seemed like fun.
I didn’t ask her name, because by the time it was obvious this was going to be more than a fleeting conversation, she had revealed so much it seemed disingenuous to say, hey, I’m a reporter of sorts and tell me who you are.
But it was a pleasant conversation, especially given that I had been at the Picnic for 9 hours already by myself.
She had enjoyed the Picnic — especially Merle Haggard’s set. But I’ll remember her for two wonderfully innocent questions.
First, we saw a police officer leading away a young woman in handcuffs. I looked over and she asked me “What on earth could you get arrested here for?”
And later she asked, “What song do you think Willie we open with?”
For those looking for other coverage of the Picnic, John Goodspeed of the San Antonio Express-News provided on-the-spot blogging. You’ll have to scroll down a bit to find ‘em.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
July 5, 2008
Willie Picnic '08: Report 1
When the rain poured down at 1:15 p.m., just as Pat Green was beginning his set, it blew nearly halfway into the amphitheater, soaking many of us who thought we were in the “sheltered” seats.
The illusion of protection was enough for many wandering the grounds, though. They overwhelmed the staff and surged down the rain-slicked ramp between the seating sections. Those of us in the seats had to stand to see … and there we all were: Standing, wet, dancing and dripping, shoulder-to shoulder.
I was writing between the raindrops in my notebook. For a moment, it felt like a real Willie Nelson Fourth of July Picnic.
After that, it was just a concert.
Don’t get me wrong, it was a fine concert. In every shady spot with a seat, there was a senior citizen waiting it out to Ray Price and Merle Haggard and Willie Nelson. Underfoot there was no shortage of children enjoying the day. Everywhere else, there were music fans of all sorts waving their ($7, $8, $9 or more) beers in the air and having a good time.
I arrived as Del Castillo was finishing up just before noon and settled into my seat for what was going to be several interminable waits in between sets. There was a full 5 minutes of silence before someone thought to turn on a little house music. There were no emcees of any sort beyond the occasional appearance by a local disc jockey.
The 30-minute delays between sets were, simply put, the most exhausting part of the day. It’s just not fun looking at your watch at 5:05 and knowing that it’s not only more than 4 hours until Willie’s set, but that half of that time is going to down time, with nothing to do but buy $40 T-shirts, $9 cheeseburgers or a $4 bottle of water.
Asleep at the Wheel has gotten little respect in my past reporting on the picnics, typically because they take the stage at the beginning of the show, but after watching Friday’s show, I have to hand it to them. Ray Benson and Co. played all out — from “Miles and Miles of Texas” to “Happy Trails” — for a pretty sparse early afternoon crowd.
Johnny Bush took the stage at 2:15 with no introduction at all (this was typical) and seemed a little bitter at his hometown: “During our portion of the show what you hear is traditional country music,” Bush said. “It’s something you don’t hear much in this town anymore.”
That’s not overboard, but when he pulled out his fiddle and presented it to the crowd — “This is a fiddle” — there seemed to be little humor in his voice.
It was Ray Wylie Hubbard, who took the stage with son Lucas, harmonica guru Mickey Raphael and a drummer whose name I didn’t catch, who stole the show. “Snake Farm” sounded fantastic, but was quickly blown away by a bluesy instrumental that was essentially a jam-off between Lucas and Raphael.
“Drunken Poet’s Dream” was a stunner, as well. When Hubbard left the stage, he hadn’t played “Redneck Mother” and there had been no shouts for it. Good for Ray Wylie. It was a great set.
Next up, Billy Joe Shaver was at his animated best, shadow boxing and throwing verbal jabs at his stand-up bass player until … he wrapped up “That’s What She Said Last Night.”
“Worst song I ever wrote,” Shaver had said when he started the song. Toward the end of the song — the part where a cell phone is a tongue-in-cheek metaphor for the male sexual organ — Billy Joe is describing how next time he’s going to get a bigger model, one that vibrates, talking about how women like them “bigger and better.”
Then he steps in it: “Some of ‘em like the black model — bigger and better,” he said. There was a deathly pause in the crowd. “Like Cowboy Troy,” Shaver quickly added, referring to the black country singer. “Bigger and better.”
I don’t know if Shaver knew he had crossed the line or not, but he quickly wrapped up the song and launched into “I’m Just and Old Chunk of Coal (But I’m Going to be a Diamond Someday).”
Shaver just can’t seem to keep out of trouble.
A raucous and irreverent performance by David Allan Coe, up next, might have gotten Shaver off the hook, and over the past two Texas picnics in Fort Worth, I had gushed over how Coe’s performances had been dynamite stuff.
On Friday, it was not to be. Coe and band took the stage in all black, perhaps overlooking that the entire Verizon stage, gear and backdrop were solid black. The effect rendered him all but invisible to everyone except those nearest the stage. He looked small, not larger-and-meaner-than-life, as he opened with a rough version of “Storms Never Last.”
After an almost-non-musical, disjointed version of “If That Ain’t Country,” Coe picked up a little energy with “Take This Job and Shove It” and finally hit his stride with “The RIde.” But his set was all but over by then. His closer, “You Never Even Called Me By My Name,” did get the day’s first thunderous sing-along.
By 6:30 p.m., Los Lonely Boys had wrapped up their jams, there was still plenty of daylight, there had not been a single Willie sighting and the third-to-last band was coming up next. After the big rain and a few brief showers, it was cool and breezy in the shade.
I don’t yet have attendance figures, but it was far from sold-out. For $10, anyone with a spot on the lawn could upgrade to reserved seating.
The Cherokee Cowboys start up on time, looking sharp in their white button-up shirts. I’m counting 14 of them — with Ray Price there’s enough of them to make 5 Los Lonely Boys.
Ray sounds great and gets a lot of respect from the crowd as he sings “Heartaches by the Number,” “Night Life,” “Make the World Go Away” and “For the Good Times.”
During “You Don’t Love Me Anymore” he forgets the last few lines of the song and laughs to himself. “That’s what you’d call a senior moment” he tells an adoring crowd. I don’t know if it was spontaneous (I’d like to think it was), but he follows this up with a poignant version of “Time” — sounding just as sharp as he’s ever been.
It must be good to be Merle Haggard, knowing that you can pick any of dozens and dozens of huge hits to open the show with and it’ll be met with a roar. Haggard picked an easy pleaser, “Mama Tried,” but followed that up with a few slightly more obscure songs “That’s the Way Love Goes,” “Makeup and Faded Blue Jeans” and “White Line Fever.”
We hear “Rose of San Antone” for the third time, but it hardly matters. “Think I’ll Just Stay Here and Drink” gets the biggest reception of the night.
After a long delay, again, we’re primed for Willie’s first appearance of the “picnic” at 9:15 p.m.
And here comes a rock band? It’s 40 Points and they jam for a trio of songs. I don’t mind seeing 40 Points — Lukas Nelson can really play that guitar — but they should’ve been on the lineup. When you’ve waited for nearly 10 hours to see Willie, it’s time to see Willie
At 9:38, we finally do, and a minute later we hear picnic nirvana: “Whiskey River take my mind …”
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
July 2, 2008
Willie July 4 picnic lineup
Here it is, 2 days until my big event of the year, and I’m struck down by gastrointestinal distress — I’m thinking it was the migas at one of Austin’s finer breakfast establishments.
God willing, should I recover in time, you’ll be able to find a review of the July 4 picnic in Selma right here, on this blog, the day after the show. And probably the day after that and the day after that, too.
Until then, here’s how Friday looks, according to the folks at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater:
Del Castillo opens the show at 11:30 a.m., 30 minutes after the gates open.
Asleep at the Wheel is next, followed by a Pat Green set. After that, Johnny Bush, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Billy Joe Shaver and David Allan Coe have 20-minute sets.
Los Lonely Boys and Ray Price begin the evening, followed by Merle Haggard.
A 1 hour and 45-minute show by Willie and Family closes out the show, ending at 11 p.m.
Seem like a small lineup for a 11.5-hour show? Well, the folks at Verizon have built in a 30-minute delay between each set. I know this offers some leeway in case a set runs long or Willie wants to jam, but it still seems like a lot.
And who’s missing? Well, to begin with, all the smaller acts that typically hold the early afternoon hours at the picnic. There’s no Pauline Reese, no Geezinslaws, no up-and-comers like Shooter Jennings.
But there’s somebody else who is missing: Leon Russell.
It’s hard to be definitive, but I don’t think he’s ever missed a traditional (outside, on the Fourth, in Texas) Willie Picnic.
I’m not sure how traditional this picnic will be, but it’s not going to be the same without Leon. Now I wonder why he’s not playing this year?
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
June 25, 2008
Bigfoot sighting
It’s been since late May that we last posted a photo of the boy.
Just shy of 15 months now, he has been on the cusp of walking for 3 months now.
But can you blame him when he lugs these feets around?
Yes, there is a little perspective at work, but I have seen the bigfoot and I know the future.
(But if he grows into them, I’m getting my shoe investment back after the NFL Draft in April 2029.)
Might be close to time for haircut No. 3 …
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
June 24, 2008
Ready for a Family Picnic?
