Austin360 blogs > Bottlecaps & Wingnuts > Archives > 2008 > June
June 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
