Mizzou Summer Welcome

Summer Welcome: a series of two-day orientation sessions for incoming University of Missouri freshman and their parents.  Due to Sue's busy job-related schedule, heavy with Vacation Bible School and multiple 1-week day camps that she is in charge of, the penultimate Summer Welcomed worked best for us, July 6 & 7.

We departed directly from McCord's (where we celebrated Independence Day) in central East Texas and drove 11 hours to Columbia, MO.  Despite my philosophical reservations, rooted deep in my Scots ancestry, to paying tolls to travel on a road, I opted to drive through Oklahoma on the Indian Nations Toll Road to save time.  I console myself this very day with the proverb "time is money", somewhat assuaging my regret at paying for what should be a taxpayer funded birthright.  Yet, I should feel even worst, as I am now a wanted man by the Okies.  As I came upon the tollbooth, I accidentally go into the lane reserved for "Exact Change (Coins) Only".  I had exact change for the $1.75 toll, but only three quarters and a single dollar bill.  With a car waiting impatiently behind me, I threw the $0.75 worth of coins into the toll basket and sped off holding my non-coin dollar bill with sirens blaring and tollbooth lights flashing in my rearview mirror.  I told Sue and Grant to duck down to the floor boards in case any shots are fired in our direction.  We beat it to the Arkansas stateline, now a wanted scofflaw wandering the midwest in fear that maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow - but someday I'll regret not paying the full dollar to the Okies for the rest of my life.

We arrived at campus in the evening, where we had dorm rooms reserved for two nights.  Grant was assigned to the men's wing and on a floor with fellow Journalism majors.  His Summer Welcome roommate was from Chicago, interested in broadcast journalism - but, according to Grant, "did not say much" - I do believe this is an inauspicious sign for the young man.  We parents had a separate dorm with a two-bed suite.

We met Grant at breakfast the next morning, where his mother asked him how he slept?  Well, he did not sleep much, was involved in roller chair races down the hallway and spent time talking with others and watching ESPN.  I am hoping this first night in the dorms is not so inauspicious as it may seem.  We three joined guided campus tour and at then end of our tour, Grant was separated from us for the rest of the day.  This suited Grant just fine, as we are so full of questions that should not even be asked [his opinion] or which are so elementary they do not deserve an answer [his opinion].

The beginning of second day Grant took a Spanish placement test and then met with both an academic and peer advisor and got his classes chosen.  Being the second-to-last Summer Welcome session, many of his class options were already limited  But now with his freshly minted UofM ID Card (acts as ID/Credit Card/Dorm Key) he was officially enrolled.  The last piece of business is the new rite of passage; purchasing a laptop computer and getting it setup to sync with the campus network by IT workers in the bookstore.

Breakfast Day 2 at Rollins Campus Cafeteria

By 1 PM we were headed back to Dallas.  Mom suggested that since it is already after noon, maybe we should get a motel rather than drive the 670 miles back home in one fell swoop.  I stifled the urge to laugh at my womenfolk's weeniness, knowing that I would regret it - maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but for the rest of my life.  But really, do you want to check into a motel in Podunck, Oklahoma at 10 PM or drive for another 2 1/2 hours to get home?  Of course we pull into the garage at 12:30 and everyone stays up until almost 3 AM telling Inga about all that we have seen and done. [Except the part about her Dad being a wanted man in at least one state that she does not even know about].

In the words of a cherished, but inscrutable Chinese pronouncement; It has all been one "huge cracker flower that you may never see! - The Happy Panda

Independence Day

Following the July 4th holiday, we were scheduled for Summer Welcome - Freshman Orientation at the University of Missouri, Columbia with Grant.  But, the Suneson family often enjoys the 4th at the home of the McCords in Mount Alba, East Texas.  This year we figured we would spend July 3-5 at the McCord's then drive from there to Mizzou for Grant's orientation.

