Parenting on the fly.
Such are the facts of participating in the life of a teenage boy.
Grant: "Oh, hey; I might be a little late getting home tomorrow. I have a journalism UIL competition tomorrow.
Parent: OK. That sounds fine - but what is this UIL Journalism Tournament of which you speak?
As it turns out, we get a text message late afternoon: I should b home around 8 should I pu dinner or do u want 2 wait for me to get home?
I respond go have dinner with ur mates.
We learn more about this event once Grant walks through the door (at 9:15) with a medal around his neck. "So, looks like you did something good, have seat and tell us about it."
Mr. Forrester (Garland High Newspaper/Journalism teacher) mentioned the UIL competition the week before Spring Break, two weeks ago, and had those interested sign up. Once the students returned to the classroom on Monday, Mr. Forrester told them to be ready for the tournament this Thursday. Grant had signed up for competition in Headline Writing and Feature Story categories. Many students signed up, but we were told Mr. Forrester only selected the "competent ones" to compete.
Grant finished in second place with his composition and writing of a feature story under a deadline. He was given a few facts and quotes about a school gym that had been named after a Klu Klux Klan member - all fictional. His feature story using the given facts and quotes earned a second place finish among 7 district schools and garnered him the opportunity to move on to regionals to be held at Baylor University in a couple of weeks. Grant will be the first journalism participant to represent Garland High at the UIL Regional level in many many years, a credit to his talents.
We have on occasionly glimpsed in Grant, innate skills in his writing compositions that are well balanced and well developed. He has a flair for poetry too, but that has remained latent since childhood. His mother believes it is his heritage as an Irish bard, notably taking after his Geat Grandfather Mott who was a celebrated contributor to the Miles City, Montana paper with a witty poem dealing with the municipal sewage lagoon and also known to be a fine practioner of eloquent cursing (not to be confused at all with profanity and ubiquitous tetragrams). I am not ready to discount the Suneson side yet, as the first born Suneson males have a history of practised writing that extends for four generations. Whatever the source or sources, we are proud of his accomplishment and it bodes well, if not confirms, his vocation as journalsit and broadcaster at the top rated Mizzou "J-School" come this Fall. Huzzah!
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Good Neighbors
Good Fences
Make Good Neighbors
The New England Poet, Robert Frost writes of mending the stonewall between his apple orchard and his neighbors pines; where Frost and the neighbor labor to rebuild the wall each Spring, and his neighbor tells him, "Good fences make good neighbors".
We here at the Sunstone Tortoise Ranch do not need to separate apples and pines, but we do need to separate our two male Desert Tortoises now that we have doubled our herd. We're now runnin' two head of torts out on our pasture, which is not conducive to a climate of good neighborliness among these otherwise gentle vegetarians. The tort brothers, Chomper and Isaac, jousted one another until October in a effort to flip their rival, they only quit ramming one another because of the cool Autumn air that squelched their ardor for territorial fighting as they slipped into hibernation in the breakfast nook. With warm Spring days, the brothers are up and have been returned to the back yard, ready to graze upon golden dandelions and fend off any and all interlopers. This year, my tort ranching contrivance is to put up an 18-inch wire barrier (decorative garden fence from Lowe's Hardware) stretched across the yard and stake it securely into the lawn with wooden stakes interwoven through the wire mesh. Isaac was placed in the back-forty while Chomper was penned in the fore-side lawn pasture. The first day, they found one another and rushed the fence, each on his own side, and signaled a challenge by vigorously bobbing their heads at their respective rivals. After throwing out reptile fightin' words, they tried to scale the fence to get at one another, but the stakes seem to hold the barrier in place. After much sound and fury (OK, they don't really make much sound), but they did seem furious; I noticed that it was a Mexican stand-off and separated the beasts to their respective corners of the yard.
