itchy and scratchy

Itchy & scratchy is exactly how I felt today after insulating the bathroom wall with fiberglass. I wore a long-sleeved shirt well buttoned up and still those nasty fibers sneaked in under my coverings. This photo shows the beginning of the bathroom demolition I started last week. "That stupid man", as we call the unknown "handy"man who performed half-assed repairs to the house was calling down our wrath again. He had installed a vinyl shower-surround over regular drywall and had not bothered to caulk properly along the edge that met with the bathtub, but had instead put something resembling vinyl shoe-molding around the edges. this allowed water to leak readily into the crack and the result was the sheet rock was crumbling all round the tub, the tub edges were darkly mildewed, and black mold was beginning to creep up the back of the sheet rock. The shower-surround HAD to come out.

I found some fairly inexpensive tile at Lowe's made with recycled material that creates unusual organic patterns on an aqua-colored base tile. The 3x3" tiles come on a 12x12" sheet, enabling you to place 16 of them at at time. I splurged on some dark blue mudcap tiles to give the tiles a more finished look. The mudcaps had to be specially ordered, but arrived yesterday. I hope to pick them up on Sunday (tomorrow).

I finished demolition yesterday and today I installed batts of R-13 fiberglass insulation between the studs. There was also a square place where the "stupid man" had removed a window and then nailed clapboards over some 2x4's he'd screwed into the original studs. I covered the inner side of the clapboards with roofing felt, hoping to keep out some of the wind and moisture and will be caulking them on the outside in the coming days. I have to re-build the "wall" that the "stupid man" built at the plumbed end of the tub and have a real plumber come out to install some cut-off valves for the water and the new tub/shower fixture that I bought. Then the cement board goes up and the tile follows. I'm psyched about doing tile, but today I'm so tired I can't think much about it. I worked 3 days in a row last weekend and 3 days this weekend and when I got home after driving the 40 miles from McKinney I was so stiff I thought I might not move again for a week. The itchies and scratchies had set in full force by then, so I took a shower, applied a heating pad to my shoulders and conked out for about 2 hours. I plan on conking out again shortly, after I get my last clock turned back. It's a great weekend for me to receive an extra hour of sleep!

kitchen progression

I see it's been more than a month since I've posted. Had I known how tired i would be I would not have attempted a blog on this project. Good thing we can't see the future!

Here's the kitchen before we bought the house. It looks okay but what you can't see is the dishwasher doesn't work, the stove is filthy inside and is leaking a lot of carbon monoxide and the joist under the kitchen floor is broken. There is no storage on the wall opposite the sink and no room for a refrigerator. The sagging ceiling is barely 7 feet high. The wiring is a nightmare. Silly us: we think it can be fixed in no time!


Here's a look at the partially demolished kitchen. It was at this point I began finding a LOT of termite damage and started to wonder how bad things were going to get. I also found interesting relics of the past, including old newspaper and magazine pages pasted to the wall, odd wallpaper and burlap bags used as insulation. These unfinished planks still have the original saw marks on them and were nailed with square iron nails.


Here's the kitchen after part of the wall has been moved back 24 inches to accomodate a refrigerator, cabinets and countertop. The room has been almost completely rebuilt. There are new piers under the floor, new girders and joists, new subfloor, new wall supports and the wall around the new window has been redone. Fiberglas insulation has been added to ceiling and exterior wall and a radiant barrier has been installed next to the decking of the roof. We now have a working window with double-pane low-e glass. This room should be cozy in the winter.

Last weekend I primed and painted the newly plastered walls. This week the flooring, cabinets, electrical fixtures, sink, countertops and trim will be installed. Maybe I'll have a new photo to post next week!

fire waiting to happen

Some of the wiring in this house gives me nightmares. There are a few electrical outlets connected with Romex wire and installed in blue plastic boxes and we had 2 GFI outlets installed, but now I'm finding outlets jammed into wood planks without a protective box and there was a fabric-wrapped wire snaking up through a couple of two-by-fours with the light switch inserted into a cutout section of a LOAD-BEARING post. And then I come across something like this that really freaks me. I uncovered this section of bare wire while cleaning out a rat haven of acorn shells and such piled about four inches deep on an inside wall. I was lucky I didn't touch it while cleaning out the rat debris. We've put out cakes of rat poison which disappear quickly so we assume rats or squirrels are absconding with them. Last Saturday we were met with the unmistakeable odor of decomposing bodies. I hope it's rats and not cats.

status update

I haven't been keeping up this blog as planned; it may be more sporadic than I thought, but after spending both my weekend days tearing out boards and sheetrock, I can't work up much enthusiasm to sit at the computer. I'm hoping I will build up some arm muscles, as I'll be able to put them to good use. There's more damage than I expected, but apparently that's to be expected in old houses. Have I already said that? It turned out the ceiling in the kitchen was being held up on one side by a termite-riddled plank and after I removed the plank the ceiling sagged. I finally got to look in the attic and saw the ceiling was being held up only by a couple of two-by-fours nailed weirdly to the rafters, so I'm going to have to pull the ceiling down as well. We had a contractor look at the kitchen and he will probably give us an estimate this Friday. We're just going to have him do the basic construction: moving the wall, insulating the ceiling and replacing the sheetrock, and new wiring. I will apply the texture to the sheetrock, do the painting, and install the cabinets and vinyl floor. It may take a month for me to install the cabinets, but we need to save our money for the things we can't do.

demolition continues

Now I'm getting down to some of the bones of the house. The termite damage extended farther than I expected. It appears to extend upward along 3 studs and then spreads to the left and right when it reaches the kitchen ceiling. The base wall is made of six-inch-wide planks of soft wood and the top two planks were so damaged I could snap them with my hand. In some places the boards were nearly paper-thin. I got most of the damaged boards torn off and now I hope I can save some of the undamaged planking for use elsewhere in the house. Imagine my surprise when I found the wall on the other side of the studs (living room wall) is also planked. It is covered with some kind of mesh-like material that's been plastered over. I can only do about 3 1/2 to 4 hours of work before my arms and shoulders start to give out, so there's at least 2 more days of work before I get this wall torn down. It's also more time-consuming when you're trying to save the wood so it may be three days.

I found yet another layer of wallpaper and an assortment of wiring from different eras including loose wires that I didn't want to touch in case they were live. I hadn't thought to bring a voltage tester with me. A few of these older wires were threaded through the studs via a hollow metal tube. I'm sure I'm going to be finding a lot of code violations. I found one electrical outlet simply jammed into the hole cut into the wood without any kind of box around it.

