Giving der Boot der Boot

Finally, riding into the sunset is my boot. After four or five weeks of remaining on the first level of the house, I can finally move back up to my room.  What did I do to keep my sanity, or lack of same? Well, a plethora  of opportunities presented themselves. Working on three models, repairing some of them, playing tetris, and finally getting to watch Star Trek TNG all the way through, were just a few of the activites I engaged in. 

I had to get outta' the house, so on weekends, I went out to breakfast with my folks, and then carte-blanche for me plus groceries for the family, all with a removable full-leg cast on my left foot. 

Most of the time I sat, slept, and ate in my leather recliner, the best birthday present ever bought me. Sure, it's secondhand, but it's buttery smooth  uptown. Certainly, it has wrinkles and tears, but it looks like it used to belong in a plush office or house. Most of the activities took place in that chair summed up my life for five weeks. And boy, was I happy to FINALLY ascend that staircase last week- minus the boot. 

New Sight

This special eye surgeon I'm seeing put a prism on the lens of my glasses. Now I'm not seeing double and with two eyes at last, in 19 mos! So excited! To quote an old Christian song: "You never know what you have until it's gone."

What we take for granted- the use of an arm, the sense of taste, being able to walk, to hear, even to be able to walk; "for every movement of the body, there should be a corosponding and equal feeling of sensation of same." - Never heard of it? Good. I just made it up. Go ahead and enjoy your day, but remember what life could be without the use of at least one of your faculties.

Cast Away

Well you knew it would have to happen... Again. Yeah, the steps reached out grabbed me for the second time in nine months. I knew it would happen again. Actually, it was my stupidity (as a result of total brain fog that day) that caused it.
 See, a pile of my youngest brother's clothes was in the middle of the right lane alongside the railing. When I had my stroke, I had a a PT session where I was taught to divide the stars into two lanes, and stick to the side that had the rail. Well, I did just that and a pile of clothes where in my way. So instead of scooting them out of way, I tried to go around while keeping my fingers on the rail. Muy Problemo.  Result --> Same fall (even though it is 4 or 5 steps up this time), severly strained tendons in my left foot, bruises up half my leg, and severe swelling in said foot.
The foot doctor (nice guy bty) put me in a boot. You know, like cowbows used to wear, except it is made up a firm felt-like substance with a foam bottom that resembles an astronaut's shoe tread when they walked on the moon. I hear it will take six months for it to heal properly. (Gibb's slap) 4 weeks x 6 months = 24 weeks. Oy Vey. Only I could do this to myself.

D.O.A

On a very bad day, Sara, my beagle, crept away to die. She'd been sick for 13 months but early this afternoon, her heart rate crept up to was 2/2 time for you music lovers out there. I called my dad and suggested that we go ahead and euthanize her asap. She was struggling to breathe so much, well, you can use your imaginations.

Anyway, we took her to the pet hospital but she arrived what they call "DOA" Dead On Arrival. The poor girl was already between worlds. After her final send off, we had a paw print made and the ashes promised to me. That just leaves us with one dog, Matt's. Angel. Part chihuahua, part whippet and part jackrabbit. She's Matt's dog, and he's moving out in two years. So for now, we mourn for Sara, but we know she's in a better place for all dogs go to Heaven.

Betrayed

103 years. That's how long the Boy Scouts of America fought back against the homosexuals and the like especially during this past year. Naturally, having the kind of the officers at BSA headquarters in Dallas, this generation of leaders, or lack thereof made from grass that blows whatever the wind decides to.

What about all the protests and speakers? The people spoke loud and clear: "Do Not Let In  Homosexuals!" Clearly, the committee didn't listen to the masses.  As a result of this vote, Boy Scouts is going the way of Girl Scouts: You never hear from them 'til it's cookie time, or in the case of the Boy Scouts, popcorn time

I spent my adolescence and my early twenties getting my Eagle award and spending time in two Venture Crews. That's all gone now. As you might have figured, I was brought up to be a Christian, straight young man, and I come from a family that's not afraid to call a spade a  spade. 

 It's not that I hate homosexuals, it's just that I yearn for them to be something more, better even. What Christ designed us to be like; Man and Woman; Boy and Girl; it's just not natural for the same gender to love each other outside of friendly love for them. I guess my expectations were too high, maybe, but not too late.