My observations over the next two days was that they no longer seemed to be rushing the fence to square off against each other anymore. Coincidence? Maybe. But I am now working on the theory that dandelions when eaten (or inhaled) may contain natural mellowing agents, akin the THC in Cannabis. The tort dudes are not only now mellow yellow (quite right!); but under circumstance yet to be fully explained, Chomper ended up the other day in Isaac's back-forty and neither one of them was found flipped on the back of his shell after a day together. Then, yesterday and today, Isaac was (apparently) mistakenly moved into Chomper's area, along with Chomper, and no fisticuffs, gular horn ramming broke out - not even a hockey game. BFF!
Perhaps dandelions could be employed to solve conflicts in North Africa and the Middle East, but until then, believe:
Good Fences
Make Good Neighbors
and keep that fence in good repair.
Good Cookies
Make Good Neighbors
The house next door went on the market in mid-January and was sold in 3 or 4 weeks. The fourth family to own the house moved in two weeks ago. With the tortoises pacified with dandelions in the backyard, I beat my spears into plowshares and turned my fence-building skills into cookie baking sweet skills. Sixteen chocolate chip cookies were loaded onto a plate and I crossed the lawn to say "welcome to the neighborhood" with a plate of warm confections. The Scotts have two sons and are anticipating adopting a baby girl from China this Summer, so they wanted to expand to a 4 BR home. I was told several of the other neighbors had already introduced themselves, but not with such edible hospitality.
Some years back, Sue and I tried the same welcoming format for new neighbors across the street. When they came to the door we said "welcome to the neighborhood" and then offered a plate of cookies. The young woman at the door prodded the plate of treats with her finger and then shouted something in Hindi to the back of the house, and then scoured at us and said "we really don't like these kinds", and then shut the door on us. Robert Frost's poem says that "something there is that doesn't like a wall", maybe so, but until our brief encounter with our cross-street neighbors, I did not think there was someone who did not like fresh baked cookies.
I am thinking, maybe I could concoct a recipe baked with dandelion mellowing agents in the ingredients and ship them to the border of India and Pakistan as well. World peace begins on our block - or maybe that is just whirled peas I am thinking of.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Isaac Rising
With only a haze of light green showing on the bare branches, I can clearly see the robins hopping from limb to limb chirping, chattering and warbling to their intended mates. As sure as the song of the robins is a sign of Spring; I too thoroughly enjoy the vernal appearance of our Desert Tortoises as a welcome sign of Spring.Stepping into the kitchen to make my breakfast, my blinking eyes meet the all the more groggy and blinking eyes of Isaac who has pushed himself out from his winter's sleep beneath the secretary in our breakfast nook to a mid-floor spot in the kitchen.
I greet him, "Ah, Good morning Isaac! Did you have a good hibernation?" With lengthening days and the forecast for mild daylight temperatures, I place him outside in a backyard sunbeam and set him before a patch of freshly sprouted dandelions. Isaac sits contemplatively for a little while, taking in sunbeam energy and slowly letting his systems warm up and slip into gear, much as an old man groans and creaks out of bed and slumps into a dinning room chair awaiting his coffee to finish brewing. Isaac is grateful that I have placed him close to a sweet feast of yellow flowers and after equilibrating with his outdoor environment, he begins to graze upon the dandelion breakfast. With still cold nights, I retrieve Isaac from the yard in the late afternoon and bring indoors for the night.
Isaac has awaken from winter's hibernation before his brother Chomper, who remains under the secretary in the coveted kitchen corner, still catching some of those reptilian Z's. Several days after Isaac has risen to the new season, we fetch Chomper from his corner and plant him in the grass as well. Chomper's legs look skinny and dangle limply from beneath his shell as he is carried to a dandelion patch beside the magnolia. He too catches his own solar energy and slowly recharges his senses.
But soon enough, with the dark winter in the past, Chomper begins to lumber forward like a Star Wars intergalactic transport heading for some bright cluster of dandelions like warm stars in a universe of green grass. Dropping his bulk in the midst of a particularly fine patch of dandelions, he refuels before seeking a safe port beneath the garden bench.
The Desert Tortoise - the First Reptile of Spring!
It Warms my heart.