I got a book by George Nash called Renovating Old Houses: Bringing New Life to Vintage Homes that's already proving useful. Now I may be able to date the old wiring I found to add to my historical as well as my structural info about the house.

Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore...

down to the bare wood

I'm in uncharted territory!

As my minor demolition progressed in the kitchen I started to realize I was going to have to get a different mindset for dealing with this house. This house is truly Old and folks did things differently in The Olden Days. It was one thing to "fix up" my Oak Cliff house, a 1940's tract house built as a single unit with a floor plan laid out in a blueprint; it is quite another thing to work on a house that was created in pieces, beginning in an age that lacked modern plumbing and electricity. I guess I was subconsciously expecting to find 2x4 studs spaced neatly under plasterboard; instead I found these rough horizontal boards covered in layers of newspaper. I haven't determined if these pages came from a newspaper or a magazine as the paper is so brittle it almost disintegrates as it's being handled. I found one small piece of paper with "March 1933" on it, so it seems likely all the layers of wallpaper and burlap were pasted on sometime after that date.

I need information! What should I do with bare wood walls? Should I preserve them and hope they add character to the kitchen or should I just slap on some drywall and make it modern? I'm gonna have to get myself educated, it seems.

yukon do it!

The paste that held everything together has mostly lost its stickum power and I was able to uncover most of a large piece of burlap behind the wallpaper. It was from a 100 pound bag of flour manufactured by Yukon Mill & Grain of Yukon, Oklahoma. I found that by 1915 Yukon Grains was the main business in this small Oklahoma town (current population 21,000) and it received its "official" charter in 1921. The company suffered a series of lawsuits brought by angry stockholders (can't translate the legalese or I'd tell ya why) in the 1940's and was acquired by Shawnee Mills in 1970. So I'm guessing this bag was pasted up sometime between 1921 and 1970.

old photo of the mill from a vintage postcard.
Go to the Yukon Flour Mill for more pics & info on this historic structure.

oh, yeah, as all you CW music lovers probably already know, Yukon is the home of Garth Brooks.

first discoveries

We began work on the house yesterday. We worked outside for a brief time, my mom sawing down an unwanted fig tree which had intermingled with an ancient rose bush and me digging up a few of the many bricks scattered in the yard and piling them neatly next to the fence. It was after 2 pm and the temperature was soaring to its maximum of 103 so it wasn't long before we were overcome and had to retreat indoors. Thank goodness the air conditioner works!

I then began demolition of the kitchen, starting with the small built-in drawer & cupboards on one wall. There was a lot of termite damage to a vertical support which had been concealed by the trim around the door. It was old damage, like that of the joist under the kitchen floor that had been removed just the week before, and my main worry was how far up the damage extended. I found that whoever had constructed the cupboard had used corrugated cardboard for the sides of it. After the trim, shelves and cardboard were removed, I started on the wall. The top layer was a material not quite plaster and not quite drywall. It was about 1/4 inch thick, maybe less, and showed signs of at least 3 layers of paint: white, yellow and dark green. Under this plaster-like material I found the first layer of wallpaper; actually the last layer if you look at it from an archeological point of view. It was an unusual design, not too bad on the eyes, but what was peculiar was that it was apparently pasted to a burlap base made from flour and cornmeal bags. I guess this is how they attached wallpaper in the days before pre-pasted papers were available. Instead of scraping off the old wallpaper, which was probably a nearly impossible chore, folks would paste up a burlap bag so the next layer of paper would have something to adhere to.

My New Baby

Here's a photo of my new house....my new "old" house. This was scanned from something the inspector gave us so it's not as clear as it could be. I've held off posting anything about the house or even telling many people about it as I wasn't sure I was going to get it and I didn't want to jinx the deal. The house was built in 1900 or maybe earlier. It has been empty for the last four years and no one has really cared for it for much longer than that. Now things are looking up for this little abode as I'm hoping to give it the TLC I think it deserves. The foundation has had a lot of work done to it and there's a brand new roof but it will be at least several months before it's really ready for me and my mom to move into it. I'm hoping to keep up a blog about the renovation; maybe I can pass along things I learn.

narciso

Here's a small spider I spotted on the ceramic sill of my bathroom window a few nights ago. The white tile kept glaring back into the lens when the flash went off and although i tried several angles I didn't really expect any shots to come out very well. This image is amazing to me because you can't really see any of the critical spider details with the naked eye. At least not with MY naked eye. I love the huge eyes and the stripes on the legs. I'm pretty sure this is one of the jumping spiders, who have excellently sharp vision. With those eyeballs, i'm not surprised.

I've named him Narciso, after Narcissus, because now that I've photographed him he's migrated over to the bathroom mirror and apparently spends day and night admiring his reflection. I've tried coaxing him away to no avail. Ah, well, when he gets hungry i'm sure he'll seek for prey elsewhere.

Copyright (r) Partridge/Jennings

remnant of a favorite t-shirt purchased at a thrift store in the '80s. I can't believe how many people don't get the pun!

I was inspired by something I found on Stephanie's Snurrhuvud and did my own take on it with one of my favorite bands.

Choose an artist (or band) and answer only in song TITLES by that artist: Morphine
Are you male or female: A Good Woman is Hard to Find
Describe yourself: You Look Like Rain
How do some people feel about you: A Head With Wings
How do you feel about yourself: Test Tube Baby
Describe your ex boyfriend/girlfriend: All Wrong
Describe where you want to be: Top Floor, Bottom Buzzer
Describe what you want to be: Good
Describe what you want: Cure for Pain
Describe how you live: Early to Bed
Describe how you love: So Many Ways
Share a few words of wisdom: Do Not Go Quietly Unto Your Grave

scurius uprising?

There's been talk lately of squirrel frustration.

According to recent reports in the local newspaper, more than a few citizens have become concerned with the unusually high amount of destruction rendered by these bushy red rodents. Incidents of teeth marks on wooden fences, plants unearthed from their pots and contents of said pots scattered about, and mass attacks on bird feeders have advanced rumors of possible revolution against humans. Retribution by homo sapiens has already begun. In an upper class residential neighborhood three dead squirrels were found nailed to a wooden fence. Officials were debating about whether a crime had been committed, as it could not be determined if the squirrels were dead or alive when crucified and in any case, there is no law on the books relating to cruelty against rodents.

Some naturalists attribute the squirrel frustration to the unusually dry weather; we've had only half the amount of rain we normally get in the past year. I think they're pissed because they had a bumper crop of pecans last year and this year they only got acorns.

victory

apologies to my co-workers from Okla- homa....