Hopefully the BSA will see the error of it's ways before they try to vote the adult leaders of the rainbow coalition in. Time will tell.

Rifles, Ramrods and Sore Feet

  I've been waiting on this for a long time for the gun show to hit Houston a few weeks ago, and now, just like steam, it's come and gone. 

 You could stand at one end of the room and not see the other because of the curve of the earth, and that's just how we South westerner's like it. God, guns, and freedom, and not necessarily in that order.

   There were three doors into the building and we were parked across the street entrance F on the very top of the parking garage, so we had plenty of walking to do once the fun was over that night.

  When I finally got inside, we had to stop and register, show our NRA member cards and get special badges showing we were part of said group.

   Next, I nearly fell into the Red Jacket table. You know Red Jacket, from the tv series "Sons of Guns?" I didn't recognize anyone there at first, but then Joe showed up. Remember Joe; 'lead engineer,' soft-spoken, and that red, weird goatee? Yeah, that Joe Meaux. Well he was in and out of that booth 15 seconds or less. By the time I looked from putting my phone into camera mode, he was gone and I never saw him again.

   After that, it was merely a feat to get up and down all those aisles,  distance wise. My dad said that the crowd had really thinned out since he had been there that morning. 

   The second aisle had guns, but I had not pulled my head down out of the clouds; and yes, the lights did seem brighter. My "Visions of Grandeur" were sudden and non-premeditated. I could have turned to God and said: "Howdy, neighbor!"  It was so typical that what brought me back to earth again was, you guessed it, a stock car.Tony Stewart # 14 Bass Pro Shops Toyota to be exact, and other trucks I had only seen in books! That was only at the end of aisle two. I then went up as a balloon again, and didn't come down 'till halfway through the exhibits.

   See, ever since last year in St. Louis, they've planned for Houston to host the annual  NRA gun show in 2013. When I found out about it through the mail, the ad never left my walker, and when the April edition of American Rifleman showed up, well, you know why that was MIA from the collection.

   Every company that makes guns and personal defenses were there, and still there were protesters, well, at least a few of them. At the gunstocks.com booth, Joe Nemechek's # 87 Nationwide Toyota of the same sponsor was there. I did what I had done to Smoke's Toyota, take a barrage of pictures of it. I also stopped at a few rifle and pistol booths of note, well  at least to they were to me. I eventually found a rifle company that let me play with one of their samples. Rifles have not changed very much since the 19th century, so they still have the hand-levers. I believe that I had not shot such a rifle in my life. All I knew is what I learned  from tv. The older the movie, the better the information. 

   We approached halfway through the aisle; going up, going down, down, and up again, seeing history's answer to the gun over the centuries, seeking perfection over the countless decades. My legs and feet were beginning to hurt. They had not walked this far in almost six months. My dad saw I was hanging back due to knee, leg, and foot pain, so he told me to take five while he got some water from the local built-in concession stand. This happened twice.

   All in all, we finished our tour a little after five pm and got ready to see for a "discussion"  or so I thought, with radio host, Glenn Beck. We spent near an hour over dinner we got from a concession stand and arrived  at the "gathering" early. I thought it was a small group but boy was I surprised when there was a live band and over 1000 people there, give or take. They started off with a band from guess where--that's right, Tulsa. One or two were from Texas and my old  stomping grounds. They played old '60's hits in a brand new way, electric guitar. The show was late in starting for a time, and an hours' worth of improv was required. And, when everything was finally already, the entire  NRA staff showed up, one or two at a time, and we're  not talking cookie  crumbs here. This was the yearly staff meeting, which meant serious business.  After the intro to the president, his wife and all the officers with their spouses, the keynote speakers showed up. One did a stand-up comedy routine with voices of U.S.  political presidential figures, well, he might have had Bill's voice too good. Wonder where they were stashing Hillary?

   And then who should show up but Glenn Beck. Yeah, you put together your speeches 20 minutes before curtain. A lot of it's improv, and very good at that!  He started off with Heston's " You'll get my guns out of my cold, dead, hands," and finished by turning it around and saying something like: " Our cold, dead, hands won't win this... But rather a cause to use our hands..." and finally, "We cannot be the generation that loses mankind's freedom." OIBeck occasionally put on some special gloves, and showed  off a rifle that had some mileage on it, say from the Revolutionary War? 