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| Chomper Feasts on Dandelion Buffet |
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Spring is Busting Out
It is understandable why the ancients saw Spring as a clash of the personalities between gods and goddesses, the underworld and overworld, a contrast of birth and death.
We moderns now see Spring as a clash of meteorological systems, arctic cold fronts and and warm moisture being drawn to north Texas from the gulf of Mexico - but a clash never-the-less. February began by bringing to us snow and ice, closing the institutions of education for "snow days" five times (a clash of ignorance and education, or a clash of student safety and state mandates?) only to have the very same month end with a couple of days around 80 (F) as the south winds pushed warm air north.
Mild days with a south breeze and pleasant sunshine last only too briefly here in North Texas, as soon it will be months of 95 and humid. The flora is sometimes fooled by the warm January days, only to have their tender greens iced quickly after they began to probe the earth's surface for sunlight. But all the plants here seemed to have dealt well with the clashing warm and cold fronts washing over them. To our delight, the daffodils add cheer to the front of the house, a few fragrant hyacinths showed themselves in the backyard planter boxes, while on the north side of the house the Saucer Magnolia is a flurry of heliotropes, lavenders and purples grading to white and the peach blossoms have now begun a showy display of pink petals that make us all dream of peach cobbler and peach pies and probabley a few warm, juicy pickings right off the tree (who could resist?) come late June and early July.
We moderns now see Spring as a clash of meteorological systems, arctic cold fronts and and warm moisture being drawn to north Texas from the gulf of Mexico - but a clash never-the-less. February began by bringing to us snow and ice, closing the institutions of education for "snow days" five times (a clash of ignorance and education, or a clash of student safety and state mandates?) only to have the very same month end with a couple of days around 80 (F) as the south winds pushed warm air north.
Mild days with a south breeze and pleasant sunshine last only too briefly here in North Texas, as soon it will be months of 95 and humid. The flora is sometimes fooled by the warm January days, only to have their tender greens iced quickly after they began to probe the earth's surface for sunlight. But all the plants here seemed to have dealt well with the clashing warm and cold fronts washing over them. To our delight, the daffodils add cheer to the front of the house, a few fragrant hyacinths showed themselves in the backyard planter boxes, while on the north side of the house the Saucer Magnolia is a flurry of heliotropes, lavenders and purples grading to white and the peach blossoms have now begun a showy display of pink petals that make us all dream of peach cobbler and peach pies and probabley a few warm, juicy pickings right off the tree (who could resist?) come late June and early July.
 |
| Cheery Daffodils greet all guest at our Front Door |
 |
| Saucer Magnolia Sunlit Blooms reaching into the Late Afternoon March Sky |
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Triumph!
On our sixth visit to a DPS office in two weeks, Grant was finally through the bureaucracy and ready for his Road Test
TRIUMPH
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| Testing Vehicle Signals and Reviewing Insurance Ready for the Road Test |
 |
| Front of the line Application Paperwork is in Order ROAD TEST PASSED A Licensed Driver by the State of Texas |
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Fat Tuesday, Fat Chance
Today it is Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday.
Tomorrow it is Ash Wednesday on the liturgical calendar.
"Fat Tuesday" a day devoted to reveling in carnal pleasures of the drink and of the flesh, and I might say a day devoted to revealing the consequences of a small god and impoverished theology -- but I digress; today was to be the day Grant was granted his driver's license. Fat Tuesday? Fat Chance!
While the dizzy throngs in New Orleans sing out to the ladies, "Show me your tits!", and then toss Mardi Gras beads approvingly their way. Our experience at the Department of Public Safety's Drivers License Office was far from revelatory. At the DPS the ladies sing out, "Show me your forms!", "Show me your permit!", "Show me the money". "Now have a seat", and sling a receipt our way.
We had a seat, a nice long sit while watching the keno board in a room stuffed with 82 of our intensely interested fellow citizens; "Now serving 496 at Station 15". Finally, Grant's number was called, "519 at Station 9!" At last. This was our 5th trip to the DPS in the last 2 weeks trying to get his license. I am not making this up!