I don't usually root for football teams, either professional or collegiate, but something about that orange and white longhorn logo from UT just gets me. When I was just a little tyke, knee-high to a grasshopper, as they say, and before my family moved to Texas, I became enthralled by the idea of living here. In fifth grade when my class was studying the individual states of the U.S. I schemed to be the one who got to do their big report on Texas. Unfortunately the state of Oklahoma was included in my assignment and I did next to no work on it. I'll always remember two lines from a poem I found in my first explorations of a research paper (I don't remember where it came from) that colored my perception of the state even to this day.

Other states were carved or born;
Texas grew from hide and horn.

Those Last-Minute Christmas Shoppers are Murder!

Hope you're safe and warm at home.
Happy Holidays to one and all!

Hope Despairs

Today I get the lab results from my blood and urine samples to see if my thyroid or something else may be causing or greatly contributing to my depression. For once I’m hoping I’ll be able to get a prescription for an anti-depressant. As much as I’ve disliked them in the past I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my sanity if I keep spiraling downward. Maybe they’ve invented something that won’t kill my art. It’s a hell of a trade-off - selling your creativity to feel ok. Imagine Van Gogh on Prozac.

puzzle

I’m finding pieces of my life popping up in the oddest places.

My latest enthusiasm is for podcasts. The metal walls and roof of our building at work make it very difficult for radio reception. Listening to baseball or basketball games on an AM station is an impossibility and weaker stations that carry jazz, classical music or NPR are barely audible. Until recently we could get a few internet radio stations on iTunes but the new firewall prevents anything from coming across. So podcasts are a lifesaver. I can get at least an hour or two of NPR via their variety of podcasts and a smattering of music and other stuff that I’ve only begun to explore.

I’m recommending three podcasts this week: LOST, RhinoCast, and Ritmo Latino. Ritmo Latino is, as its name implies, a one-hour program of strictly Latin Music. It may be flamenco, rap, cumbia, or any of a variety of salsas from the Americas, Europe, and beyond. Highly entertaining and energetic – updated weekly and I’ve just begun to listen to the February episodes. You can learn more at RitmoLatino.org

The Lost podcast that I refer to is the “official” ABC podcast, which is mostly discussion by the writers about the writing and production of the show with a few brief appearances by cast members. It doesn’t reveal any secrets, so you won’t miss anything by not listening, but I enjoy hearing about the writers’ creative process. The podcasts started just two weeks ago, and are added each Monday to the iTunes site.

RhinoCasts is, of course Rhino Record Company, notable for re-releasing so much great classic rock’n’roll music that might otherwise have been lost in obscurity. There are ten episodes currently available. The first episode focused on Lowell George, famous for his band Little Feat, and on “Weird Tales from The Ramones”, a new boxed set of Ramones music along with some great comic-book type art. My immediate conclusion was the podcasters were fanatic about their particular subject, so if you like the minutiae of music, this may be for you. I still have 9 episodes to listen to; hope they’re as good. See the Rhino Records site for more great stuff.

orange peel

I’ve developed a penchant for the color orange and it’s creeping, ivy-like, across my walls and floors. Most of my life I never cared much for yellow or orange, but preferred instead to decorate my home with blues and purples. The house I live in now is dark, and I soon despaired at the dark paneled walls of the living area. I tried painting the wood with whites, then pinks, then ochre, and finally covered it with a medium bright yellow. Maybe I like yellow because it gives the illusion of sunshine. Now the oranges are insinuating themselves in the curtains, in the design of the carpet, in accents accompanied by red. More than the feeling of light, it feels like hopefulness.

The holiday season is here, which means I’ll have no time to enjoy it. It’s the beginning of our second-busiest time at work as we prepare catalogs for spring, easter and summer. It’s a sad and sorry situation. We have to produce a certain number of pages to meet a company-set goal but the work comes in waves; we have a few months of almost no work and then we have a few months where the work is almost insurmountable. The work in the peak period can’t be done without all hands working extra hours and/or hiring temporary personnel to help us but the net monetary gain is lost from money paid in extra wages. We have to cut back on personnel and then we have to work more hours. So the holidays are a humbug for me.

freeze, suckahs!

The flamingos cursed their luck. Having finally persuaded the current homeowners by their pinkness that they should rightfully be kept not in the garage but on display for all the world to see as it trafficked by, the foursome were met with the garrulous winds of the first November freeze and found their pinkness sombered by a thin coating of ice. It had taken months to acquire their feted position but in the garage they’d had no concept of time or seasons. All their pink shrimpness was a waste. Junior stuck his head in a rock, protesting their fate.

Next September they’d eat rotten brown bananas.

sign o the time

GO here for my flickr fotos

I'm almost always surprised when I see any anti-bush displays in Dallas.

I've just discovered the Al Franken podcasts on the iTunes site. I recommend the recent episode with guest Bebe Neurith. (take THAT, conservative talkers!)

leafmonster

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

---Thank you, Lewis Carroll


Here’s where you can find the original “Jabberwocky.” There are some translations and parodies of the poem, too. Kudos to any translator who can convey the feeling of the original!

phoebe vs the squirrels

I helped Phoebe spy on the squirrels on Saturday and now she thinks I should be out there all the time….. We have red squirrels which seem to me to be more rodent-like than the grey squirrels I’ve seen in more northerly regions. I don’t know how smart they are, but they seem to love teasing my dog, perching on the birdbath or in the leaves, just out of reach and leaping to safety at the last moment. It drives her crazy. She’s almost cat-like in her patience but has only killed one that we know of. She spends most of her waking hours watching and waiting for them.

It’s a poor year for pecans; hardly any on the tree in our front yard (or the rest of the neighborhood) so the squirrels are extra-active in the oak trees. It’s not the bumper crop of acorns that we saw last year but there’s a good supply. We have a single oak tree in the back yard so it’s easy to watch the squirrels doing their balancing acts while they select the tastiest acorns. Often there are 3 or 4 at a single time, pillaging in all corners of the tree. They have defined trails – they’ll run along the low skinny branch over to the wood telephone pole, then up and over the electrical transformer where they scurry along the wires to the next house. Or they’ll take the higher branch which has so much sway that it gives the air of a trapeze artist in motion as the squirrel swings down several feet and leaps over to a branch extending from the neighbor’s tree.

There are a lot of dead squirrels in the streets. Some of them may have fallen from their wires or branches but the majority have probably been hit by cars. During their seasons of high activity you can see squirrels darting back and forth across streets, playing “tag” with other squirrels, chasing off intruders, pursuing the opposite sex. They have a peculiar habit of running into the street and if a car is coming they freeze for a moment, act as if they will keep running, and then pivot and run back the way they came. As someone who’s nearly killed several squirrels, I can tell you this is a driving challenge. There’s hardly any way to avoid hitting the squirrel unless you can stop immediately. Hard to do that unless you’re on a residential street with no traffic.

what's in YOUR wallet?