Willie Nelson’s Fourth of July Picnic is a little more than a week away, and we’ve hardly talked about it all.
(Not including, of course, the 200 inches I wrote on the history of the picnic back in April.)
This year, Willie’s continuing his recent pre-Fourth tradition of a 3rd of July concert at Carl’s Corner, the truckstop-turned-tourist stop just north of Hillsboro. Merle Haggard and Ray Price will be joining him.
On the Fourth, Willie ventures down to the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater in Selma (where Willie hosted a “Family Picnic” — not a Fourth of July Picnic — in August 2001).
Guests then included Dennis Quaid and Hayseed Dixie — the bluegrass AC/DC tribute band. This year, they include picnic regulars Price, David Allan Coe, Ray Wylie Hubbard, Billy Joe Shaver, Johnny Bush and Asleep at the Wheel. Also: Haggard, Pat Green and Los Lonely Boys.
I had tried to get information on the “and more” artists who will be playing and what the schedule might be like, but when the promoter is a huge corporation — Live Nation — they don’t really feel like they have to promote.
On July Fifth, Willie and Co. (minus, apparently, Pat Green) take the same show to The Showgrounds at Sam Houston Race Park in Houston. This marks the first time since 2003 that there has been a “picnic” on two days and the first time since 1983 that there’s been a picnic in two different cities on consecutive days … if you’re counting. (And I am.)
Oddly, the Live Nation site refers to both the Selma and Houston shows as “Willie Nelson’s Family Picnic” — a term that has been previously reserved for big shows not on or immediately adjacent to the Fourth of July.
It’s enough to drive a picnic purist crazy, but then, the picnic has re-engineered itself and re-imagined its legend at a pretty consistent clip.
I won’t be reporting from the picnic this year — I’m gonna be in the crowd, sipping beers of unimaginable cost and listening to the music rather than wrangling with security, chasing after artists and annoying fans.
I’m not going to say that I think this might be the last picnic or anything like that. In fact, I think it’ll be the first of a new era of completely corporate picnics. (I have reserved seats for this show. In the shade. Imagine that.)
But I will be taking notes. And blogging more than anyone wants to hear about it, once I return from San Antonio.
Hmm. As I finish typing this, the gates will open exactly 10 days and … 4 minutes from now.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
June 19, 2008
Bits of pre-child life
Does becoming a parent necessitate a complete personality change?
Must one become uber-parent, never looking beyond the toy-strewn living room except when you’re taking your child to a child-centric location or event?
Or can you re-claim bits of your pre-child life, from time to time, in small sanity-saving snatches?
Yes, Steve, I know what you think.
And the rest of you know what I think.
Shannon and I went to the xxxxxx xxxx on Saturday night. No, I’m not going to name the place. Not because I think you’re gonna make a mad rush to the bar on the outskirts of San Antonio, just a few miles from my in-laws’ place.
No, I just fear that putting its name in print will be a beacon for developers who want nothing more than to mow it down and put up a Bed, Bath & Beyond in its place.
Regardless, the xxxxxx xxxx was a real bar. Complete with cigarette smoke to the ceiling, Willie on the jukebox, a band with a stand-up bass in the corner and a completely out-of-nowhere poster of some Minnesota Vikings football player whose name I can’t recall.
The boy, safely zonked out with grandma and grandpa, didn’t even completely dominate our conversation. We stayed late and drank deep (and, later, slept late). It was nice to be Dave and Shannon for a few hours after a long stretch of “Dad” and “Mom.”
For the faithful readers, a funny story about the boy:
Once a week, the boy and I have lunch with Shannon at the Capitol cafeteria. She works in the area and we meet her there and head into the Capitol Extension for some turkey sandwiches.
Yesterday, we had my father-in-law with us, so we took a detour up to the rotunda in the Capitol proper. On the way back, we passed by the brass busts of the lieutenant governors.
I patted Bob Bullock on the head and motioned to Shannon, who was carrying the boy. I thought he might like to check out the very lifelike brass head.
You might know where I’m going with this. The boy got up close to the bust of Bob Bullock and stared, stared, stared. Cautiously he reached out and touched it. Suddenly he had a very spooked expression, as in “What in the heck is WRONG with this man?”
He looked at me. “What did you do to this guy?” I couldn’t help but laugh. It just didn’t occur to me that to the boy, this life-size brass head was a very real person with something terribly wrong.
We retreated, though the boy kept staring until ol’ Bob was out of sight.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
June 10, 2008
Forecast: Continued showers
I used a pair of pliers — needle-nose, even — to turn on the shower Tuesday morning.
This is, Shannon would probably not want me to omit, not a permanent thing.
No, as our house closes in on 20 years, we just had a small fixture foul-up.
This close-up of the faucet handle shows how the interior plastic thingamajig broke, as well as the general state of crud on the interior of the faucet handle.
This happened on Monday morning. As I turned off the shower, the faucet handle gave way, preventing me from fully stopping the flow of water.
My FIRST thought was that if I had to call a plumber, I was going to have to clean the bathroom, because our master bathroom is, quite simply, the foulest place on earth.
Perhaps I exaggerate slightly, but having the kid means we have reduced our housecleaning procedures to only the most essential elements. When we have guests, they don’t see the master bedroom, so it doesn’t get cleaned. If we do manage to clean the master bedroom, we don’t quite make it to the master bath, because, well, who really wants to clean the bathroom?
At this rate, I kind of look at it as we’re preparing a state-winning science fair project for a fifth-grade boy. I can hear the judges now …
Why Jenkins, this lad has developed a culture of rainbow mold!
But I quickly realized that a plumber was not necessary. I fetched the pliers to turn off the water and made plans to go to Home Depot that afternoon to fetch a replacement faucet handle.
This is not the faucet handle I purchased on Monday afternoon. No, I bought the wrong size one, which I had to return on Tuesday afternoon.
That I would buy the wrong faucet handle on Monday was a predictable development. I was in a hurry to get the repair done before I headed to work (so I would not have to arise at 6 a.m. and show Shannon how to turn on the shower with the pliers on Tuesday morning).
It was predictable and, of course, fulfilled two of the requirements of any Thomas household repair:
A) All jobs require at least 2 trips to Home Depot.
B) Everything is harder than you think.
On Tuesday, things worked a little better. We got the right size handle and I was able to prowl around Home Depot with the boy pointing out useful things such as pick axes and nail guns. (He was actually only impressed by the lighting aisle, which, come to think of it, would be stunning to a small child. Your typical room has one light fixture and this aisle has hundreds of them.)
The new fixture has this intact plastic sleeve which fits around …
… this brass doomahickey which serves as a valve for the water.
This was simply a matter of sliding this over the brass valve and screwing it into place, although the instructions on the faucet handle packaging said I should turn off the water supply — for reasons I cannot begin to fathom.
When installed, the new faucet handle was the cleanest thing in the bathroom by an order of magnitude.
(Neat phrase, huh? I borrowed it from my friend Bret, who in turn borrowed it from Bill Bryson.)
Kind of makes one want to clean the rest of the bathroom to match, right?
No.
Still, it sure beats showering with a pair of pliers.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
June 9, 2008
14-month update
OK, so we’re now a couple of months past the 1-year point. Let’s look at how the boy is doing:
Walking: No. He can stand on his own if he wants to and can scoot along furniture and walls upright, but has not begun to walk. Just this morning, though he sort of took a step from the couch to an upright toy just out of reach. I know I said this last month, but I bet he’s walking by the end of the month. And probably running a day after that.
Talking: His first distinctive word, appropriately used, was “kitty.” He’ll say “Da-Da” and “Ma-Ma” while looking at us, now, (as opposed to the wall, TV, cat, etc.) but I still don’t think he’s got it figured out. He seems to be a little behind on this to me, but maybe he just doesn’t have much to say.
Other: I’ve caught him reaching for doorknobs. He can’t reach ‘em, but there’s no doubt in my mind once he does, he’ll be able to open doors. He seems pretty smart, but in other cases he’s still trying to jam the square peg in the round hole.
Willie Nelson’s Fourth of July Picnic: Less than a month away. No, the boy is not going.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
June 4, 2008
Quick hits
The good: After much hand-wringing over moving the boy from day-care to an in-home sitter for the two hours of care we need each day, the day-care made a counteroffer that we couldn’t refuse. For his part, the boy suddenly is in love with day-care, smiling happily at me as I leave each day.
The bad: The boy broke his first dish on Monday and subsequently shed his first blood. Oh, it was all pretty innocent. He was “helping” me unload the dishwasher (after I had removed all the pointy things) because I thought it was a fairly harmless activity. But he managed to smash a small plate on the floor just out of determination, I guess.
About 5 minutes later, I noticed a small spot of blood on one of his toes. Now I don’t know if this is from the dish or from some bit of danger in the living room, but I’m expecting CPS to show up anytime now.
It was too small even for a Curious George band-aid and the boy never noticed. (Pretty tough.) But it’s always fun to call up Shannon and say: “OK, now everything is ALL RIGHT, but …”
The ugly: The coffee maker up and went yesterday. Its passing was confirmed (and loudly lamented) this morning. Cause of death, unknown. Alas, poor Mr. Coffee, I knew him well. Pray for me.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
June 2, 2008
Cyborg monkeys vs. Chuck Norris
It all began with the story about monkeys who could control prosthetic limbs with their thoughts.