This year, we left Inga at home in Garland to take care of Strider and the tortoises.  Her care for the dog was a convenience, and besides she had a party with old high school friends and was not that interested in spending several days with us in Columbia, MO.  Grant had stuffed his pockets with some folding money in anticipation of a stop at the fireworks stand.  Who could resist pyrotechnics on Independence Day?  None of the guys could anyway.  We all bought a few ignitable-excitable spark and boom making devices.  The state-wide drought and burn ban (though not always a fireworks ban) was killing the profits of the roadside stands this year - but they offered no deep discounts despite the slow sales.

After Sue's fried chicken and famously fabulous potato salad for supper, we digested and then began to light up the gravel driveway in a celebration of liberty.

I find a fireworks display to be a visceral, multiscensory and primal enjoyment; the anticipation as the fuse takes spark from the punk and the quick sputter and sizzle as the flame races to the powder, the burst of light, color and smoke blasting into the dark sky, the scream, hiss and pop of the fantasmagoric gaudy display and the after-glow accented by the wafting aroma of spent black powder.  I am sure this is exactly what the founding fathers had in mind when they penned the phrase, "Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness".

Now that the Chinese make all of our July 4th entertainment, I now find reading the warning and sales descriptions most amusing part of the entertainment.  When searching the shelves for pyrotechnics, one has the choice of variously translated products, for example; the "Brutish Fish"  or the "Happy Panda".  Grant selected the Happy Panda to be used as the Grande Finale, primarily based on the English translated description, which reads (verbatim) as follows:

PERFORMANCE       Look at this lovely Panda! He can whistle, spit chry. stars, torches, etc.  And he can smile and blink at you in the dark night! Finale is huge cracker flower you may never see!

Yes indeed! HUGE CRACKER FLOWER YOU MAY NEVER SEE! -- I'm not sure if the advertised "huge cracker flower" is a clever Chinese marketing ploy aimed at the rednecks and crackers in East Texas, nor am I sure if this portion of the phrase "... you may never see!" is setting us up for something that we paid for but may or may not be seen once the fuse is lit.  So inscrutable!

Candles on Milestones

In all things give thanks.

It is a bit wistful to see the milestones now flying rapidly into the past, and it is somewhat dazing to recall how many of those events that seem so long in the past are in reality just a few years ago.  Birthdays are by definition bright milestones that are all the more illuminated in our memories, if not by the open flames we traditionally set upon them, then by convenient marking of another year that belongs to ages.  And so it is this summer, with Inga and Grant celebrating birthdays 3 days apart.

We parents peer into the past and remember Inga smearing banana mush into her hair (birthday #1) and another time when Grant waited for his party guests to arrive, only to have just 1 show up, as the others had all gone out of town on the July 4th holiday, birthday #7.  With one perspective these events seem to only be conjured up from deep time, while in another perspective, it was really not that long ago.  How easily the cosmic fabric is warped by our perspective and memory.  Then, there is the fact that birthday visits to that infernal, amped-up, force-fed amphetamine-happy mouse (or is he a rat?) at Chuck e Cheese Pizza are also in the past.  In all things give thanks.

INGA waved the teen years good-bye at the end of June.  Her birthday requests:

Meal: A thick and rare steak, served with white rice.  I added mojitos all around with home grown mint pretending I had lost track of her age and that she was actually turning 21.
Dessert:   Angelfood cake - plain, neat and straight up.

Baked egg whites and lots of sugar - just like I like it!

GRANT turned 18 - with all of the rights, privileges and honors thereof.  Mostly he can get in to see any movie he wants now, plus he can make his own legal decisions on his medical care.  His birthday request:

Meal:   Requested Meshack's barbecue (ribs & sliced brisket) - they sold out just before I got there to order, so we went to the Twisted Root burger joint.  I accidentally-on-purpose mentioned it was his birthday to the cashier, so he received a razzing over the intercom and a free chocolate shake.  [He got some Meshack's barbecue the next day]
Dessert:   Chocolate cake with raspberry filling and topping.