Depression brings out the psychic in me…..

I’ve been thinking about the Tarot off and on since I discovered that “Rueda d’la Fortuna” card with the white bear on it and wondered what it had to do with “LOST.” I finally found my old dusty Universal Waite deck and am becoming reacquainted with its metaphoric imagery. What I call “iconography” (or the use of images) was one of my favorite aspects of cultural anthropology. It was so amazing to find that the ancient Paracas civilization on the Pacific coast of Peru used many of the same symbols as the ancient Egyptians. Unless you believe in Atlantis, you might conclude that there’s some kind of universal human interpretation of magical forces.

And reading cards might turn out to be a good party trick, eh?

Here comes another winter...

Of long shadows and high hopes
Here comes another winter
Waitin' for utopia
Waitin' for hell to freeze over

Let the poor drink the milk while the rich eat the honey
Let the bums count their blessings while they count the money

So many people can't express what's on their minds
Nobody knows them, nobody ever will
Until their backs are broken, their dreams are stolen
And they can't get what they want, then they're gonna get angry!
Well it ain't written in the papers but its written on the walls
The way this country is divided to fall
So the cranes are moving on the skyline
Trying to knock down this town
But the stains on the heartland can never be removed
from this country that's sick, sad and confused

The ammunition's being passed and the Lord's been praised
But the wars on the televisions will never be explained
All the bankers gettin' sweaty beneath their white collars
As the pound in our pocket turns into a dollar

--from “Heartland” by Matt Johnson, 1986


Some things never change

info on The The

names & numbers

I’ve been making up little things to do to help get me through my recent bout of depression. I used to carry my camera with me everywhere but suddenly or gradually, I don’t remember, I stopped taking pictures. So now I’m picking it up again a little at a time. Baby steps. Since I don’t have much enthusiasm or creativity right now, I just started shooting what was in front of me, and I’m amassing a collection of address numbers painted on the curbs in my neighborhood. This photo is a one-of-a-kind color combination (so far).

Another idea I had was to list all the nicknames used by Sawyer on “LOST”. I’ve been giggling at them since the day he called Sayid “Mohammed”. Being lazy, or cheap, or clever, I circumvented the necessity of spending money on the Season One DVD and found my project in progress at several LOST chat sites. So I filtered through the discussions and came up with a composite list. I don’t attest to its accuracy or completeness. I also added a few references and links.

KATE
Freckles
Sassafrass
The Mighty Huntress
Woman
Boar Expert
The Belle of the Ball
Sweetheart
Sweetcheeks
Naval Gazing no-fun mopey type

JACK
Doc
Dr. Quinn – Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman
Dr. Do-Right
Jackass
Hero
Saint Jack
Cowboy
Chico
Jacko
Brother
Hoss
Cracker

SAYID
Mohammed
Abdul
Omar
Ali
Al-Jazeera
Boss
Genius
Captain Falafel

MICHAEL
Daddy
Mike (he’s the only one who calls him Mike)

WALT
Short Stack
Short Round – Indiana Jones & Temple of Doom
Opie - The Andy Griffith Show
Tattoo – Fantasy Island - “de plane, de plane”
(some argued it wasn’t Tattoo but instead was Gazoo – the little green genie from The Flintstones)

JIN
Mr. Miyagi – the Karate Kid
Bruce – Bruce Lee
Sulu – Star Trek
Kato – Green Hornet

SUN
Betty

HURLEY
Lardo
Stay-Puft - marshmallow man from Ghostbusters
Pork Pie

CLAIRE
Pregnant Girl
Mamacita
Missy Claire

BOONE
Metro
Boy
Thief

CHARLIE
Sport
Reject from VH1 has-beens
Limey little runt
Has been pop star
MTV has-been


Baby AARON
Baby Huey – comic book duck

MICHAEL & JIN
Han and Chewy - Star Wars

SHANNON
Sticks
Princess

MR. EKKO
Shaft
Mr. Ed – the talking horse

ANA LUCIA
Cupcake
Rambina - Rambo
Ponce de Leon – fruitless exploration to find the fountain of youth

What he calls the “bad guys”
ETHAN -Jungle Boy
PIGGY – the boar
GUY ON BOAT that took Walt - Bluebeard
AUSSIE COP – Croc Hunter

off key

Blackbird
singing
in the
dead
of day

Take this
broken
life
and
learn to play

All your life
You
were
only
waiting for this moment led astray

(apologies to the Beatles)

-

a broken life led astray; that's how my depression makes me feel. It had been dogging me for a few years but I kept it at bay with a large stick and my camera. When I wasn't looking, when I laid down my arms, it crept in and wrapped around my heart. Now just getting out of bed is a difficulty. Almost the only interaction that doesn't feel forced is with my dog. I'm so glad she came to live here.

decide!

Maybe my sense of humor is re-growing itself. I couldn't suppress what almost turned out to be a giggle at the "yes-no-yes-no" juxtapositioning of signs outside my local polling place. Dallas is run by a city manager and for several years the current mayor has lobbied for a "strong mayor" form of government to replace the city manager form. This was the second time in six months there's been a proposition on the ballot. Last time it was soundly defeated. This time there are two predictions by political analysts: it will either be soundly defeated or will win by a hairsbreadth. I know I was debating the issue even as I signed in at the polling place. It wasn't til I got my pen on the ballot that the decision was made.

three piece band

A day late, but here are three of my little esquelitos celebrating Dia de los Muertos.

I’ve been told this Mexican Holiday demonstrates that the Mexican culture is much more accepting of death as a normal part of the life cycle. Anglo Americans tend to want death out of the picture, sanitized with an embalmed and made-up corpse reposing in an expensive silk-lined mahogany casket. Our Puritanical forbears, now present as conservative Christians, have converted the once scary rituals of Hallow’een into a cute and festive cakewalk at the local elementary school.

hallow e'en

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We had a pumpkin decorating contest at work. The Pirate and the Screamer were my personal favorites though neither one received recog-
nition.

Most of us were puzzled by the judges’ decisions. It’s always interesting to see how people will interpret an “assignment” like this but the reaction to the artist’s effort is often more curious than the work itself. Our judges were the people we work for (our customer). In the case of the Screamer pumpkin, the judges appeared to be slightly miffed and they asked the artist if that was how he felt when he was at work (Yes, of course he does; it’s how most of us feel there). The wolf was nicely rendered and was effectively spooky when lit by a candle. It was the first time I had seen Wal-Mart’s jack-o-lantern kit in action. The kit of tiny carving tools comes with a booklet of paper patterns that you tape to your disemboweled pumpkin as a cutting guide.