Naturally, I thought about a future of cyborg terminator monkeys, because in a world of deadly tornadoes, $4-a-gallon gas, global warming and exponentially growing reality TV shows, I figure that’s just the next natural step.
And if we have cyborg terminator monkeys, what does that do to children’s literature? “Hand, Hand, Fingers, Aieeeee!” Or perhaps Curious George is curious as to why you haven’t fetched him that banana yet, puny human?
Meanwhile, my co-workers were discussing “Mannequin.” They said it was a natural progression from a Kim Cattrall and “Sex and the City” discussion, but I’m not so sure about them.
Yes, once upon a time, kids, there was but one HBO, and “Mannequin” was on every afternoon.
I never watched it, I swear, but I’m no stranger to bad movies.
For instance, I recently re-watched “The Octagon,” a movie I had fondly remembered from my youth.
Turns out, it is terrible. I mean, come on, the grand finish features Chuck Norris, dressed all in black, fighting a ninja at NIGHT. All you can see is the bobbing white head of Chuck Norris.
And for the first 80 minutes of this 100-minute flick, it’s nothing but bad dialogue.
How did I watch this as a 12-year-old? Man, I would kill for a long, lazy summer now when I had nothing better to do than watch this on TV.
I mean, it’s no “Missing in Action II,” as far as Chuck Norris movies go.
Did you know this prequel was filmed along with “Missing in Action” and was supposed to be the first movie, but turns out “Missing in Action” was better, so it was released first? (IMDB.com tells me this.)
So “Missing in Action II” was filmed prior to or about the same time as “Rambo: First Blood Part II.” It’s interesting to note the similarities between the two films. It’s as though “Rambo” is George Kennedy to “Missing in Action’s” Joe Don Baker.
Just thought I’d mention that.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
May 28, 2008
Summer photos No. 1
We went to visit the grandparents near Starrville over the holiday weekend. It was a good visit, and I’d detail it, but right now the boy is standing in his crib hollering because he figures that nodding off in the stroller for 10 minutes is all the nap he needs.
Rrrrrrgh.
My parents figured a little pool would be entertaining …
The boy was apprehensive about it, though.
Seriously. And the written instructions listed 5 rules for using the pool. The first of which was “for children 2 years or older” despite the fact that the brand name was “My First Summer.” And the last 2 rules both pointed out that you shouldn’t dive into about half a foot of water.
A little dirt on the face, I think he’s ready for summer.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
May 21, 2008
Babysitting blues
As a semi-stay-at-home dad, I’ve had a fondness for our daycare. The half-day option is a bit pricey, but I have the option of dropping the boy off as early as 1 p.m.
Typically, though, I’ve dropped him off about 3:30 p.m. and Shannon has picked him up about 5:30 p.m., leading us to refer to it as “baby happy hour.”
The boy comes in, has a few shots of milk, flirts with the ladies, and he’s out of there. Must be a good life.
I’ve liked the daycare because it offers socialization, helps build his immunity and offers an early education in diversity.
Shannon, who foots the bill for the daycare, hasn’t been quite as enamored with the place. And it does seem kind of wrong to pay for a half-day of daycare when often we only need 2-3 hours.
The place’s most recent price hike (let’s just the cost of part-time care jumped by the price of a decent night on the town with about half a week’s warning) forced us to realize that there was no way we could pay for two kids in daycare — and we weren’t going to let our daycare determine the size of our family.
So we started looking into in-home care. Not our home, but a stay-at-home mom looking to host a baby happy hour for a few extra bucks a day.
This is scary. We met with a few nice people, but all I could think about was all the horrible stories I’ve read during a 16-year career in the newspaper business. And I’ve read some pretty awful things.
The idea of entrusting your child to a person you just met for 30 minutes last week doesn’t come easy to someone like me.
But we’ve settled on a nice family in the next neighborhood to the east of us — they’re practically neighbors. They live in a nice house, have two well-behaved boys and volunteer at their church.
(She watches kids at the church. And she passed their background check. We talked with the church. I’m pretty paranoid.)
Basically, they’re more upstanding citizens than we are. And she’s reassured us over and over that she’s sure she wants to do this and won’t bail out two months in.
So why am I still nervous about this?
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
May 19, 2008
Mmmm, tatonka
So we hit the Farmer’s Market at Burger Center on Saturday morning to give the organic eating thing a better try.
We stocked up on organic squash, organic carrots, organic ‘shrooms, organic chicken, organic taters (or, perhaps, potatoes purchased at H-E-B and smeared with a little dirt for resale at twice the price … we’ll never know) and bison meat.
Yeah, it was buffalo burgers for Saturday night. They were pretty good. I’d say better than the last cheeseburger I had. At $7 a pound for ground meat, it’s not something we could afford every day, but for a Saturday-night-satisfy-your-craving-for-red-meat-thing, it’s better and cheaper than taking the family to Chili’s.
I suppose for most of the weekend, save breakfast, we ate organic foods. I don’t feel like Bugs Bunny or Patchouli Joe just yet, but I don’t feel bad either.
Shannon, going through the ads in the Sunday paper, did point out the World Market has organic beer, but I’m just not going there.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
May 14, 2008
Mugged
Among the stranger bits of advice I got when I revealed that Shannon was pregnant was this: “Get in shape.”
It seemed counterintuitive. This was my last chance to stay out late, sleep late, party like it was 2003. This was my last chance to spend money wildly at restaurants before I had to spend it on diapers.
Besides, I knew a woman carrying a 10-pound baby does not want to see her husband losing weight.
But it was good advice, though I didn’t follow it.
Why do I bring this up? Oh, you might have seen the new Jabba-esque mug shot over to your left. In retribution for my sins, I’m guessing, the officials here have decided to update the mug shots on all the blogs. Or, possibly, just mine. I haven’t checked yet.
I wasn’t happy about this. The previous mug shot was taken just as I was finishing my seventh month of Weight Watchers and three months after I had kicked off my train-for-a-triathlon program.
I was 212 pounds at the time and pretty happy about that. It was spring 2005.
To be fair, by the time we were telling people Shannon was pregnant in fall 2006, I weighed about 232 pounds.
The picture at left? Well, I guess if I’ve gone this far, I might as well admit it: 252 pounds, roughly.
It’s been my fault, I know. But it is hard to fit in exercise when you’re the stay-at-home dad of an infant. If the boy’s not sick, then I am. If we’re good, the weather’s bad. If the weather’s right, we haven’t gotten any sleep …
But Shannon’s determined (and when she gets that way, there’s no stopping her), to get us both in shape for Baby No. 2. She’s buying organic foods, cooking healthy, giving me the evil eye when I just want to have ONE cheeseburger, because hey it’s the WEEKEND…
It’s been several months now. I haven’t seen but one cheeseburger since February (it was good). I see Suzi’s sesame chicken plate in my sleep, but I have lost 10 pounds.
So, no, I won’t be vain. That’s me on the upper left.
But if I see the south side of 220 again, that updated mug shot is gonna be updated once more.
Permalink | Comments (3) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
May 12, 2008
Hot times at the Farm
“Let’s go spend the night at the Farm,” Shannon said, “before it gets too hot.”
Seemed like a good plan to me. So, after about 6 hours of sleep on Friday night, we got up, packed and headed south.
Traveling with an infant, I’ve learned, is not hard. You just take everything you own.
As we headed down I-35, I looked up at the gray skies and said, “I sure hope the sun comes out.”
You know where this is going. The Weather Channel says it was 96 degrees in Pleasanton on Saturday. The thermometer at the Farm said it was 104 degrees at its peak. I’m willing to bet it was somewhere in the middle of those two readings.
It was a good time. We ate fried chicken and macaroni salad, I drank beer in the afternoon, took a break when the heat got to me, then tried to get geared up again in the evening.
But I have to admit, just short of 37 years old, the heat is starting to get to me. It’s been a lifelong silent point of pride that I could tolerate hot weather just like the old-timers. But I’m starting to get conditioned, I guess.
Can’t do nothing about the years. But I need to get outside more. Gotta retrain these old bones.
The boy, having recovered from his illness, was plenty happy through the 26 hours we were away from home, even though we pretty much failed to bring along anything for him to entertain himself with.
Finally, once it got dark, I managed to cool off enough to enjoy the evening, which was capped by Uncle Jimmy bringing out his guitar and telling me I was going to sing “Pancho and Lefty.”
I do know all the words, I promise. But I was flustered enough by my failure to keep pace with the music that I faltered a time or two. Trust me when I say I ain’t much of a singer.
Here’s a few pictures…
No, that’s not where I slept. But I would if I didn’t fear it would come crashing down on me in the middle of the night.
We found a friend. But the boy just wasn’t impressed.
It was too hot for close-up photos: The boy lunges for the camera.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
May 9, 2008
Detonation
Shall we test the limits of this family blog?