Ancestral "Clan Grant" mug with Scottish Tartan and Clan Seal

Snarky 18 Year Old does not enjoy a certain comment from his sister

So when did the cake tops get filled with so many candles? 

Blow hard, make a wish and I'll race you to the next milestone kids.

I Love a Parade... Maybe Not That Much

It is all over now.  Even the shouting.

We don't follow the NBA season too closely until the playoffs, and then we are ardent supporters of the Dallas Mavericks.  This year it was time.  Time for Good to triumph over Evil.  This season in particular the Mav's were the personification of Good; led by 13-year veteran, the 7-foot Dirk Nowitski who signed a selfless contract for less money in order to stay with a good Dallas team and free up some cash to acquire surrounding quality players, with the expectation of winning a championship with his team.  The Mavs were a team of veterans, who displayed all the virtues of solid teamwork and hard work only to finish third in the division to the perennial nemesis, the San Antonio Spurs and the reigning Champions, the hated LA Lakers.  But in the first round of the playoffs, the Mav's showed guts in coming back the next night from a 4th quarter meltdown that allowed the Portland Trailblazers to come from behind a 23 point deficit and win an early playoff game.  The Mavs went on to beat Portland, then vanquished the Lakers in a four game sweep. 

With the Western Conference title in hand, they were up against the Evil Miami Heat, the antithesis of the loyalty, selflessness and teamwork shown by the Mavericks.  The Heat purchased the talents of a couple of great players to go with their star DeWayne Howard.  The "ultimate weapon" was the addition of LeBron "King" James who announced his departure from his boyhood and hometown team with the quote. "I will be taking my talents to South Beach".  The Miami Heat was seen as buying a championship and claimed in an over-the-top preseason introduction that with the talent they had bought, they were set up for multiple championships and overtly inferred that they really did not need to play any games - the commissioner might as well hand then the trophy before the season even started.  Boooo!

But play they must.  But the Heat did not out play the local heroes and ended up loosing on their home court in Game 6.  The country rejoiced to see Good vanquish Evil, the bragging millionaire ball players who over-promised and under performed against the Dallas Maverick TEAM. 

It all felt so good to watch.  None of the veteran players on the Mavericks had previously won the NBA Championship until this year.  Especially sweet for Dallas fans was the revenge factor, having lost the championship to Miami in 2004 after being ahead 2 games to zero.  Back in 2004, the City Council had begun to plan the Victory Parade after the 2-0 lead in the Finals; this premature celebration was widely blamed for jinxing the team and comeuppance by sporting gods for displaying excessive hubris.

This time around, the Victory Parade was not mentioned until the final buzzer had sounded.  And to his credit and with great appreciation of the local taxpayer, Mark Cuban, the beloved owner of the Maverick franchise promised to pay all city bills associated with hosting the 1.5 mile parade for his team, out of his own pocket.

Grant, the big sports fan, was ecstatic and his sister was nearly equally so (vindicating her Mav Fan status among all the Trailblazer fans surrounding her at the University of Oregon).  As the final victorious seconds clicked off the clock, Grant turned to Inga, "We so gotta go to the parade!"

Soon enough, the schedule for the celebration was released to the public. Mavericks Victory Parade would travel from Dallas City Hall to the American Airlines Center (Mav's home court), a 1.5 mile trip on Thursday morning, beginning at 10:30 AM.  The forecast was for 200,000 fans to clog downtown, the temperature was to be above 90 and if you wanted to see anything, you'd better get there early - like by 7 AM.  Enough said. 

I love a parade, just maybe not that much.  They chose to sleep in and watch the event from the living room with AC, no hassle.  Enjoy, but discretion may be the better part of fandom.

Go Mav's!

Pun Contest

I sent 10 entries into a pun writing contest hoping to win a prize, I was disappointed to learn no pun in ten did.