This pumpkin is mine. My premise was that jack -o- lanterns are supposed to keep away evil spirits and I wanted a really tough battle-scarred veteran who could handle the job. He’s out working on my front porch as I type this.

At work I was awarded the prize for “The Person Most in Need of Therapy”, a slim tome called The Portable Therapist, which I have no doubt will aid and abet me on my way to the insane asylum.

20 things

I've been inspired by Hanna and Maria to be braver about telling my own story, so in that vein, here are 20 random things about me:

I’ve been a vegetarian for ten years.

I never get tired of listening to the Beatles or to Mozart.

I love detective stories.

I’ve battled clinical depression for most of my life.

I’m tone deaf.

I was part of a "Jesus Cult" and lived in their communes for two and a half years.

I rarely make up my bed.

Next year I will be the same age as the year I was born. (53)

Freeway driving terrifies me (I have to do it every day).

I lived in Mexico City for 2 months; spent 2 whirlwind weeks in England, Paris, Scotland and Wales.

I like The Three Stooges.

I have documented part of my family tree to the 1600s – I’m still working on other branches.

I use my cell phone about 3 times a year.

I appeared on a local weekly radio program for eight months as “Desert Rose,” sidekick to “Ranger Rita,” queen of the cowgirls on the “Texas Folk Music Show.”

My last three dogs have been rescued strays.

“Memento” is one of my most favorite movies.

I graduated summa cum laude from college.

I want to move away from the big city, maybe live on a couple of acres, maybe raise a few goats and chickens.

I’ve never bought coffee at Starbucks.

I am a first generation native-born American on my dad’s side.

Autumn is the bite of a harvest apple - Petrowsky

Fall has FINALLY arrived. The monarchs have moved on. The sidewalks are littered with acorns, pecans, and sundry tree droppings. After two months of watching cold fronts being deflected by our unnaturally hot dry weather a front finally burst through to North Texas earlier this week. We have had to turn the furnace on the last two mornings and I am consuming gallons of tea to warm me. Of course we’re wimps here. Forty-four degrees is hardly “cold” but coming so fast on the heels of ninety-plus temperatures it feels cold.

While searching for an appropriate quote about Fall I foundElaine’s Autumn Page, which has some nice poems about autumn. Fall’s my favorite time of year, I think, even though we don’t have the wonderfully colored leaves you see in northern climes. It’s a welcome respite from summer’s inferno and always seems like a beginning to me. Winters are short and not too cold except for those times when a “norther” may blow through and chill us for a week or two. People are preparing their gardens and trees for the brief dormant season because when it starts getting warm again they’ll have to work like crazy to get their seeds planted before the sun comes blazing back.

anatomy of a floor

After five years in this dingy old faux-ranch house I decided I couldn’t stand the carpet in the living area any longer. The key word to describe these houses is “DARK”. The walls of this room are paneled in wood so dark it makes the fireplace the lightest part of the room. I’ve put at least six coats of paint in varying shades of white, pink, or yellow over the paneling in attempts to lighten the room. The floor was another source of irritation. Beige carpet showed all the dirt and anything else was too dark. And so much work to vacuum. It had to go.

Underneath the carpet was the original linoleum that had been glued down almost 50 years ago when the house was built. The yellow sun pattern, which can never have been anything but atrocious, made me wonder what people who built and bought these houses could have possibly seen in it. It had become deeply gouged from innumerable furniture legs, had faded unevenly and was beyond cleaning. I wanted to buy some of those snap-together planks of Pergo or engineered wood to cover the ugly mess and maybe install them myself to save money. (My bad back was protesting at the thought of all the bending that would be required.) Unfortunately the linoleum had been affixed to particleboard, a sure sign of crappy American workmanship. It was deteriorating badly along the door from water that had been tracked in over the years and none of the manufacturers would guarantee flooring installed on top of it.

So I’m having real hardwood floors installed by people who know how install them. A week ago two guys ripped out the old particleboard. What a job! It had so many big nails they had to cut the board into 3 foot square sections as it lay and then pull up a section at a time. When you start ripping out stuff you start finding out what your house is really made of. I got to look at the subfloor and it seemed to be much more poorly done than the “cheap” 1940s tract house I used to live in. This neighborhood was built during a time when pier-and-beam foundations were being phased out in favor of slab foundations and the uneven spacing and wide gaps of the subfloor show how builders in the early 60s had begun to prefer quantity over quality. My floor installers left the original tarpaper or “builder’s felt” on the subfloor a

monarchs of the fall

My spirits have lifted a bit this week with the coming of the butterflies. We are lucky to be on the flight path the monarchs take each year as they journey to Mexico for the winter and many of them stop here to snack & rest on their way. One of my two abelia shrubs was still blooming this week and each morning there were six or eight monarchs and a couple of painted ladies sipping nectar. The little white flowers emit a wonderful fragrance which I imagine to be something like lilacs. (It's been so long since I've been near lilacs in bloom I wouldn't swear to it.) As the coolness of the day dissipated the abelia became host to honeybees and some fuzzy yellow bees about twice their size which I haven't yet identified. The lantanas planted on the other side of the house are currently being frequented by dozens of yellow folded-wing skippers, gulf fritallaries, and pipevine swallowtails.

Depression is a funny thing. It seems like you can't win no matter how you fight it, and then a little something like butterflies can make you feel that just for now everything's ok.

wheel of fortune

OK, the tv show "LOST" is one of my favorite guilty pleasures.

I was looking through some boxes of stuff and found this image: a reproduction of an old Spanish/Gypsy tarot card and it struck me that the writers of "LOST" might have got inspiration from it. I found two of Hurley's numbers: there are 15 spokes in the wheel and 23 lines in the zigzag across the top of the card. But it's really the White Bear that gets me. I wonder what it meant to the people who designed this card.

For more weird LOST stuff check out EGOPLEX, J.M. Berger's web page.

Rain in Ragtime

Rita's Ragtime Rain Raged,
a Purgatory of Rags & Rafters

ragtime: syncopated American popular music

Was is reading Farenheit 451 at a tender age that engendered my loathing for the destruction of books? Or is it something that was engrained in a non-internet generation? I went to Half-Price Books determined to find a book worthy of mutilation and settled on a sturdy compact dictionary published in 1978. It has a hard cover and the signatures seem to be nicely sewn together. I spent part of last weekend methodically ripping out pages according to the method set down by Lisa Vollrath on her web page.