It has been a long, long week in the Thomas household, but the boy is feeling better. His coughing is less frequent and more productive. Yesterday afternoon, he had a spell where he felt so good that he rolled around the carpet and giggled and demanded we roughhouse it a bit.
Of course that tired him out for the rest of the day, but it’s good to see the gigglemonster return.
But the real difficulty this week has been the diet. The boy’s liquid diet. All week he has refused to eat anything very solid because, well, it hurt his throat. Who can blame him?
So it’s been yogurt and liquidy baby foods and milk, milk, milk. A little pudding or sherbet when Shannon spoils him…
And, well, the diapers have shown the effects. It has been ugly. But yesterday, right after lunch, he was sitting in the highchair when I hear the ugly sound of a napalm poop bomb.
This is going to be ugly, I thought. I cleared the countertop. I got a pair of diapers (just in case). I pulled out about 100 wipes. I got the surgeon’s mask (not really, but I wish I had). Then I retrieved the boy.
Nothing on the highchair. But when I placed him on the counter … OH MY GOD. Let’s just say it had shot up through the top of the diaper all the way to his armpits.
I got the shorts off. Then the diaper. I wiped and wiped and wiped and wiped and, good Lord, there’s still more. When I got the bottom pretty clear (all the while trying to keep the boy from reaching down anywhere below his shoulders), I took a look at the shirt.
Basically, there was no way I could get this shirt off him without dragging the extremely soiled portion of it over his oversized head and basically getting whatnot everywhere.
No time to think, I grabbed a pair of kitchen scissors and cut the shirt right off of him.
After another 50 or so baby wipes, I took the boy straight to the bathtub. He, of course, thought this was the best thing ever. A bath in the middle of the day!
Convincing Shannon, via cell phone, that cutting the shirt off was necessary wasn’t as easy. But, later, as we swapped the boy in the parking lot, I think I was able to make my point by re-enacting the detonation.
Gotta get that boy back on some solid foods.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
May 7, 2008
Attitude? Teeth? No, sick!
The boy has been sick for awhile, though it took us some time to figure this out.
By last Thursday, Friday, he was refusing to eat solid foods, or anything he had to chew for that matter. Shannon had left for Dallas on Friday morning to visit her best friend and I had figured that the boy was finally rebelling against the baby food I was feeding him.
We battled it out for a day, him only eating certain things, me continuing to try and sneak some more substantive food in there. He was big on taking a mouthful and then spitting it out. It seemed the boy had an attitude and was testing me.
Via phone conference on Saturday afternoon, Shannon suggested he had some major teeth coming in and that was causing his lack of appetite. I couldn’t feel any teeth, but it seemed to make perfect sense. I thought back and realized that it was anything he had to chew that he was spitting out. Not just the chunky baby food that he tolerated, but even things I knew he liked (he would greedily reach for a cut-up grape, swish it around for a few moments, and then ptui! out it came).
That, combined with oceans of drool, seemed like a good answer.
By Sunday night, though, it seemed there was more to it than that. He was getting more sluggish, he was feeling a little hot. A complete lack of appetite for even soft foods by Monday morning indicated things weren’t good.
Late Monday afternoon he woke up from his nap with a 103-degree fever and a worrisome rasp / squeak when he tried to breathe. We, of course, called the doctor.
Tuesday morning: The doctor says he’s probably had a sore throat for about a week and it has peaked, causing a double ear infection to boot.
I know the boy’s demeanor doesn’t help — he doesn’t act sick until he’s really sick — but, man, I’m terrible at diagnosing illnesses.
I’ll diagnose the Spurs’ illness: They’re old.
Is this it? Is the mighty run over? Well, at least I have that Game 1 double-OT victory over the Suns to remember it by. A mighty last stand before being overtaken by the irrepressible onslaught of time.
Go Spurs, go!
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 29, 2008
Smatterings
The first two pages of Joe Nick Patoski’s Willie biography are excellent. Will keep you updated.
Haven’t kept up with the Roger Clemens thing because, man I just don’t care. But the new accusation that he began an affair with Mindy McCready when she was 15 years old puts the Clemens mess on a whole new level.
Most people probably don’t know who McCready is — but they would had she been a little more famous before her fall. Don’t know about her legal/domestic/drug problems? Read about them right here. Her decline would be Mike Tyson-esque if she had made it another step or two up the fame ladder.
If I ran the universe, the following rules would be in order:
Every apple I picked up would be crisp.
I would decide what happens to people convicted of harming a child. Cruel and unusual would be a starting point.
A Comfort Inn on the outskirts of Fredericksburg would never, ever cost more than, say $70 a night. For other people. For me, it would be free.
Cab rides home from bars would be free. Cab drivers would be paid by the government based on how friendly they were.
I would get an extra hour a day to use at my leisure. Let’s make it two.
Spent Saturday in Fredericksburg with Shannon while the boy had some quality time in San Antonio. Yes, it was our fifth anniversary (seems like just yesterday I was wearing that black tuxedo and sporting a $70 haircut).
We spent hours at Hondo’s on Main talking to our old friend VelAnne. We spent just as long at the Fredericksburg Brewing Co. talking to each other. But the day, of course, included a side trip to Luckenbach.
I haven’t been out there in awhile. What’s changed?
Here in Austin, all the old regulars are still at the Showdown, but the bar is going away.
Out in Luckenbach, the bar is still the same as it ever was. But the people I knew are gone.
I told Shannon it would’ve been nice to see someone we knew who wasn’t memorialized on the wall.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 28, 2008
The Willie archivist
If you ever wanted to hold a small plastic box with the remains of two (not just one, no sir) Willie Nelson joints enclosed, I’ve got just the place for you.
I spent last Thursday afternoon in quiet Willie Nelson research mode at the Southwestern Writers Collection in the Alkek Library on the campus of Texas State University.
Specifically, the Willie Nelson Collection — donated by Willie as well as Bill Wittliff and others. Much of the material in this collection is paperwork relating to the early Farm Aid concerts, but there’s enough cool stuff thrown in to make it worthwhile.
First, I had to find the place. I have to give UT props over Texas State for one thing: the Longhorns are pretty good at labeling buildings. But it only took two guesses to find the library, given the knowledge that the building I was looking for had at least seven floors.
As I walked across a common area that seemed to be a maze of stairs and an ADA lawsuit waiting to happen, I thought that in my jeans and maroon T-shirt, maybe I could even pass for a student.
Not a chance. As one courteous young fellow held open the library door, it was “after you, sir.”
The little office of the Southwestern Writers Collection was interesting enough to be sole reason for the visit: It was ringed by original posters including Jim Franklin’s posters for the opening of the Armadillo World Headquarters and Willie’s first Fourth Of July Picnic in Dripping Springs.
That was about as much information as I would find on the Picnic, though the files held enough promise for me to return for another round of research when I can find a free afternoon.
In addition to a few Willie personal items (roaches, sunglasses, belt buckle), there were official concert itineraries, correspondence to Willie and a treasure trove of concert memorabilia — mostly backstage passes and other official laminates.
The research provided at least one awkward moment: One box held a 1970s-era Playboy magazine with an article written by Larry L. King about the 1975 Picnic. Of course, I had to thumb through it to find the article — with a library (female) employee sitting at a desk about 5 feet away.
She immediately got up and ducked into a nearby room for a few moments. Coincidence? I don’t know. But I didn’t get a chance to look over and tell her I was only reading that Playboy for the article …
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 21, 2008
Bluebonnets
Shannon let me know that lack of bluebonnets was no excuse for failing to take the baby-in-the-bluebonnets picture this year.
But the only decent stands of bluebonnets I’ve seen were arms-length from passing traffic on MoPac Boulevard. I thought about hiking down the service road with the boy and letting Shannon drive by and snap photos …
But we settled for a small smattering of flowers in Mary Moore Searight Park.
What a difference a year makes.
Here’s a photo from last year. (No, I don’t know who that joker holding the boy is, but he sure needs a shave and a decent T-shirt.) It was probably a little early to take the boy out into the world. I’m sure his only thought at this point was “Bright light! Bright light!”
About a year later, and this is the official photo. (Yes, all the bluebonnets in the park can be seen in this frame.)
Happy spring, y’all.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 17, 2008
Breakfast Haiku
In the spirit of “how fast can I write a blog entry?”, I give you …
Breakfast Haiku
I can feed myself.
But Dad is even better.
Hey! I hate turkey!
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 15, 2008
Stuff for your Smurf
The boy is turning into a sweet potato.
If you’ve seen the photos and thought he had a yellow tint, it’s not just the photographer. He does have a yellow tint. And the doctor says it’s because he eats a lot of yellow vegetables.
It could be better: He could eat lots of peas, and we’d have a tiny little Incredible Hulk. It could be worse: He could eat lots of carrots, and we’d have a burnt-orange kid.
Too bad there’s no blue vegetables. We could have a Smurf.
So it’s been one year. I’ve seen other parents list the top baby items they couldn’t live without. And I don’t want to be left out. Besides the obvious (car seat, crib), here are the things that saved our sanity in the last year:
Top item: A clean, comfortable, cheerful and pleasant nursery. During the construction phase, I might have cussed the nursery. I might have thought that the painting and the pictures and the furniture was going overboard. But I sure don’t today. During the parent-freaks-out-over-first-month-of-first-child phase I slept in the recliner we had in there many times. The boy likes being in his room and that makes all the effort we put into it worth it many times over.