  That made my night. The guy whose books I was reading really did exist in the flesh. Yep, the whole day had been the perfect evening.

I saw this all live

http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=XERjumXj1lM

Home

    Home is where the heart is.

    I was born in Tulsa, and yet, for the ten years my grandparents were alive, there was a lot of traveling back and forth up and down I-35, and I passed Moore every..single..time. I used to look down upon the football field on which my father used to play for school. His mother, my grandma, was a cafeteria worker at the same school  now all probably destroyed. 5/20/13, 5/3/99:  EF-5, EF-4, plus another one all in the span of 14 years. It's not for the faint of heart.

     I lived in Oklahoma  for four years, and then we moved to Austin. So why do I care? It's something that's inside you, calling you back, especially if you know the area in question. I even know what the Moore water tower looks like, or rather looked like if the tornado didn't get it. It'll  be 10 years this November since my grandpa died and we regularly went to go see him, but we didn't Moore a second thought. It was simply another exit that had numbers for street names. We had to go through Moore and OKC to get Westbound on I-40 for Yukon.  NE of OKC was Tulsa. All of the boys were born there, my father and mother's dream home was there.

    I went up there for a football game about two falls ago, and the scenery was just as it should have been, but now...

    The people up there aren't stupid, they know what's going to happen. Their jobs force them to live in "Tornado Alley, " so they suck it up and rebuild, and that's why I love the Sooner State.

Let's Do the Car Door Shuffle

Cars. Love em or hate 'em they do help up us get around. Now being shuffled around? Um, yeah. Here's what I mean: We've got six, count 'em, six, VEE-hicles. Two each to my brothers and two to my parents. Let's start with the brother that own the fancy, schmancy Explorer and has a half interest in the Dodge to boot. He's always changing car titles (If we let him) and going to Austin to see his buddies. One thing, though: with all the medical equipment (Two walkers) we have to lug around with us, he gets mean. I guess it's all that customization. In short, Every moment out is pure gold to my mother and I. Dad and Dan share a half interest in the Dodge, last time I checked. The truck was fully dad's, but Dan needed it for some reason, so they went halvsies on the ownership.That, plus more ownership changes from day to day it feels like. My youngest brother drives a nondescript Mustang and a Ford Explorer. He's a down-to-business guy. He's graciously loaned us the use of said Explorer, save dad now has to use it to get back a forth from work each day instead of the truck, which he normally takes. So, now we come to the d3 Jeep. (Dead, died, and decreased) What to do. Part it out, fix it up and sell it, or sell it outright. Our Explorer's up in Austin being repaired by of Daniel's buddies. Still working for the following people: Mom/Dad: The Explorer* Dan: Explorer Matt: Mustang, Explorer * In the shop If you take away the Explorer that's being repaired, have dad take Matt's Explorer each of them have 1 car each, and none for us...yet. Oh, for That new car smell IT MAKES THOSE ALL THOSE CAR LOTS LOOK A LOT LESS ANNOYING

By the Numbers

I screwed up... again. Well, let me start at the beginning. The day before, I had leant over to pick up some wrappers that had fallen out of my trashcan. Well, I apparently I used my knees too much because next thing I hear on my down, was a slight crack in left knee cap. It was "A new experience in pain,"* as it 'twere. I think approaching the top five in my life! Yep, you could say it hurt a little. It landed me in my recliner with a frozen bag of peas on my knee. That was three days ago. Fast forward to the yesterday morning. As I washing my face in the guest restroom, somehow I took out 1/2 the toilet paper hanger, and on my out, I broke the toilet... again! It seemed that I was 'Wreck It Ben,'^ ...literally! Somehow, I landed on the floor, drawers down for the world to see, and then my mom tries to pull me up. Me. A literal "One-eyed fat man."** Gotta love those moms. They'll attempt the impossible for their kids. My little brother was there, and he tried but failed. My knee didn't help any. In fact, it was all I could do to stop from screaming. So they decided, against my will mind you, to call 911. Who knew they had a non-emergency line? So no sirens, but that big, red, truck outside with a diesel engine, and your home draws the neighbors, just gets, oh I'd say, a tad embarrassing if there's no fire to put out. Ah well, such is the life of superstars and stroke patients although more patience is needed for the latter. * M*A*S*H - S.1/ Ep.22 ^ Wreck It Ralph ** True Grit (1969)