You can see my dictionary after I tore out about half the pages. It turned out just Lisa’s book and I have a stack of pages full of word definitions I can use for many projects. The book seemed to fall open naturally to the letter “R” so I dedicated the two facing pages to Hurricane Rita. I found a number of words that I tied together into sentences and gessoed out the rest. Then I started glueing, stamping, and coloring. I think it has a ways to go before it’s done.

I think I’ll call this book “word play.”

summoned

Dontcha hate seeing one of these in your mailbox? I've been looking forward to this day (ha!) for over a month. I was listed as a "standby juror" on the summons; instead of reporting to the Central Jury Room at 8 a.m. I was supposed to wait until 11 o'clock, call in, and find out at that time if I was needed. I called the number and the recorded message shouted, "You Are Needed Today! Please Report By 1 p.m.!" So I headed downtown through Level Red Pollution and traffic backed up by who knows what. I had to exit at Reunion Arena and was hoping I wouldn't get caught in worse traffic amongst the busses of Beaumont evacuees (I didn't).

I parked in the County Garage, rushed across Industrial Blvd. and climbed the 50 steps to the doors of the Court Building conveniently located next door to the Jail. Winded and sweaty, I thought if Rita had only veered west, this whole neighborhood might've gone under when the levee on the Trinity River failed, and I would have been spared this ordeal. (After the hurrican passed the newspaper published a report detailing this very scenario - a possibility that had conveniently been kept from us citizens prior to the storm.) This was my first visit to the courthouse since 9-11 and the summons had warned me about bringing weapons and explosives into the building so I left them at home and passed through the checkpoint without incident. There were only a dozen or so people in the Central Jury Room and no one at the front desk. A Bailiff beckoned me into an adjoining office and told me they had fulfilled their requirement for standby jurors and I was free to go. I was happy to go, but it cost me $3.00 to park for 30 minutes (reduced rate after having my parking ticket validated), a half gallon of gas, and a day's pay. Justice doesn't come cheap these days!

broken

The Houstonians are winging their way back although from the looks of southbound I35 yesterday it looked to be slow going through Dallas. It's one thing to see the hordes of suitcase-packed vehicles on the newscasts, quite another to see it first hand. I'm glad I was going the other direction.

I'm wondering if life will ever get back to being "normal" again. Will the TXDOT signs that ring the city's freeways ever go back to announcing "Ozone Alert - Try Ride Sharing" instead of "Shelters Full"? We got no rain from Rita and yesterday's high temperature of 102 belied the fact that there had even been a hurricane within shouting distance of the county, yet the repercussions of Katrina & Rita are sure to be felt for a long time. My neighborhood lost electricity for about an hour Saturday when gusty winds sent a tree limb crashing into a power line down the alley, but power was quickly restored thanks to the Dallas Fire Department and TXU. It only takes a few minutes without power to realize how bad the situation is for the folks southeast of us. I had to get back to work yesterday and was worried there might not be any gas but luckily I found some and at a pre-Rita price. At times like these, when I see the long lines of SUV's and 4WD's sucking down 20 or more gallons at a time, I can't help but gloat over my 38mpg vehicle.

waiting for the big one

Were the inhabitants of Galveston blissfully oblivious of the approaching dome of water in 1900? Did they know it was a storm to end all storms as the wind picked up and the sky darkened? Until that hurricane hit, Galveston was equally as important a city as Houston. After nearly being flattened, and losing 8,000 to 12,000 dead from the hurricane, the city never recovered. Of the ten deadliest storms listed at CNN, two have hit Galveston; the big one of 1900 and another in 1915. Both of those are listed as “only” Category 4 storms.

Here’s hoping the folks of Houston fare better than their New Orleans counterparts. Many of us here have friends and family in the Houston area, and so far they seem to be getting out of the area. I’m thankful to be this far inland, away from a direct hit, though we may get flash floods and some tornados. Yesterday it felt like Saturday was an eternity away in time; today it’s rushing towards us. I don’t know if the continual coverage is a blessing or a curse.We’re obsessed with the weather. Everyone’s becoming an expert on hurricanes. Each of us specializes in a peculiar examination of minutiae of the lore of the storm.

Yesterday the weather gurus were citing Matagorda Bay, just south of Galveston, as the likeliest place for Rita to make landfall. Robert Cavalier, Sieur de La Salle made unplanned landfall there in 1684. He was looking for the mouth of the Mississippi, but charts and maps being what they were in those days, he overshot his destination by a good 400 miles and landed instead in Texas. He wasn’t the first to make a great navigational mistake. In 1528, 156 years earlier, Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca landed the remnants of his ragtag crew on Galveston Island. Cabeza de Vaca thought he was much further south and that it would be a short hike to reach a Spanish outpost. Instead it took 18 years traveling west across Texas mostly in bare feet before they met Spanish soldiers in the area of present-day El Paso. (I don’t know why all the movie reviewers thought his sojourn took place in Florida; he spent some time in Florida but his long trek was through Texas. It’s a good movie albeit confusing if you don’t know the history behind it.)

It’s uncertain whether or not La Salle knew where he was, except he knew he was lost. In 1687 he went looking for a French outpost, leaving behind a settlement called Fort St. Louis whose inhabitants disappeared from the annals of history. La Salle was finally murdered by his unhappy followers when he refused to ask directions of a native met on the northward trek. For many years the myth went that he was killed in the area now occupied by the city of Arlington, about midway between Dallas and Fort Worth, but historians more recently conclude his demise actually occurred in Navarro County, some miles southeast of the area. Sorry, Dallas, your history’s just not that interesting.

dreaming of a rainy day

Some more practice from my art journal. I was prepping some pages with crimson and bright yellow and experimenting with ways of washing the pages. I liked these drips that were flicked from the end of the brush; they reminded me of raindrops on windowpanes. I want to learn to draw better, just to be able to sketch a few objects or identifiable landscapes. I'm really taken with Paul Madonna's All Over Coffee. I have been looking at dozens of books at Amazon trying to find one to help a rank beginner. It's probably time for a trip to the bookstore!

I was dreaming of a rainy day until I got the news this morning. The fallout from Hurricane Rita was supposed to bring some much-needed rain and cooler weather to North Texas but Rita is becomingly increasingly sinister with each passing hour. They’re saying Houston’s levees probably won’t withstand a direct hit. At least Houston’s not in a bowl below sea level like New Orleans. Galveston is already evacuating hospitals and nursing homes, the National Guard has been called, and water, supplies, and rescue personnel are being “pre-positioned” across Central Texas. People are taking this hurricane much more seriously than they normally would. I hope this will turn out to be a practice run.

