Howdy Folks! It's A Fair Day

September means The State Fair of Texas.  
Visitors are greeted by the beloved and iconic 'Big Tex' and his booming baritone, "Howdy folks! Welcome to the State Fair of Texas!".  Before the invention of cell phones, it was always agreed upon by moms and her kids; "If you get lost, we will meet around the boots of Big Tex".

And now that we have cell phones, Grant called home from Missouri, and said that he had a scheduling change at work, which gave him two extra days off while he transitioned to his new schedule, so... it being September, he asked, why don't we plan to meet at Big Tex? 

Grant pulled in in the evening, got a some home cooking and we made plans to catch the DART train the next day that would take us directly to the Main Gate.  We would figure it out from there.  Ans so we did.

Looking over the schedule of events at the fair today

Fair grounds is populated with many Art Deco statues and murals

A cut through the midway
Didn't win a giant stuffed purple bear -
Didn't try to win a giant stuffed purple bear

The 'Texas Star' Dominates the skyline at Fair Park

We cheer on the African Acrobats at a free show

If you haven't eaten a Fletcher's Corny Dog, then you haven't been to the Fair

Add caption

State Fair is famous for its fried food concoctions -
We try go for the 'Fried Twinkies', an old standard.
No regrets

The Swan Boats

Fair Park - Home of the Cotton Bowl

Pig races!  Our porker wins!

A concert by the Marine Corps Band

More fried food, this time let's try 'Fried Cheesecake' - A winner

So long folks!

I'd say it was a fare day.

GTT - Gone To Texas, Inga returns with Sean

It'd been far stretch since she'd been back to Texas.  But she let us know that she'd like to come visit for a few days and bring her boyfriend Sean along to see her natal land.  We all said, "Boy Howdy! Y'all do come for a spell!"

We picked Inga and Sean up at Love Field in Dallas on a Friday evening and returned home for what was to become a beef-eating bonanza.  I put 4 steaks on the grill over the charcoal and we had a late dinner of steak, crusty bread, mangoes and an angel food cake for dessert.  Sean marveled as he told Inga's mother; that is ALL her favorite food!  Sue smiled, "You know, there are no happen-stance coincidences here."

Inga had a Texas-sized agenda laid out for the two of them, mostly to immerse Sean in all things Texan - at least North Texas, Texan.

On Saturday it was up and at 'em by mid-morning with a trip out the back door to meet Chomper and Isaac, the resident tortoises.  Inga and Sean each took a few pieces of melon and had those two curious and friendly reptiles eating out of their hands in no time.

Later on Saturday, Inga had set up a Tex-Mex lunch with her friend Brianna McCord to meet Sean.  Brianna's parents who have been our good friends since the girls were very little also came to town from their place in East Texas to meet Sean.  After lunch at Mi Amigos, Inga and Sean visited the Dallas Arboretum, a favorite spot for us and the kids when our family was young.  I find it gratifying to have the 'kids' return as adults and revisit the places which we parents thought of as special family places.

Come Sunday it was off to the west to Fort Worth for the two of them to visit the world renown Zoo and then a hearty meal at Cooper's Barbecue at the edge of the Fort Worth Stockyards District.  They actually bought more meat than they could eat, so they brought some home for our enjoyment too.

Monday, we all had lunch a our local Chinese spot, Yen China; where, I as a regular, am enshrined with my photo on the wall of the restaurant.  I had told the owner, Nichole, that Inga and Sean were coming from Oregon to eat there, so they got a big Chinese family welcome when we all arrived, and a special plate of pot stickers on the house for our celebration lunch.

Inga had purchased tickets for our home team, play-off bound, league leading Texas Rangers.  This was to be Sean's first professional baseball game, and he was suitably attired in a Ranger's jersey and had been recently converted to the love of the game by Inga.  They were rewarded by a 9th inning, come-from-behind walk-off win by the home team.  Inga, who makes things happen, also made sure that they were in the gallery for the post-game show and got interviewed by roving ballpark TV reporter Jim Knox.

As seen from our TV at Home
Ingsa & Sean interviewed on Post Game Show 

A shot from our TV
Ingas makes sure that visitors from Oregon
are featured after Rangers victory on Post Game TV Show

Inga gave Sean a tour of her former route to Sachse High School; which she has characterized to all of her Oregonian friends, as "The most sterotypical Texan commute to high school one could imagine".  Her drive to high school took her by the Whataburger (beloved Texas institution), past the gun range, then along side the FFA livestock barn, over a limestone hill, thickly filled in the Spring by lush Blue Bonnets (Revered State Flower of Texas) and then to Sachse High. 