Runner-up: The video monitor system. It’s expensive. Two of my cousins teamed up to buy us the one we’ve used and I bless them heartily. Ours is a camera mounted over the crib (with cool night vision!) and a monitor that stays by my side. Boy making an odd noise? Click the button to see what he’s up to. Worth every cent.
Three: The baby mobile that goes on the crib. Soothing music. Hypnotizing motion. Freaky-looking jungle animals.
Four: Coffee. If you don’t have a taste for the cheap stuff, work on it. Because you will no longer be able to afford $4 cups when you have a kid.
Five: A good pediatrician. If you don’t like yours, keep searching. Nothing beats having confidence that your sick child will get prompt and careful attention.
Six: A digital camera. It’s the only way to satisfy a grandparents’ demand for photos.
Seven: Friends who will give you hand-me-down clothes. Sometimes it seems odd to put the soccer shirt on the boy, or the Cozumel T-shirt, when we’re not soccer fans and haven’t been to Cozumel. But it beats buying clothes he’s going to outgrow in three days. And he doesn’t mind what he wears / drools on / smears sweet potato on.
Eight: Exersaucer. A cure for constipation. A contraption that will let you eat a sandwich in peace. An immobilizer that will let you take a quick trip to the bathroom. Plus, our kid actually likes it.
Nine: A good stroller. We have a fleet of them: the expeditionary scout stroller, the all-terrain strike force stroller and the battle wagon. Overkill? Not if you like getting out of the house and saving the last shreds of your sanity.
Ten: Baby books. Lots of them. If they’re touchy-feely, have flashing lights, crinkly pages or pop-up action, even better. For a sweet little while in the early months, the boy would sit in my lap and listen to me read them and watch as I turned the pages. Now, he has to turn the pages, chew on them, fling them around. We’ve taken a backward step from literacy, but I think once he realizes that the toys he likes so much right now have an extra benefit, I think we’ll take a great leap forward.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 11, 2008
Showdown's over?
I have it on good authority that the Texas Showdown, beloved bar on the Drag, is going to close down within the next month or so.
They’ve been there, close to 26th and Guadalupe for more than 20 years, 14 of which I have been a loyal, if infrequent customer. Infrequent, save for a marvelous 2-year span when Shannon and I were true regulars.
There’s more blogging on this topic to come.
For now, let’s wrap up the Willie Nelson Fourth of July Picnic extravaganza:
What did I learn from my research?
I had thought that the early days of the Picnic were always multiple-day extravaganzas and that the Picnic hit its peak in 1980, attracting 100,000 or more to Willie’s Pedernales Country Club. Not true. There’ve only been 3 multi-day Picnics: 1974, 1976 and 2003. And the crowd of 80,000 in 1976 was the Picnic’s largest.
What were others most surprised by?
Most people I talked to who had read through my chronology were surprised to see the Picnic didn’t come to Luckenbach until 1995. They had assumed Luckenbach was tied to the early days of the Picnic. It’s not a bad assumption, given that Luckenbach had hosted large events in the ’70s and that the Waylon hit song “Luckenbach, Texas” came out in the middle of that decade. But it’s true, they didn’t get together until ‘95.
If you could change the Picnic, what would you do?
I would love to see a big-name female singer take the stage late in the evening. Paula Nelson and Pauline Reese are excellent, but I’d like to see the boys’ club broken up a bit more. Emmylou Harris has played the Picnic before and Rosanne Cash would be a natural fit, given the Outlaw offspring that pack the Picnic these days. But I’d love to see Lucinda Williams play the Picnic. Or maybe even … Loretta Lynn? And I’d put her on right after David Allan Coe. How’s that for contrast?
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 10, 2008
And then I wrote
Not only did Sunday mark the boy’s first birthday, it marked the publication of my long-researched history of Willie’s Fourth of July Picnics.
In my next blog, I’ll talk about my findings (so scientific), but let me take a moment here to pimp, er, push, uh, promote what I wrote.
If you want to read my beautiful and lengthy year-by-year online-only treatise on the entire history of the picnic: you can read it by clicking on this link.
If you want to read my story that appeared in the Statesman: you can read it by clicking on this link.
And, sigh, if you just want to look at the pictures (like everyone else) then click on this link right here.
And, if by some small miracle, you have documentation (ticket stub, concert poster, newspaper article) to prove what Willie was doing on the actual Fourth of July in 1977, 1982, 1988, 1989, 1994 or 2002, then send me an e-mail or comment.
The research continues …
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 9, 2008
Birthday visuals: A haiku
A few pictures from the first birthday festivities on Sunday:
(Click on the photos for a larger view)
Birthday boy
Birthday ribs
Birthday bib
Birthday cake
Birthday gift
You mean that’s it?
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 8, 2008
Birthday No. 1
We made it. And I’m sure glad we kept it a low-key affair. The boy’s first birthday took a lot out of us and he didn’t even know what was going on.
Here’s the birthday from his perspective:
Hey, everybody is singing to me. There sure are a lot of funny people here. Daddy smells like barbecue smoke. Hey, we get to sit outside. Mmmm. Rib bone. Mmm. Rib bone. Rib bone. Rib bone. Rib bone. Rib bone. Rib bone. Rib bone. What’s this? Cake, you say? What is this “frosting” between my fingers? Let’s give it a taste … sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Tears. Failed nap attempt No. 1. Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Presents! Crinkly paper! Other stuff! Crinkly paper! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Tears. Failed nap attempt No. 2. Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Sugar! Dinner. Milk. Sleeeeeeeeeeeeep.
It’s amazing how you can spend Saturday cleaning the house and Monday morning it looks like a federal disaster area. It’s amazing how you can spend Sunday afternoon just entertaining a one-year-old and feel like a zombie on Monday afternoon.
And we want to have another kid? I have to do this more than once a year?
And how is the 1-year-old? He’s thinking about walking. Talking? Well, he’s more into mumbling to himself.
(‘ll post some pictures later this week.)
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 4, 2008
Willie's Verizon Wireless Picnic
So the Fourth of July Picnic is returning to Texas. Good. Going to San Antone. Good. Set for the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater? Eh.
The music will be good. Always is. That’s why we go. But the picnic, year to year, is defined by its venue. And Selma’s Verizon Wireless Amphitheater is hardly inspiring.
Willie had a “family picnic” there in August 2001 and my best-ever girlfriend bought us tickets for my birthday (that’s why I married her).
Here’s what I remember about the show: Hayseed Dixie (the band that did the country covers of AC/DC songs) played. Dennis Quaid played, looking like he was taking it much too seriously. Willie played quite a while. And 20-ounce beers were $6.50 each.
I had fun. But it was no picnic.
So why have the Fourth of July Picnic there? Why was last year’s picnic in Washington at a corporate-owned amphitheater?
If you’ve studied the history of the picnic, you’ve noted that having a picnic in a rural field (Luckenbach, Carl’s Corner, Willie’s country club) presents quite a set of problems:
Nearby residents are often against it, sometimes enough to raise a legal challenge.
Facilities have to be provided. Most notably portable toilets. But there’s other logistical challenges. For example, in Luckenbach’s case, the town’s electrical system had to be upgraded before it could handle the demands that would be put on it. And, oh yeah, you have to build a stage, too.
You have parking and traffic issues to deal with. Then there’s the matter of insurance. And that’s just off the top of my head. There’s more. Much, much more.
But Willie has never really let any of that stand in his way. Yes, the picnic has been held in stadiums and amphitheaters, but it has made its legend as a party in a pasture.
The real change came in 1999, when the Texas Mass Gatherings Act was amended. Previously any mass gathering lasting 12 or more hours required a permit from the county. This is why during the Luckenbach picnics, the plug was pulled at the 12-hour mark, even if Willie hadn’t gotten very far into his set.
But the 1999 revision said that events lasting 5 or more hours needed a permit. This led to the 2000 picnic being held at Southpark Meadows (which was already zoned for such gatherings and didn’t require a permit) and, ultimately, the cancellation of the picnics in 2001 and 2002.
So why not get a permit? They did in 2002 for a picnic in Luckenbach, but when the Gillespie County judge made it clear that he wasn’t in favor of the picnic and he reserved the right to revoke the permit at any time, Willie deemed it was too big a financial risk to go ahead. And you can’t blame him: Why go through all the expense of setting everything up when the county judge could call it off the day before?
The picnic did receive a mass gathering permit in 2003 for a show at the new and natural Two River Canyon Amphitheater.
But I’d be willing to bet that’s the last time that happens. For the remaining days of the picnic, I’m guessing it’s stadiums and corporate-owned amphitheaters. There’s too many regulations these days. And shrinking crowds at the picnics make it riskier for promoters to be spending their money on bringing in portable toilets and building stages.
No more rural picnics? In retrospect, it makes that 5-year run at Luckenbach seem like it was pretty magical.
And, who knows? Willie isn’t known for doing what he’s supposed to do.