The first 2 trips to the Dallas DPS, the office was closed due to water damage, the sign said reopening on Feb 28. I called that office, the Austin DPS HQ and other Dallas County regional offices trying to verify that they were indeed open on the 28th. Not in any one of the 3 locations I called did an employee answer the phone, nor was there a recorded message device that could confirm or deny that the DPS was in business. We arrived, documents in order, on the 28th. CLOSED - Open onFeb 28th March 7.
Grant got out of school at 2:30 on March 7 and we hustled to the DPS, barely obeying all traffic laws and posted speed limits, and glory hallelujah, find the office open on our 3rd trip there. After a 25 minute wait in line, Grant presents his forms to the information lady, stating his business is to apply for a first time license.
"Oh golly, it is 3:17, I am just not sure they are going to do any more road test today. Let me go see."
She disappears behind the gray wall for 2 or 3 minutes. I could be wrong - but I am not. This is what I know was going on behind the gray wall:
"Benny, you wanna take another one on the road today?"
"Geeze Louise! You think I wanna take anymore of those nervously little chones-wetting kids out on the road? Look, I think by the time I finish this cup of coffee I can score my 40th win in a row, a personal best at this here solitaire game. Look, we all get off in an hour forty-five, I gotta tell ya, I am done for the day!"
She returns to the counter and gives us the bad news, "We aren't giving anymore road test today. But you can come back earlier tomorrow."
"Earlier? He doesn't get out of school until 2:30."
"Well in that case have somebody come get in line, using his permit number and hold a place for him 'til he gets here. Or, you can go to the Garland office - they have road tests 'til 4."
We get to the Garland office, and as we are waiting in line, she puts out a sign:
So close today. Grant is at the counter, I have paid the license fee, he has had his photo taken and then while they are examining his education and driving log sheets, a woman with asphalt in her soul whispers to our processing lady, "No more tests today". Our processing lady advocates for us, pleading our case that we are in the middle of completing the process AND we were here yesterday as well. But rules are rules and fair is fair - we are state employees and besides it will be 4 o'clock in 12 minutes and after is is 4, it will be 5 and at 5 we are CLOSED.
We are told come back tomorrow and just get right into that written testing line and maybe you'll get through in time.
God forgive me, after 5 trips to the DPS - and we're still not done (!)
I am loosing my religion of grace and a sovereign God.
I can use a bit of Fat Tuesday debauchery.
Lets just throw away the cars, the bombs and wars and get nekid with a glass of root beer and bourbon - naw, just the bourbon.
What do I want to give up for Lent?
For Lent, I would like to give up having to go back to the DPS bureaucracy
Maybe with a bit o' luck o' the Irish, Grant will get his license on Saint Patrick's Day.
The sixth times a charm. Right?
Tomorrow it is Ash Wednesday on the liturgical calendar.
"Fat Tuesday" a day devoted to reveling in carnal pleasures of the drink and of the flesh, and I might say a day devoted to revealing the consequences of a small god and impoverished theology -- but I digress; today was to be the day Grant was granted his driver's license. Fat Tuesday? Fat Chance!
While the dizzy throngs in New Orleans sing out to the ladies, "Show me your tits!", and then toss Mardi Gras beads approvingly their way. Our experience at the Department of Public Safety's Drivers License Office was far from revelatory. At the DPS the ladies sing out, "Show me your forms!", "Show me your permit!", "Show me the money". "Now have a seat", and sling a receipt our way.
We had a seat, a nice long sit while watching the keno board in a room stuffed with 82 of our intensely interested fellow citizens; "Now serving 496 at Station 15". Finally, Grant's number was called, "519 at Station 9!" At last. This was our 5th trip to the DPS in the last 2 weeks trying to get his license. I am not making this up!