More BBQ on Tuesday.  This time to downtown Garland's brew pub and smoke house.  It is a 'hipster' kind of place, so it was a good mix of Portlandia and Texas.

Unfortunately, Inga ans Sean did not pack a bag big enough to bring Portland weather with them.  though they thought that mid-September might be mild and pleasant, they got the tail end of Summer, with temperatures at 100 degrees.

A trip to downtown Dallas on the DART train brought them to the Perot Museum of Science for a day and the free Dallas Museum of Art.  However, by the time they had finished there museum trek, the food trucks were pulling away from their spots in Klyde Warren Park - so they missed lunch.  No worries, Whataburger is open late.

What is a trip to Texas without an order of your favorite Whataburger?  It is incomplete - that's what.  Oh no. Can't have that.  We all pledged to allow Sean to have his first Texas Whataburger.  Inga had raved to friends in tofu land about the flavor and the experience of a Texas Whataburger, but they all mocker her.  They pretended that she was raving about a "Water-burger".  Ha!  They made fun of Inga and her Texas boasting often.  So, it came out that this is what Sean's trip to Texas was all about.  It was to be vindication for Inga once she got Sean to disavow his "Water-burger" foolery.  It was time for tasting a Whataburger, a time for tasting comeuppance.

At the Door of Delicious Texas

Sean Orders his A-1 Thick & Hearty Burger

At Whataburger, they serve you at your table with condiment choices
along with your food & drink order

Smiles
You're eating a Texas Whataburger

Good Eatin'

Sean capitulates and agrees with Inga that a Whataburger is pretty dang tasty.

They pack up there Texas memories and return to the cool, gray skies of Portland.  They say that they will be back.

Happy Trails!

Curse of a Good Neighbor

Rumbmbmbm - putt - putt -puttt - puttt - cfghcfgh cough

The sound of my machine as I push it across by back 40 over an assortment of bermuda, dallis and crab grass and other species classified as weeds.  I had just finished cutting the green stuff in the alley and along the side yard when I see good neighbor Steve sauntering up my driveway.  I cut the engine, as I know I am about to be engaged in an extended "over-the-fence" chat.  

Steve opens the conversation, "When are you going to let me fix the choke on your mower?"  Steve, a fix-it guy extraordinaire, now retire from a telecommunications career, and former star employee at Home Depot; apparently can not bear to listen to my struggling mower engine any longer from his home across the alley.  I stammer like a lawn mower with bad carburation - "Would you do that for me?"

Steve takes a baleful glance at my machine and drops his diagnosis on me, "Sounds like you're not getting a good mix of oxygen in your engine."
Have you changed the air filter?"
I blush and say, "No".
"Have you changed your oil?"
I blanch and say, "No".

Steve bends down and disassembles the cover over my air filter and holds it up in the sunlight; no light comes through the dust and grease choking off the pores.  Steve looks disapprovingly at the sludgy air filter in his hand, then tells me to start the engine.  I pull the start chord and the engine comes to life with a noticeably smoother purr.

I tell Steve he has now shamed me into doing proper maintenance.  Steve says he is not here to shame me, but recommends a trip to Home Depot where I can find air filters to fit most models of mowers.

In my shame, I follow Steve advice and install a new, clean air filter.  I now burn a lot less fuel and me and my machine now hum the hymn of a suburban homeowner as I traverse the green, green grass of home on each and every weekend. 

Proof by Cornbread

Dang.  For the second time, Sue's cornbread came out of the oven looking just fine; golden brown on the top and smelling sweet and just right.  But for the second time, once I cut into the round of cornbread, its center parts oozed out across the pan.  This is not right.

We conclude it may be the oven rather than the recipe.  We scheduled lunch together downtown on Friday afternoon with the plan to swing by Staten's Appliances on Main Street for a consultation.  Mr. Staten has been in business there following in his father's appliance business before him since 1969.  I like the old low-ceiling cluttered shop stacked with used washers, driers and ovens; all made the old-fashioned way and built to last.  I have received DIY repair tips, replacement parts and a used washing machine from Mr. Staten previously.  Never disappointed. 