Maybe he’ll surprise us next year.
(And don’t get me wrong … I’ll be first in line outside the gates of the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater on the morning of July 4.)
Permalink | Comments (2) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
April 2, 2008
Before and After
We’re still learning how to read the kid when he’s sick. We did OK during Christmas when we skipped a trip to Wharton and later he threw up on Shannon, proving we made the right call.
Not so good on Easter…
He obviously didn’t feel very good. But he was trying to play along.
A week later, you can tell he’s back to his usual mischievous self.
O Lord of the Cheerios, I bow down before thee …
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 31, 2008
Chopped hair; groomed steak
The boy got his second unofficial haircut on Saturday, in preparation for this Sunday’s birthday festivities.
I made the mistake of telling the woman with the scissors to go fast, for he was squirmy.
No, there was no blood. But his haircut ended up looking like I cut it at home, complete with uneven bangs and obvious chop marks.
I didn’t notice until we got home and the hair dried a little, but I don’t mind so much. In a week, it’ll grow out a little and in the meantime it gives him a certain ill-kempt charm. Besides, he doesn’t mind.
I must remember: No sugar before haircuts.
This past Sunday was Shannon’s birthday and on Saturday night we went out to dinner. The big dinner. The triple-digit-steak-extravaganza. This time, it was III Forks there in the new retail district near City Hall.
We got there early for one round of drinks at the bar. I’ll just say that we spent more on that round of drinks and parking than we do on most meals. I had a beer (a $5 Fat Tire), Shannon had an appletini. Seriously, is there any reason for anyone to charge $12 for an appletini? Just because they can, I guess.
Shannon said it was good.
The meal? I’ll say it was real good. It gets my vote (for what it’s worth) over Ruth’s Chris and Sullivan’s.
Of course I’d pick the Lowake Steakhouse any day over any of ’em. (I’d link to their Web site, but they don’t have one — that’s a West Texas joint for you.)
Post-steak, we were headed for Little Woodrow’s in our ‘hood, when we detoured to the Horseshoe Lounge for several rounds of Lone Star. I would wager that most people who head for the ’Shoe from III Forks do it out of a sense of irony.
Us? Heck, we were back in our element. And enjoyed it mightily until a group of “ain’t-this-ironic” yuppies showed up. Then one guy, part of another group, wandered in and his first request was for an Amstel Light. The bartender just shook his head.
As we were leaving, Shannon said that bars should post their “Ironic Hours.”
Right there on the door: “You can only enjoy this bar in an ironic fashion after 11 p.m.”
That would be fine with me.
Permalink | Comments (5) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 28, 2008
We're just sick people
The child-raising tomes I have consulted said to expect about eight illnesses in the first year.
I have lost count. But I think we’ve just wrapped up No. 4 or No. 5. So, with a week to go, I sure as hell hope we don’t come close to eight.
We’ve all been sick this week, and nothing’s quite so fun as a house full of coughing, sniffling, hacking folks. Who gets to nap now? Who gets the couch? Who’s gonna watch the boy? Who’s going to fetch food? (Actually, that one was never much in question.)
Recent first: We’ve had the first diaper where I had to call Shannon over and ask her to take care of it. How bad was it? Beyond my powers of description.
We’re on the mend. If it doesn’t rain, we’re gonna look for bluebonnets in Mary Moore Searight Park this afternoon. Hopefully, the fresh air will agree with us.
The first birthday is coming up. We’ve agreed to make it a small affair: Just the grandparents and my sister.
I was surprised Shannon agreed to this. But we’ve got our reasons, I guess. Me, I’m thinking the house and yard is too wrecked to display to friends (we’ve given up trying to impress family) and, God forbid, we don’t need any more gifts than can be prevented. Shannon, I’m guessing, is just too tired to think about feeding and entertaining a crowd.
Did anybody else hold a small-scale first birthday? Or is it a necessary tradition to have everyone over for a fest that extends way past the honoree?
Finally got around to tending to my DVR list. “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” is a fine Western, I think. A little slow in some spots, but you gotta love any movie where the bad guys include Lee Marvin and Lee Van Cleef.
Permalink | Comments (4) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 25, 2008
Eggshausted
Well, Easter didn’t work out for us, eggsactly. The boy’s second Easter — he was born on Good Friday last year — wasn’t a lot more active than his first.
We had gone to Zilker Park on Saturday. We figured it would be a healthy family fun day, with a 1.5-mile walk along the hike-and-bike trail to Zilker, fun at the park, and a walk back, the boy napping happily in the stroller.
Turns out the boy isn’t quite ready for the park. He’d have had more fun, if not for getting a little too much afternoon sun on the walk to the park. He gamely made an effort, though. Playing in the sand, playing in the grass, sitting on my shoulders.
But by the time we took an ice cream break, it was apparent he’d had enough. I left them in the shade at Zilker while I hoofed it back to the car and came to pick them up.
On Sunday, we drove down to the Farm. The boy napped a little on the way down there and things started off well, but he quickly dissolved into tears. There would be no Easter egg hunting for him. He spent the afternoon safe in Mom’s arms. Maybe in a few days we’ll stage some pictures with the Easter basket.
I don’t know if he has the dayc are crud (I do) or if, God forbid, he has allergies (me, too) but it appears that Saturday did him in.
We’ll know better next time. It’s not in the Easter spirit to say so, but he’ll give them eggs hell next year, I’m sure.
And, that Zilker playground looks like paradise for kids. I can’t wait until the boy’s old enough to enjoy that.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 20, 2008
Mary Moore Searight adventures
The trail’s old hat, it’s time to check out the playground:
“Whoa, I can feel that Tender Chicken & Stars coming right back up …”
(Imagine Jacques Cousteau voice) “Look, LaRonde, it’s ze magnifzent rhomboid squid…”
“Yeah, they let me in the yard for an hour a day. Other than that, it’s total lockdown.”
“Must … find … milk …”
(Insert obligatory “like sands through an hourglass, so are the days of our lives” joke here.)
Sand. It’s what’s for dinner.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 18, 2008
I wanna be Yard Dog
“Hey, Dave. You’re always doing the most hipster thing in the world.”
What’s that, Bret?
“Complaining about how SXSW is too hipster. You need to come to the Yard Dog on Saturday so you can be not-hipster.”
Yes, the average age of Bret and I is spitting distance from 40, and he’s still trying to convince me to do things using arguments like these.
I guess the fact that I went only encourages him.
Oh, we didn’t really go to the Yard Dog — Shannon the boy and I dropped by for about an hour or so to have a couple of Pabst Blue Ribbons, talk with some friends and get a little fresh air before retreating.
Bret’s been telling me about the Yard Dog (not the art gallery on South Congress Avenue, but the free South by Southwest day party they have every year) for nearly as long as I’ve known him.
For more than a decade, it seems, I’ve heard tales of free beer and live music and pictured this blissful, idyllic setting in a courtyard in the sunshine. The reality? A crowd of people in an alley, with two Porta Potties on one side, a beer tent in the middle and a band in the middle.
We approached from the beer tent side (I have an instinct for such things), parked the stroller in a driveway and lured my friends to me with the promise of seeing my boy and the added bonus of easy access to beer. No way was I pushing that stroller through the crowd to where the band was.
The boy might’ve liked it, for all I know, but I wasn’t going to find out. No, he squiggled in my arms, or Shannon’s arms, or on my shoulders for a bit more than an hour, having reached that age where he’s too old to sit quietly in the stroller and too young to be trusted to stand by my side and tell me nonstop that he’s bored.
I’ve gotta admit, I just don’t have the passion for live music — or at least new live music — that I once had. And Yard Dog wasn’t exactly what I pictured. But my friends did a good job of explaining to me that SXSW wasn’t all hipsters and Sixth Street and and expensive wristbands and standing in line for an hour waiting for a 1 a.m. show.
No, there was plenty of free music, free beer and daytime fun to be had, which suits me a lot better. At the least, I got to hear some music in the background as I stood outside with a cold one in my hand and talked to old friends.
I could do that, I guess.
Permalink | | Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 13, 2008
PJ spud
A multiple-choice question:
When do I have to take the boy out of his pajamas to take him to the store?
A) Now. Right now.
B) When Shannon tells me to knock it off and dress the boy right.
C) When other people at H-E-B start making fun of us.
D) When the boy says “Dad! I have to get dressed!”
Permalink | Comments (4) | Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 10, 2008
You should miss Beverly's
Beverly’s, that seedy-looking biker bar on the southern end of South Congress, is gone. It appears that the 81 Club, the seedier-looking joint just a block north, has also closed its doors for good.
And with them, goes a part of Old Austin that will never come back.
Closing down an old bar is like cutting down an old tree. You can’t just replace ‘em. It takes time. And I’d bet more young saplings grow into old trees than new bars last long enough to build any sort of character.
The 81 Club, I’ve driven around it a couple times in the past week during prime bar-operating hours, and it’s been locked-up and deserted. It wouldn’t surprise me that it would close without a peep — I’ve only met one person who admits to ever going in there (besides the old guys that were in there the several times I went). I’m sad it’s gone, but it never had the charisma of its neighbor.