The first 2 trips to the Dallas DPS, the office was closed due to water damage, the sign said reopening on Feb 28. I called that office, the Austin DPS HQ and other Dallas County regional offices trying to verify that they were indeed open on the 28th. Not in any one of the 3 locations I called did an employee answer the phone, nor was there a recorded message device that could confirm or deny that the DPS was in business. We arrived, documents in order, on the 28th. CLOSED - Open on
Grant got out of school at 2:30 on March 7 and we hustled to the DPS, barely obeying all traffic laws and posted speed limits, and glory hallelujah, find the office open on our 3rd trip there. After a 25 minute wait in line, Grant presents his forms to the information lady, stating his business is to apply for a first time license.
"Oh golly, it is 3:17, I am just not sure they are going to do any more road test today. Let me go see."
She disappears behind the gray wall for 2 or 3 minutes. I could be wrong - but I am not. This is what I know was going on behind the gray wall:
"Benny, you wanna take another one on the road today?"
"Geeze Louise! You think I wanna take anymore of those nervously little chones-wetting kids out on the road? Look, I think by the time I finish this cup of coffee I can score my 40th win in a row, a personal best at this here solitaire game. Look, we all get off in an hour forty-five, I gotta tell ya, I am done for the day!"
She returns to the counter and gives us the bad news, "We aren't giving anymore road test today. But you can come back earlier tomorrow."
"Earlier? He doesn't get out of school until 2:30."
"Well in that case have somebody come get in line, using his permit number and hold a place for him 'til he gets here. Or, you can go to the Garland office - they have road tests 'til 4."
We get to the Garland office, and as we are waiting in line, she puts out a sign:
NO More
Driving Tests
Today
For those keeping score at home -This was our 4th visit to a DPS office. We return home. I feel for the kid and I am emotionally drained. I drink 3 glasses of root beer - which only helps a little.Driving Tests
Today
So close today. Grant is at the counter, I have paid the license fee, he has had his photo taken and then while they are examining his education and driving log sheets, a woman with asphalt in her soul whispers to our processing lady, "No more tests today". Our processing lady advocates for us, pleading our case that we are in the middle of completing the process AND we were here yesterday as well. But rules are rules and fair is fair - we are state employees and besides it will be 4 o'clock in 12 minutes and after is is 4, it will be 5 and at 5 we are CLOSED.
We are told come back tomorrow and just get right into that written testing line and maybe you'll get through in time.
God forgive me, after 5 trips to the DPS - and we're still not done (!)
I am loosing my religion of grace and a sovereign God.
I can use a bit of Fat Tuesday debauchery.
Lets just throw away the cars, the bombs and wars and get nekid with a glass of root beer and bourbon - naw, just the bourbon.
What do I want to give up for Lent?
For Lent, I would like to give up having to go back to the DPS bureaucracy
Maybe with a bit o' luck o' the Irish, Grant will get his license on Saint Patrick's Day.
The sixth times a charm. Right?
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Two Sure Things
Sunday Morning
February 27, 2011
Within marriage some things tend to settle out quickly as assumed duties of either the wife of the husband. Around these parts, for most of the mundane tasks the gender boundary is blurred; husband and wife share grocery shopping, laundry (i.e. we share cleaning laundry, not wearing her laundry) and cooking. Floor sweeping is the almost exclusive domain of the wife, while lawn mowing, trash removal and car maintenance are almost always the duties of the husband.
When it comes to the two certainties in life, death and taxes it seems only meet and proper that there be a split right down the middle in the handling of these two important duties. One spouse should take care to service the immortal soul and the other take care of the internal revenue service. Choose one: Death (and the immortal soul) or Taxes.
Sunday morning dawns relatively early and it is the wife who is up first to shower, dress up pretty, put on her face and make her way to minister to the Christian education of Preston Hollow Presbyterian's kids and to joyfully follow them into worship after the Sunday School hour. Bedighted in Spring fashion finery, Sue's Sunday is spent as she serves to communicate God's love to the children and then to attend a service of worship for our omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent God, keeper of our immortal soul. It is a time to focus on the soul. Once the shower and mirror space has been vacated, it is my lot to roll out of bed early on this Sunday and prepare my self in this season of the 1040 to be of service to our omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent Internal Revenue Service. It is time to focus on the finances, it is tax time.