If I ever decide to live along the Gulf Coast, somebody, please whack me in the head with a baseball bat.

In the meantime, these dog days drag on. We just missed the 100 degree mark yesterday but we may get there today. The calendar says the autumnal equinoxe occurs this Thursday at 5:25 pm our time. Every other day I get a catalog from Pottery Barn, which is a sure sign of fall. But these signposts are for some world I don’t live in.

do you believe...

The gray-haired hippie waylaid me just ten feet from the vending machine. After quaffing that too-sweet Dublin Dr Pepper the other day I was craving the bite I knew I could only get from a Diet Dr Pepper. “Do you have just two minutes? I want to ask your opinion about my new bio.”

I looked at the change in my hand and jingled it a few times. This “asking my opinion” was a ploy, I knew, to cut me away from the herd, and it was sure to take more than two minutes, but I could spare five minutes, and the Dr Pepper would be my reward for the politeness.

Alas, it would not be so brief.

“Did you know there’s only one soul?” Oh, no, here we go again with the never-ending proselytizing for some all-time religion culled from endless reading of every bestseller from the last forty years. How can I distract him?

“One sole? Is that why I’m so low, cuz it’s been stomping on me?”
“There’s just one sole”
“I don’t want to talk philosophy.”
“This is not philosophy.”
“I don’t believe in that stuff”
“You don’t believe in philosophy?”
“I don’t believe in soles.”

Unfortunately, I do believe in music, and am now privy to the announcement that his new cd is Now Available at CDBaby.

Twenty minutes later I break away. I now MUST get back to my workstation. I am so distracted, I punch the button for Regular Dr Pepper instead of Diet.

“Where were you?” asks my boss.

hooked on dp

A friend recently found a place in DeSoto that sells Dublin Dr Pepper and he was kind enough to give me a bottle of the sweet elixir. And I do mean sweet! This particular Dr Pepper comes from the Original Dr Pepper bottling plant in Dublin, Texas and they still use Imperial cane sugar, not corn syrup, to make the stuff. You can find more information on this historical Texas beverage at the TexasTwisted site or you might like the Wikipedia version of the story. You can even hear it from the horse's mouth, its own self. I drove through Dublin in May on my way to Big Bend and didn't realize the significance of the signs I saw everywhere: "Dublin Dr Pepper Available Here." I could've stopped and toured the plant, but I didn't realize it was there, and I was in a hurry to go south, to go west, to get away from civilization and into Big Bend.

I'm probably repeating myself, but I was was awestruck and amazed when I watched "In the Heat of the Night" some months back and I saw a classic tall bottle of Dr Pepper standing atop Rod Steiger's desk there in Sparta, Mississippi. That was 1967 and I wondered how much of a curiosity it was for non-Southerners to see a Dr Pepper. I don't really remember seeing Dr Pepper when I lived in the NorthWest in 1963. It wasn't until we moved to Dallas in 1964 that I learned to appreciate an ice cold Dr Pepper on a scorching August day with its beads of icy sweat rolling down that tall straight bottle.

I iced down my Dublin Dr Pepper in high anticipation of a sugar buzz and a wave of nostalgia.

It fell flat. I've been drinking Diet Dr Pepper too long, I guess. The regular stuff just doesn't have the bite I've gotten used to from artificial sweeteners. My tastes have changed. If you like your sugar straight out of the sugar bowl, though, this drink is for you.

accidents will happen

I had an accident yesterday. My neck is stiff and my body feels it’s been dealt a few swift kicks. It’s othing serious but I’m provoked because, as is the nature of most accidents, I never saw it coming. You rarely see it coming.

Webster defines “accident” as (among other things) “an unfortunate event resulting from carelessness, unawareness, ignorance, or a combination of causes” or “an unexpected happening causing loss or injury which is not due to any fault or misconduct on the part of the person injured.”

It is a misfortune, a mishap, a mischance, a collision, crash, wreck, smash-up, crack-up, pile-up, one of the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.” It is odd that so many associated synonyms contain the word “up” when you will most likely be “down” on the floor from a fall, as I was.

What happened was this: I was looking up and measuring some wall anchors attached near the ceiling when someone said, “But look over here at this one,” and I obliged, stepping several feet towards the indicated spot. Suddenly the floor disappeared from beneath my feet and then I was suddenly on the floor with my legs tangled among odd bits of a broken metal fan that had given its life in its effort to throw me over its shoulder and become the best kung fu fighter ever seen in these parts.

It was the oddest sensation. Did I lose consciousness? I don’t remember stepping on the fan; I don’t remember falling; yet no time seemed to have passed between me being upright and me being prone. I was walking and then someone was saying, “Don’t get up,” while my body of its own volition struggled to become erect again. It was then I felt pain in my arms and legs. I must have hurtled headlong and skidded against the industrial-type carpet because I have rug burn the entire length of one arm and leg. I was fortunate not to have landed on concrete.

My body was hurt. My pride was hurt. I walked away afterward and told everyone to leave me alone. I became very angry because there wasn’t anyone to blame.

approach of the equinox

Cooler weather is on the way!


...At last, at long last, just when I think I can't take the heat, the heat that hits you like a blast furnace when you crack open a door to the outside, the heat that settles on your shoulders like a weighty backpack when you walk about, the heat that reflects from the sidewalk into your shoes, there's respite in sight. The night tells me the heat is getting tired. When I leave the warehouse at the approach of midnight the air is lighter than it was last week. The heat's not strong enough to stay attached to the ground once its ally, the sun, sets. The scent of wet earth from the sprinklers is audible now - the heat can't prevent it wafting toward your nostrils and infiltrating your sinus. The thermometer in my car mechanically confirms what my senses feel; it's ten degrees cooler than it was even at 2 a.m. in previous weeks.

Do the squirrels know one of their numbers has been killed by the yellow dog that barks at their taunts as they perch just out of reach in the trees? Their behavior seems less bold; they do not perch so low now, nor do they forage openly on the ground while the dog rests sphinx-like, calculating the distance as the red rodents inch ever farther from their escape route. For now the dog-taunters recede into the branches, invisible but for the half-eaten acorns they let fall to the ground. Soon, though, they will forget, I think, and the game will once more be afoot.

dogs will be dogs

Phoebe’s dog dream came true; she finally caught and killed a squirrel. Sunday night she was unusually hyperactive and didn’t want to come into the house as she usually does. Midnight came and went and instead of curling up on the sofa and drifting into doggie sleep, she haunted the far corner of the back yard between the oak tree and the fence. Yesterday I found she’d been out there guarding her prize, a full-grown red squirrel, apparently killed by a forceful bite to the neck. I can’t say the squirrel didn’t deserve it; they sit out there and taunt Phoebe, almost daring her to try and catch them. I wonder if there’s an inborn enmity between dogs and squirrels. If you think of squirrels as rodents, which they are, it makes a little more sense. In the animal world dogs would be hunters and squirrels would be food.