I was there on Beverly’s final day. I only knew of it because a friend had alerted me to John Kelso’s column about the end.
I had wanted for years to write the epitaph for Beverly’s in the Statesman. I had wanted to research the bar’s history, talk to some old-timers, spend some time in there, hear the stories and write a moving essay on why Austin should care that it was gone.
I had wanted to, but not bad enough, I guess. Being “Mr. Mom” for my 11-month-old son for most of each day didn’t leave me the time to invest in the project or the opportunity to research.
But I learned a few things. It’s only been Beverly’s since about 1980, but the building has been a bar since about the time Prohibition ended. Back when South Congress was the highway to San Antonio and that spot was a ways from town.
The place survived a massive fire in 1994 — its customers wouldn’t let it go.
When Willie Nelson and Kris Kristofferson needed a biker bar for their TV movie “A Pair of Aces,” they used Beverly’s. Deep in the Statesman archives we have a photo of Willie and Kris standing in front of the joint — I’ve seen it.
I even heard somewhere, though I can’t confirm it, that the bar was used in the closing scenes of the music video for “Pancho & Lefty.” If that’s true, it would mean that at one time, Willie, Merle Haggard and Townes Van Zandt were all in that room.
I thought about that while I was there about 5:30 on Sunday. I was there alone and I wasn’t there long. Half an hour and two Lone Stars and that was it. As much as I appreciated the history of the place, it wasn’t my place.
I had on my work boots, jeans and a T-shirt. But the time may be over when I could pass for just another blue-collar laborer, the way I did in so many bars in my 20s. I’ve grown soft and it’s not just in the waistline.
Nobody knew, I suppose, that I had a grocery list in my pocket that included “cheerios, granola bars.” Or that a Curious George stuffed monkey was sitting in the carseat in the back of my Xterra in the parking lot.
Still, nothing like an old bar. This one had been just about stripped: The bench out front was gone, the signs were gone, the interior was barren. I guess regulars were taking home keepsakes.
I was about to go when someone asked me if I wanted to buy a picture of the place. Sure. Why not? It’s a fuzzy computer print, but it shows Beverly’s in all its glory on a sunny afternoon.
I’ll file it away in my man room somewhere. Sometime, years from now, someone will see it and say “hey, what’s that place?”
I’ll be able to tell ‘em: It was a biker bar. A place that could be friendly. And a place that could be trouble, if you were looking for it.
It was a real bar. And I went there on its final day to say farewell.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 7, 2008
To Zzz or Not to Zzz
To sleep. Perchance to dream.
What would I dream about?
More sleep. The sleep deprivation thing is real. I’m not deprived, exactly. Just shorted.
I get off work most nights at about 12:20 a.m. I’m asleep within an hour, usually sooner. (I remember fondly the nights when I could come home and watch half of an old movie or read for a while).
By 7:30 a.m., the boy is awake. Shannon has already left for work, so he babbles happily at me through the baby monitor: “Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da?”
And the long day begins. He gets a nap about 11 a.m. (Right now, I’m blogging about sleep, and the boy is crawling around the crib, playing deejay on his musical mobile and refusing to sleep.)
The time change comes Sunday morning. Here’s hoping he doesn’t start getting up at 6:30 a.m. every day.
Seems like South by Southwest has sneaked up on me this year. Oh, I’m not going. Never have gone, except to a couple of film screenings. Used to, SXSW meant a ridiculous amount of overtime, as I would stay at work to 3 a.m. to help produce XL Xtra editions. Now that’s gone online, and I couldn’t stay up to 3 a.m. if I wanted to.
Here are some of the bands I’m not going to see this year: Ninjasonik, Awesome Cool Dudes, the Deadly Syndrome, the Ting Tings, Kreamy ‘Lectric Santa, the Sleepover Disaster, Ringo Deathstarr, the Yuppie Pricks (I have a feeling I’ll see ‘em despite myself), Genghis Tron, Kid Congo and the Pink Monkey Birds, and Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin.
Permalink | Comments (2) | Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 5, 2008
Mentone, the kingmaker
Oddities from last night’s Texas primary:
Barack Obama won in Loving County in a landslide, 7 votes to 5 over Hillary Clinton. There were no votes for any Republicans. If that does sound odd, consider that the 2000 Census listed just 67 residents for the far West Texas county, the least populous in the U.S. Its county seat, Mentone, hasn’t exactly been a boomtown since 2000. It is, however, the county’s only town.
It’s the kind of county where its Wikipedia entry lists Farm to Market Road 652 as one of its two “major highways.” Sadly, nobody made any campaign stops in Loving County.
On the Republican side were Hansford, Roberts and Armstrong counties in the Panhandle. There are no Democrats there — or at least none brave enough to vote.
Ron Paul got 17 percent of the vote in Travis County. Which is 2 percent better than he got in his home county. It was downhill from there.
Saw an advertisment on TV yesterday for theladders.com — and I was stunned. I’m not surprised that there is a Web site devoted to finding jobs that pay $100,000 or more. But I was surprised by their ad: “$100K+ jobs for $100K+ people.
The ad shows a professional-looking tennis match being overwhelmed by hundred of people rushing the court trying to join the game. The gist was that the game should be reserved for only those worthy of playing.
Of course, the ad shows lots of fat schlubs and a few slacker/hippies and an old person or two to boot, all looking pathetic. God knows we can’t allow those people in the country club. (Shrewdly, the commercial does not focus on any minorities as examples of non-$100K people.)
Only for $100K+ people. What extraordinary elitism. Right there on the Weather Channel. I had to check out their Web site. Turns out, you can’t even join their job search site unless you’re already making $75,000 a year (or are willing to lie about it, I guess).
Here’s part of their smarmy message for those not meeting their standards: “We’re sure you’ll hit the $100k+ level soon — which is why we’d like you to come back! When that happens, please come back and join the elite group of members of TheLadders.com.”
If you are a star-bellied Sneetch, then you can access their site for $30 a month — automatically renewed each month, of course.
Me? I know you’ll be shocked, but I guess I’m not “$100K+ people.”
I just watched the commercial again. Really? You can air that in America? On national TV?
Permalink | | Categories: By Dave Thomas
March 3, 2008
Six days on the road, more or less
A little overwhelmed two weeks ago, we opted to take a blogging break. Well, I did.
A lot has happened in two weeks:
Nobody is sick. Tired, yes. Out of shape? Sure. But we’ll settle for what we can get.
The boy has figured out that when I drop him off at daycare, he’s not going to see me for the rest of the day. This has turned a rather happy procedure — “Hey, look! It’s all my friends!” — into crying, hollering and grasping at my legs and feet.
Or maybe he figured it out long ago but it’s just now that he likes me well enough to not want to let go. Either way, it makes it a little tough on me, too.
We took a there-Saturday, back-Sunday trip to my parents’ house outside Tyler this past weekend. 10 hours on the road, $100 in gas and … one very, very good little boy. He can still turn a 4-hour-15-minute drive into a 5-hour trip, but he’s very good in the car seat, sitting still and playing happily for impossible stretches.
Heck, on the 5-hour drive back, I whined a lot more than the boy did.
The boy is starting to figure out the concept of cause and effect. He does this, and this other thing happens. He drops the ball into the toy and it comes out the other side. It’s fantastic fun to watch.
No talking quite yet. He still says “da-da” but will say it to Shannon, to the cat, to the wall, to himself.
Was gonna start off this post with some cute pictures, but he wasn’t very photogenic this morning …
“Hey Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad. Dad …”
“My monkey prophesies doom.”
Heisman trophy winner, 2027.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Categories: By Dave Thomas
February 19, 2008
B&W is offline
Bottlecaps & Wingnuts will return in early March. By then, hopefully, everyone will be healthy and a Willie Nelson article will be written.
See you after Texas Independence Day.
Permalink | | Categories: By Dave Thomas
February 14, 2008
We're watching you
Another long week, with the boy somewhere between healthy and ill, and me between sleepy and sleep-deprived.
A few notes:
If Bowflex wants my business so bad, why do they keep putting weirdos in their morning TV ads? First it was the ultra-buff 55-year-old grandmother, which is fine except the ads showed her cavorting poolside with 20-something guys. Ew. Then there’s the 50-year-old guy who is a “director of quality” (and he knows quality) and plays in a band at night and just seems like the type of guy who annoys the heck out of everyone within 100 yards.
Lately, we’ve got the creepy-eyed chipmunk guy who boasts that he “gave all his fat clothes to his fat friends.” What? What kind of guys are going to take another guy’s clothes? And if they did, I’ll be they’re a little miffed now.
This was going to be a joke about violence in entertainment and how the universe began with the big bang, but I couldn’t make it funny. Sorry.
CNN.com has its own categories: U.S. World. Politics. Health. Seems like they ought to have their own category for “Horrible Things Happen to Children.” Oh wait, they do. It’s called “Latest News.”
Seriously, check out CNN.com right now and I’ll bet their “Latest News” has at least one story about a child meeting a horrible end. I’m pretty sick of it. I’d like to declare March “Amnesty for Children on CNN.com Month.”
Remember, we’re watching you.