It must have been about this time of year back around 1995, when I had spread out my Form 1040, Schedule A and B etc. in the upstairs office, when 3 1/2 year old Inga came in alone and noticed lots of paper. With my ink pen sitting nearby, handy for signing Form 1040 after a final review of all the hand calculated numbers, Inga set to doing what one is expected to do as a preschooler when presented with a stack of unadorned papers, one is to draw and express themselves. Ah, my darling little tax credit; how I now wish I had filed your doodles along with your Dad's doodles that year.
This season finds Inga off doodling on papers for her sophomore year at college [note to self: find Form 1098-T and look for Education Tax Credits] and only the dog comes in occasionally to check things over. [note to self: If I got a smart breed of dog, say for example, a Viennese Actuarial Schnauzer, I wonder if I could deduct her vet bills and doggy treats, if I document that the Actuarial Schnauzer helped me do my taxes? Or, if I got a puppy, I wonder if I could file for a tax deadline extension, reporting to the IRS that "my dog ate my return"?] While the wife is among her community of believers, surrounded by soaring sounds of praise; I on the other hand am alone in my office uttering grousing sounds of dissatisfaction. It is not even so much as I hate paying tax dollars; the most of it is I hate spending so much of my time putting together spreadsheets of expenses and organizing documents to fill in each tedious box on my return. Honestly, it makes my teeth itch.
Even if I nix the Viennese Actuarial Schnauzer idea, and consider using the services of my accountant friends, by the time I get all of the spreadsheets and documents in order for the professionals, I might as well do it myself using today's on line tax programs. My teeth would still itch anyway.
So, it being a split of Sue goes to Church and tend to the soul and I stay home to do the taxes, I make it a day of contrast. I don't shower this morning, I don't shave this morning, I don't eat breakfast, nor do I brush my teeth this Sunday morning. I am going to do my taxes feeling like one rough, tough, socially unacceptable, ornery and honest hombre. In fact I am not going to even change my underwear.
To Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Timothy Geithner, who did not even pay his taxes until he was confirmed as a member of Obama's cabinet, I say "eat my shorts" - cause I've been wearin' 'em for 2 days.
Many Happy Returns!
February 27, 2011
Within marriage some things tend to settle out quickly as assumed duties of either the wife of the husband. Around these parts, for most of the mundane tasks the gender boundary is blurred; husband and wife share grocery shopping, laundry (i.e. we share cleaning laundry, not wearing her laundry) and cooking. Floor sweeping is the almost exclusive domain of the wife, while lawn mowing, trash removal and car maintenance are almost always the duties of the husband.
When it comes to the two certainties in life, death and taxes it seems only meet and proper that there be a split right down the middle in the handling of these two important duties. One spouse should take care to service the immortal soul and the other take care of the internal revenue service. Choose one: Death (and the immortal soul) or Taxes.
Sunday morning dawns relatively early and it is the wife who is up first to shower, dress up pretty, put on her face and make her way to minister to the Christian education of Preston Hollow Presbyterian's kids and to joyfully follow them into worship after the Sunday School hour. Bedighted in Spring fashion finery, Sue's Sunday is spent as she serves to communicate God's love to the children and then to attend a service of worship for our omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent God, keeper of our immortal soul. It is a time to focus on the soul. Once the shower and mirror space has been vacated, it is my lot to roll out of bed early on this Sunday and prepare my self in this season of the 1040 to be of service to our omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent Internal Revenue Service. It is time to focus on the finances, it is tax time.
It must have been about this time of year back around 1995, when I had spread out my Form 1040, Schedule A and B etc. in the upstairs office, when 3 1/2 year old Inga came in alone and noticed lots of paper. With my ink pen sitting nearby, handy for signing Form 1040 after a final review of all the hand calculated numbers, Inga set to doing what one is expected to do as a preschooler when presented with a stack of unadorned papers, one is to draw and express themselves. Ah, my darling little tax credit; how I now wish I had filed your doodles along with your Dad's doodles that year.