We always wonder what kind of dog Phoebe might be. The baggy folds of skin around her neck, her color, her blue-spotted tongue and rough coat speak of possible Chow or Shar-Pei heritage. I thought some kind of Bull Terrier because of the broad forehead, thick neck, cat-like paws and her stare. If you’ve stared a Pit Bull in the face you know what I mean. And her neck and shoulders are incredibly strong for a dog her size. The long muzzle, upright ears and herding motions pointed to some kind of Shepherd in her genes. She looks a lot like a Finnish Spitz although the way her ribs show is indicative of a Greyhound or Whippet. Phoebe’s definitely a “mutt”, a “mongrel”, a “mélange” of Dog DNA. She’s a “yeller” dog, the color you get when you mix all the dog colors.

No one knows Phoebe’s past. I got her from a woman who spent much of her time and money rescuing dogs and finding homes for them. She found Phoebe wandering in her wooded Fort Worth neighborhood, nearly blind with eyes caked in gunk from entropion (inverted eyelids) and so skittish and frightened it took nearly an hour to catch her. This woman had Phoebe’s medical needs attended to and she now has “permanent eyeliner,” a dark scar lining the edge of each eye where the vet tucked the lower lids. She was about a year old and had obviously been abused. She would hide under the table when taken to adoption center and I probably wouldn’t have taken her had I known the extent of her neuroses. She’s been here about three years now and remains skittish, but she is a sweet dog and has never tried to bite anyone.

gecko on the ceiling

I seem to find one of these critters either in my house or in the building at work almost every day. I guess they like air conditioning, too. Usually I try to catch them and bring them outside but I couldn't reach this little guy.


Here's an item called "Frequency, Duration, Intensity" about working to meet your goals. It's one of those ideas that's easy to say and hard to do. First you do the thing you want to do more frequently, go from once to twice a week, and keep increasing. Then you increase the duration, or time spent; start with ten minutes, go to fifteen, twenty, etc. And be sure you are focused on the activity while you are doing it. The author suggests you "avoid distractions" and "don't multitask." Easy to say. Hard to do.

slump

After three days off I've caught up on some lost sleep even though I've been frazzled by frustration and anger and sadness for the folks of New Orleans. End of summer is always a bit of a letdown even though it means our long hours at work will be done with. I'm just tired of work, tired of the heat, and tired of the misery I see on tv. If our work schedule was a more gradual process it might be different but once we start accelerating it's like stomping down on the gas until the needle rattles and flies off the speedometer and we can't control the vehicle, and then just as suddenly someone stomps the brake pedal and we screech down the asphalt still out of control until we spin and slide and grind to a halt in a cloud of dust. Now all we can do is sit and wait for the dust to clear and wonder if we can open the door and walk away.

It's a holiday for many people today but I'll be working. We're now on 8-hour shifts and in one week will say "goodbye" to all our freelancers and go back to our regular schedule. It's not too soon for me although I will miss the night-time nature walks around the warehouse seeing Pepe and Paco and all the other skunks and bunnies and possums.

At least I've still got squirrels to watch in the daytime. They've become very active again and drive my dog, Phoebe, crazy. They sprawl on a limb just out of reach and stare at Phoebe's frantic efforts to reach them. It seems to me there are many more pecans falling than normally do at this time of year and green acorns of all varieties are falling, too. It's at least a month too soon. We are seven inches behind in rainfall, so maybe that's why.

the refugees still need help!

Dallas Makes a Desperate Plea for Help

Many residents have escaped the hellhole at the Superdome but I’m afraid they are still facing a long hard road towards just getting a place to sleep. Texas cities are trying but we don't know what to do.

I AM SO ANGRY! There's still no response from FEMA or other federal or state agencies for supplies to help Texas cities deal with the influx of refugees. No Coordination of resources. Bush’s Teflon buddy, Governor Rick Perry, follows in his mentor’s footsteps. He likes to talk but can’t produce results.

Excerpt from The Dallas Morning News posted at 1:30 pm Saturday
Full story Here

Cheryl Sutterfield-Jones, CEO of the local Red Cross, said the agency does not have enough cots even for those arriving at Reunion Arena, the city's primary evacuee center.

"We are certainly overwhelmed," she said. "We have no resources. If (another) city wants to open a shelter, we will pay for the food. This is an unprecedented event for our city, our state, for our nation. The focus is on keeping them safe and getting a roof over their head."

The state has also failed to make good on its promise of cots and blankets for the city's shelters, (Mayor Laura) Miller said.

"I'm amazed at the lack of help we're getting," the mayor said. "The state has done zero to help us, the governor has done zero to help us – besides coming here for a photo op."

wake for new orleans

wake for new orleans 1

The stronger swimmer reached the edge of the dry patch of land but the second, less proficient, was having to fight the swift, deep current to make headway. Suddenly they saw her throw up her hands, clutch wildly at the air and disappear beneath the water.

A work born of frustration: I need turn turn away from the unending stream of images before I get sucked in by the undertow.

Things will never be the same.

change

I'm sick from watching the destruction and hearing Dubya talking out of both sides of his mouth. It's sweltering here; it was still 91 degrees outside last night as midnight approached. It can't be much better in New Orleans, and without water... well... Somebody, please, get those people out!

I had to detour through town last night due to construction and in the nearly traffic-free area next to Love Field I saw Southwest Airlines billboard: "Just Say N'Orleans." The pun isn't funny, now.

About 3000 evacuees from the Superdome have arrived in Dallas with about 6000 more expected by nightfall and 15,000 still to come. The city's only been able to find space for about 10-12,000 people and I'm hoping other cities in the area will lend a hand. There are already tens of thousands that came here before the storm hit and were able to rent rooms in motels or hotels. It's ironic that a city who doesn't know what to do with its own homeless population should suddenly become home to such a vast number of displaced people.

Many evacuees interviewed by local reporters here say they won't go back and are already enrolling their kids in local school districts. The Dallas ISD said those kids could start attending classes on Monday, but I think someone forgot Monday is a holiday. It looks like the face of Dallas, and Texas, too, is going to change. No one expected this.