Permalink | | Categories: By Dave Thomas
February 11, 2008
Battlewagon: Upgrade
After all the hassle with Babies ‘R’ Us, when I finally managed to get my jogging stroller, I was pretty satisfied with it.
It’s a Jeep Overland Limited model, gray with (unfortunately) burnt orange highlights (I’m gonna have to put some Aggie stickers on it). It has the big tires and rolls over pretty much anything that I’m going to encounter.
I mean, the boy and I aren’t going to hike the Rockies or anything.
I have yet to actually jog with the stroller, but I’m working my way up to it.
The boy, for his part, seems to like it just fine. Though he already prefers the hike-and-bike trail to the park near our house. I guess it’s that the park near our house offers little to look at once he’s got his fill of winterized trees and dead grass.
Yes, a good jogging stroller. Now I just have to start jogging.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Categories: By Dave Thomas
February 8, 2008
The ExerSaucer and other AcipHex
Several weeks ago the Statesman ran this story about the lengths companies go to when it comes to naming drugs. You know, Viagra, Prozac … all those household names were just made up by someone.
The story quotes a guy as saying “Effient” is a bold name because it’s just a few letters a way from “efficient.” Of course, my first thought was that it was a few letters away from “effluent.” You can look it up right here.
The story also says companies spend up to half a million dollars to invent and test a new brand name.
Which is why I think someone’s gonna want their money back when it comes to AcipHex. When I first heard the commercial for this, I had my back turned to the TV, and it sounded remarkably like they were pronouncing two very common words.
You know, like “I have AcipHex, but I’m going to the proctologist on Tuesday.”
I don’t think it’s gonna make it.
Didn’t blog all week, but the boy and I have both been ill. He’s stayed home. I even stayed home on Thursday. We have spent a lot of time together. Got me thinking that I should blog on how we spend a typical day.
8 a.m. The boy wakes up. Usually happy. Me, not so much. I blearily change his diaper and go downstairs to make coffee and warm up some milk. So far, I’ve always managed to give him the milk and me the coffee.
8:30 a.m. We settle down to have our morning coffee/milk and watch “The New Detectives” on the Discovery Times channel. I want my boy to learn early important lessons such as, “if you have to kill someone, make sure to never leave your cigarette butt at the crime scene.”
I’m just kidding, of course. He’s more interested in his toys. But I’m learning.
9 a.m. It’s breakfast time. He gets a bowl of fruit mush and a bowl of oatmeal mush. I’m a grown-up, so I get to have brown sugar in my oatmeal mush.
9:30 a.m. The boy goes in the poop machine. Other parents might call it the ExerSaucer, but I know better. I can count the number of times on my well-washed fingers when I’ve removed him from the ExerSaucer and haven’t had to change his diaper. The trade-off is that the poop machine immobilizes and entertains him so I can use the restroom, put in my contacts, wander out and get the paper, etc.
10 a.m. Play time. Dr. Seuss called this “Hop on Pop.” Hundreds of toys and nothing is quite so interesting as the cookbooks in the kitchen, a plastic spoon or a pot lid to bang on the floor.
11 a.m. Nap time. The boy might sleep 30 minutes. Or it might be 2 hours. I can blog (as I’m doing now), take a shower, clean the house or stare blankly into space for an hour or so.
12:30 p.m. Lunch time. You wouldn’t believe the awful stuff I can convince him to eat. Lunch is a lot harder than breakfast, because I’m in more of a hurry and he’s in less of a hurry.
Post-lunch … depends generally on my work schedule. Sometimes we’re off in the new all-terrain jogging stroller for an hour. Sometimes we’re packing up and headed for daycare. Either way, he will spend 2-4 hours in daycare before Shannon picks him up at about 5:15 or so.
In fact, we don’t call it daycare. We call it baby happy hour. The boy shows up, he flirts with the girls, drinks some milk, crawls around, and he’s out of there.
By that time, I’m sweating headlines and misplaced commas at work. The boy? He’s got a warm meal at home, a warm bath and an early bedtime.
I like his schedule better.
Permalink | | Categories: By Dave Thomas
February 4, 2008
Goodbye, sniff, football
Only 208 days until football season.
(That would be Aug. 30, when Texas A&M plays Arkansas State. Your football season may begin a few days earlier or later.)
Or, in other words, the boy — just shy of 10 months now — will be a year and almost 5 months old when football returns to his life.
I didn’t know who to root for: the joyless, robotic Patriots, just so I could see something historic? Or the NFC East rival Giants with their 14-year-old expressionless QB and annoying defensive swagger, just so I could see Bill Belichick act like a sourpuss for a good reason?
Sourpuss? That’s the best word I can use … in this blog. After the game when one reporter interviewed Belichick outside the locker room, I actually felt bad for the reporter. What did he do to deserve that task?
I guess I decided to just root for a good game (which I got), but in the end I was a bit happy when the Giants took that 17-14 lead.
I remember when the Patriots were the good guys. When they were the scrappy underdogs. Coach Belichick has done his job too well, infusing a whole team with his crabapple persona. Heck, Belichick has perhaps even surpassed Jerry Jones as the most unlikable non-player in the NFL.
Of course, the Giants’ victory proves they are for real and a very real threat to whomp the Cowboys next year in one, two or three games.
I’ll take that chance.
Because football season’s over. And right now, it’s next season. Right now, the Cowboys have just as good a chance as anyone to win the Super Bowl.
Or, at least, a playoff game.
Permalink | | Categories: By Dave Thomas
February 1, 2008
This must be 'growing up'
At the beginning of his presidency, George Bush sent me a $300 check to stimulate the economy.
And I did. Specifically the economy of Blaine’s Pub in San Angelo, where I spent the vast majority of my check in short order. I might have done a little for the economy of the Packsaddle barbecue joint, too.
At the end of his presidency, George Bush is going to send me a $600 check ($500 if the Senate has its way) to stimulate the economy.
And I will. Specifically the economy of H-E-B (diapers, baby food), Target (baby supplies) and wherever I can buy a pair of new car seats.
Then again, maybe I’ll save it. Save it for the boy’s college fund.
Take that, economy!
Still, I kinda wish I could spend a little bit of it at some West Texas honky-tonk.
Kinda. Just a little.
Permalink | Comments (1) | Categories: By Dave Thomas
January 29, 2008
And the Oscar goes to ...
Let me try my hand at the new blogging photo software again.
“I will hear your request, on this, the day of my daughter’s wedding.”
“And then I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice bottle of milk.”
“Most impressive for a human, Mr. Anderson.”
“I see dead people.”
“There I was, there I was, there I was … IN the Congo. We had to eat bugs to survive…”
“At last, Tenzing! The summit!”
Permalink | Comments (1) | Categories: By Dave Thomas
January 28, 2008
Southpark Yuma 'R' Us
My last blog, on Southpark Meadows, hit a small chord with some folks. I remember going there for a Jimmy Buffett show in 1996. Aside from a couple of Willie Picnics, it was my first “big” show and I remember being taken aback by the guy selling (renting?) binoculars at the entrance.
As a music event, of course, the Buffett show was terrible. As a huge open-air party of people who were determined to have a good time … it was fantastic. I just happened to be wearing the giant parrot head and leading the conga line when he played “Margaritaville.” Remember that. I want it to be in my obituary.
I guess, as a parent, it’s handy to have the shopping complex right there, but it’d be really cool to have a Willie Picnic right down the street from my house.
(And no, despite having written an open letter to Endeavor Real Estate several years ago, asking them to put a bar in the Southpark Meadows shopping complex, I still have not been to the Little Woodrow’s there. Well, not really. We stopped by about a week ago, but there was some sort of televised fight going on, and it was wall-to-wall people in there. We didn’t stay.)
Speaking of picnics… Michael Corcoran already mentioned this on the Austin Music Source blog, but the rumor is out that this year’s Willie Fourth of July shindig will be in San Antonio.
I e-mailed Willie’s PR guru and asked if there was any official word, but she said “no.”
Some are excited about the concept of a picnic in the Alamodome. Now, there’s no official word at all on where a picnic would be held, but in the Alamodome wouldn’t be a picnic… it would just be an indoor concert.
Still, if the era of the outdoor picnic is over — and who could blame Willie? He turns 75 this year — it sure was a good run.
Saw “3:10 to Yuma” on Saturday night with Bullworker. The remake, with Christian Bale and Russell Crowe. Not bad, really. I don’t know if it was really a Western, so much as it was an action movie based on Western characters, but it was pretty entertaining.
Boy, Babies “R” Us has done little to boost my view of them. Over the past month, I went into the Sunset Valley location twice and called twice in order to try and secure a jogging stroller that they did not have in stock. Nobody there could tell me whether they still carried the stroller, whether they would get it in stock or anything useful at all.
I was reassured each time that if I left my phone number, I would get a call back from them with answers.
Never one call did I receive. I finally ordered the jogging stroller online, willing to pay the shipping charge for the convenience of not having to deal with the local folks again.
Customer service? Why should they have customer service? If you want baby stuff, it is the place to go. And they know it.
From now on, we’re buying baby stuff at Target.
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