This season finds Inga off doodling on papers for her sophomore year at college [note to self: find Form 1098-T and look for Education Tax Credits] and only the dog comes in occasionally to check things over. [note to self: If I got a smart breed of dog, say for example, a Viennese Actuarial Schnauzer, I wonder if I could deduct her vet bills and doggy treats, if I document that the Actuarial Schnauzer helped me do my taxes? Or, if I got a puppy, I wonder if I could file for a tax deadline extension, reporting to the IRS that "my dog ate my return"?] While the wife is among her community of believers, surrounded by soaring sounds of praise; I on the other hand am alone in my office uttering grousing sounds of dissatisfaction. It is not even so much as I hate paying tax dollars; the most of it is I hate spending so much of my time putting together spreadsheets of expenses and organizing documents to fill in each tedious box on my return. Honestly, it makes my teeth itch.
Even if I nix the Viennese Actuarial Schnauzer idea, and consider using the services of my accountant friends, by the time I get all of the spreadsheets and documents in order for the professionals, I might as well do it myself using today's on line tax programs. My teeth would still itch anyway.
So, it being a split of Sue goes to Church and tend to the soul and I stay home to do the taxes, I make it a day of contrast. I don't shower this morning, I don't shave this morning, I don't eat breakfast, nor do I brush my teeth this Sunday morning. I am going to do my taxes feeling like one rough, tough, socially unacceptable, ornery and honest hombre. In fact I am not going to even change my underwear.
To Secretary of the Treasury, Mr. Timothy Geithner, who did not even pay his taxes until he was confirmed as a member of Obama's cabinet, I say "eat my shorts" - cause I've been wearin' 'em for 2 days.
Many Happy Returns!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Some get the Breaks & Others get the Brakes
We all know all to well that it does not always break our way all the time. But at the least we can hope it evens out, and if we follow Thomas Edison's advice, the harder we work the luckier we get.
Good Breaks
After several months of fretting about her thin resume, offering supplications at the campus job fair and applications to frozen yogurt shops among others, Inga finally got a break. One of her professors in the Department of Public Policy, Planning and Management (3PM) posted a notice online looking for interns at the Health Research Institute Pacific Northwest. Inga indicated her interest via email, whipped out a resume and added the requisite buzz words with the help of her English Major roommate. She was then asked to supply a sample of her writing and reasoning capabilities, for which she chose a health policy paper from last semester, and that landed an interview. The professor looked at her portfolio and said, "I look forward to working with you". Opportunity favors the well prepared mind (and technically savvy laptop surfer).
Inga is now a happy little cubicle monkey, filling in spreadsheets with results she pulls from transcribed interviews with doctors who are applying experimental pharmaceuticals and therapies to patients. Her spreadsheets distill the patient's reactions into a common, codeable form which can then be subjected to comparison, research and analysis. She expects to work on numerous medical research projects as the Health Research Institute gets funding and grants to study a variety of up and coming medications and therapies. This job pairs well with her need as a 3PM major to gain credit hours by interning at such an organization, in addition to fitting into her plans to work in public policy and management of a health-based non-profit organization.
Of course there is also the moral satisfaction of advancing the health and welfare amongst the human species. With regards to advancing the welfare of the species, Inga is anticipating some influx of cash to replace a pair of worn out jeans and get her hair done. Advancing the welfare of the species, starting with one coed of the human species at a time.
**********************************
Tough Breaks (literally)
Grant was prepared to get his driver's license at the end of February [see: Curse of the Kielbasa; Feb., 2011] but a break in the water pipes at the DPS Drivers License Bureau during record cold on February 2nd, shut down the facility until the 28th. Numerous phone calls to the DPS at the Dallas location, the HQ in Austin and to other county DPS offices to see if the closed office had reopened as scheduled, all went unanswered. So Grant and I drove back to Dallas to see for ourselves. The new sign said come back on March 7th (sucker!).