Harold listen to our complaints about the results of Sue's cornbread and sympathized with out plight.  He suggested several tests to diagnose whether we were looking at a new thermostat (in which case it is time for new stove), a bad lower oven element or a bad connection.  After testing, it looked like we were dealing with a bad connection.  I unbolted the lower heating element and and found that one of the plate-connections at the end of the wire had shorted and burned off.  I put the corrupted pieces in a plastic bag and told Sue to go see Mr. Staten and get some replacement parts like these.

She made the trip downtown the next afternoon and showed Mr. Staten what I had found; he nodded knowingly and had his son fetch a new wire and threw in a screw and a twist-cap electrical connection.  While he handed Sue a bag of fix-it pieces, he extracted a promise from her to let him know how it turned out.  How much for advice and a few notions?  "Free.  'Cause I didn't do anything".

Soon after I connected the new wire to the old heating element, Sue tested the baking effectiveness of Mr. Staten's advice and my handiwork with a batch of cornbread muffins.  The muffins turned out real fine.  And of course the first half-dozen were delivered (still warm) to Mr. Staten, making good on the promise.  When she walked through the door, Mr. Staten inquired with a smile, "How'd it all worked out?" "Taste and see!" She said as she produced a foil-wrapped serving of cornbread muffins. He smile generously and said he'd have 'em for lunch with a big glass of milk.
As we like to say around these parts, "The proof is in the cornbread".  

Feeling like testing your own oven?
Here's my recommendation:

Pre-heat oven to 400 degrees (F)
Combine in large bowl:
     1 Cup               Flour
     1 Cup               Yellow Cornmeal
     2/3 Cup            White Sugar
     1 teaspoon        Salt
     3 1/2 teaspoons Baking Powder

Sir into above mix:
     1           Egg
     1 Cup    Milk   
     1/3 Cup Vegetable Oil

Mix well and Pour into 9" Round Cake Pan
Bake for 20-25 Minutes at 400 Deg (or until inserted toothpick comes out clean)

If your cornbread does not turn out mushy - your oven is working just fine. Consider it "Mr. Staten's Proper Appliance Test".

Trouble in Paradise

Of tenants, trouble-makers and troglodytes.

On an early August morning, I get a call at work from Sue.  She says: "I just got an interesting call."  I say, "interesting is a loaded word."

One of the locals living near abouts our rental property in Washington went to the trouble to look us up on the county property tax rolls and track down our home phone number.  The caller asked Sue, if she knew what was going on on our property?  Pray tell - what are you trying to say?  Well, they wanted to let us know that our property had become the venue for large raucous gatherings of party-goers who raced their dirt bikes and ATV's in our back forty into the small hours of the morning.  Fire arms were discharged into the night and rumor had it that mayhem and immorality abounded amongst the revelers and occupants of the place.  Our response - The heck you say!

"Oh yes", we are assured.  And there is more to come...

Later we were supplied with a Twitter link that proudly advertised a 'fat ass' party at our address along with the promise to torch a car in our back pasture.  The tenant also posts his life goals and ambitions by proclaiming, "I like to fuck shit up".  I am thinking that that is my stuff that he is fricking up.  Am I right?  

Social Media Post of  Vehicle Arson on our Land
Is there a problem here?

We sent our property manager out to take a look and report back.  The report was not good.  The property was piled with trash, some hard-living had gone on inside the house.  The manager told the tenant that she would return in 48 hours for an inspection of the entire property.

Come Saturday, she arrived with two burly "mountain men" escorts to check out our property.  The tenant was either not home or did not answer the door... Hmmm.  So interior inspection was not conducted.  She found the charred chassis had been dragged out of the back forty and dumped with another burned car and a couple of dead cars near the house.  Evidence suggested that a marijuana growing operation was planned for the woods on our estate and an infestation of squatters was found to be living on our land down by the creek.  Needless to say, we were not pleased with the report we received and multiple violation of the lease.  After the poor report, we had our manager give notice that they had another 48 hours to get the place back to an acceptable condition. Unfortunately that did not happen.  Tenants were given notice they had 20 days to vacate the premises.   

It looks like my Oktoberfest involves travel to the Great Northwest, by plane or car, and some days invested in cleaning up the land and house and repairing the place for some new tenants ASAP.   

Trouble in paradise, our bucolic little homestead nestled under old growth firs along the Pilchuck Creek, with an old orchard swept up in spreading grass giving way to peacefully wooded land has been savaged.  So sorry to see what is ours and lent in good faith, become an encampment for those with no other purpose that to 'fuck shit up'.  In the end, that which you mess up comes back on you.  What you enjoyed messing up turns out to actually be your own life.  A life messed up royally.  Am I right?  Of course I am.