--From my son's surfing on the internet

Season of Lint

While Inga was home from college, and once she was out of bed (only a few short hours after high noon), it was time to put her skinny little frame to good use.  For months now, the clothes dryer's exhaust connection was not connected; resulting in lint-filled hot and humid air being vented into the laundry room, rather than the exterior of the house.  Inga's job was to stuff her thin-frame self behind the washer and recouple the dryer with its flexible exhaust tube and tighten the cinching hose clamp with a screw driver.  She changed into a pair of her most skuzzy shorts and a old top for the Cinderella role.

But before the repair could be done, she had to fish out from behind the washer & dryer all objects given up for lost and many items forgotten. 

It was like reaching into a grab bag,
it was opening a time capsule,
it was peering into the past,
it was digging up objects of wonder and mystery!

We found a nickel (though not a "Buffalo Nickle"), a box of 100 watt light bulbs, a can of spray starch, many month's supply of Kirby vacuum cleaner bags, the motherload of white socks (that once washed will go into a mating frenzy with a basket of lonely, unmated socks that have been waiting for this moment of reunion for who knows how long?), two pair of plaid boxers and one pair of purple panties (yeah!!).  Also, plenty of lint that had to be scraped and vacuumed from the floor.

My friends, in these dog days of mid-Summer, are looking for a little mystery? A bit of adventure? Well, then - look no further than behind your washer and dryer.  You will be amazed!

Meat & Peaches!

Summer Vacation!
Inga finished her sophomore year at the U of Oregon, got a night's sleep, then up early and found her way to Portland where she caught Southwest Airlines for an indirect flight back to Dallas.

In preparation for her arrival, her mother asked, "What would you like once you arrive home?"  The quick and resounding response was, "Meat and peaches!" - though not necessarily minced and mashed into a single serving, just two separate tastes of home. 
On the downside, the Dean at the U did not schedule final exams to coincide with the peak of the Texas peach harvest, so she will have to eat only cobbler and pie created from the remains of our previous week's harvest.  No fresh peaches off the tree for you latecomer! 
On the upside, her arrival did coincide with one of our family's most anticipated social events of the year, Mark Rice's sometimes-almost-usually annual smokeout.  Mark Rice, and his wife Kathy (our friends and my accountants) will throw an authentic, smoked meat extravaganza when the right mood and a properly clear calendar cosmically intersect.  This very alignment of gastronomical juices and astrological time/space just happened to occur the day after Inga's return to town, more than fulfilling her wish for "meat" (which is to be understood as Texas Barbecue).  Mr. Rice is the serious connoisseur of smoked meats, and the culinary results that come from his methods provide him with justifiable pride and upon which rest much of his self esteem.  Personally, I have been known to avoid showering above the neck for 3 days straight after the Smokeout in order to keep from rinsing the subtle savors and flavors from my mustache.  We did enjoy his wines and his barbecue, while I contributed fresh backed rolls and beans.

Once Inga's plane landed and as she walked out of the Love Field Terminal toward our parked car, she was nearly instantaneously vaporized as she felt the Texas heat.  "I had forgotten how hot air could be!" she gasped as she plucker her melted shoes from the pavement.  It was a gray dawn with light rain and 55 degrees when she left Portland. Her stint at home has been mostly relaxed and uneventful.  A few nights out with old high school friends, keeping in touch with others via electronic devices and their key pads, a few excursions here and about, hanging out with the dog in A/C comfort and feeding the tortoises in the morning.  She was home to watch the Dallas Mavericks win the basketball championship and take in a Rangers baseball game in honor of her 20th birthday.  She cooked a dinner of pulled pork and has enjoyed a couple of hearty steak meals off the grill.

Her return ticket will take her back on July 16, where she has a summer math class waiting for her.  She was going to audition for a roll in Eugene's Shakespeare in the Park performance, but quadratic equations represent a higher calling at this stage in her career.

Meat and peaches have had their time.  Then is back to tofu and waffles.