Slam on those metaphorical brakes!
Skid marks right across a young man's dreams.
It's just sad.
Last Tuesday was a state mandated academic testing day at school, from which Seniors are exempted, so Grant did not have to be at school until 10:30. He really wanted to pull into the Garland HS parking lot as a solo driver that morning, with all of the rights, honors and privileges thereof; but had to catch a ride with Sam instead. Broken pipes, broken dreams.
A coworker of Sue's just had her son get his license; so we learned from her experience that despite being told that one's records/application, as a learning permit driver, can only be accessed at the one and only DPS office that is designated on the original form, that is "an old form" and is no longer true. Apparently Texas has discovered within the last few months that records can be digitized and accessed on a computer from more than one location. We also learned that the form that I had notarized last month that states I, as designating driving instructor, am waiving the need for my student to take a driving road test is also "an old form" and is no longer accepted, A drivers test with score sheet will be administered, including parallel parking skills.
We will try again on Monday - unless something else changes.
Good Breaks
After several months of fretting about her thin resume, offering supplications at the campus job fair and applications to frozen yogurt shops among others, Inga finally got a break. One of her professors in the Department of Public Policy, Planning and Management (3PM) posted a notice online looking for interns at the Health Research Institute Pacific Northwest. Inga indicated her interest via email, whipped out a resume and added the requisite buzz words with the help of her English Major roommate. She was then asked to supply a sample of her writing and reasoning capabilities, for which she chose a health policy paper from last semester, and that landed an interview. The professor looked at her portfolio and said, "I look forward to working with you". Opportunity favors the well prepared mind (and technically savvy laptop surfer).
Inga is now a happy little cubicle monkey, filling in spreadsheets with results she pulls from transcribed interviews with doctors who are applying experimental pharmaceuticals and therapies to patients. Her spreadsheets distill the patient's reactions into a common, codeable form which can then be subjected to comparison, research and analysis. She expects to work on numerous medical research projects as the Health Research Institute gets funding and grants to study a variety of up and coming medications and therapies. This job pairs well with her need as a 3PM major to gain credit hours by interning at such an organization, in addition to fitting into her plans to work in public policy and management of a health-based non-profit organization.
Of course there is also the moral satisfaction of advancing the health and welfare amongst the human species. With regards to advancing the welfare of the species, Inga is anticipating some influx of cash to replace a pair of worn out jeans and get her hair done. Advancing the welfare of the species, starting with one coed of the human species at a time.
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Tough Breaks (literally)
Grant was prepared to get his driver's license at the end of February [see: Curse of the Kielbasa; Feb., 2011] but a break in the water pipes at the DPS Drivers License Bureau during record cold on February 2nd, shut down the facility until the 28th. Numerous phone calls to the DPS at the Dallas location, the HQ in Austin and to other county DPS offices to see if the closed office had reopened as scheduled, all went unanswered. So Grant and I drove back to Dallas to see for ourselves. The new sign said come back on March 7th (sucker!).
Slam on those metaphorical brakes!
Skid marks right across a young man's dreams.
It's just sad.
Last Tuesday was a state mandated academic testing day at school, from which Seniors are exempted, so Grant did not have to be at school until 10:30. He really wanted to pull into the Garland HS parking lot as a solo driver that morning, with all of the rights, honors and privileges thereof; but had to catch a ride with Sam instead. Broken pipes, broken dreams.
A coworker of Sue's just had her son get his license; so we learned from her experience that despite being told that one's records/application, as a learning permit driver, can only be accessed at the one and only DPS office that is designated on the original form, that is "an old form" and is no longer true. Apparently Texas has discovered within the last few months that records can be digitized and accessed on a computer from more than one location. We also learned that the form that I had notarized last month that states I, as designating driving instructor, am waiving the need for my student to take a driving road test is also "an old form" and is no longer accepted, A drivers test with score sheet will be administered, including parallel parking skills.
We will try again on Monday - unless something else changes.
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