There it went...

My birthday was last week. I certainly hope you took advantage of the chance to give to those less fortunate. If it slipped by you, I accept retroactive acts of giving.

Thank you for calling time and temperature

It was cold this morning. No...I mean REALLY cold. I met up with a friend at the Laughing Goat coffee shop before work. He told me that he'd just called time and temperature earlier and it said that it was only 4 degrees!That was his point--that it was only 4 degrees. That's REALLY cold. But I replayed his words to make sure I heard him right. "You called time and temperature?" I asked, incredulously. "Sure," he said. "No kidding?!" I said. He didn't get the significance. Thing is, I couldn't believe that was still around. When I was a little kid, my mom used to use the time and temperature line as a bribe: "If you're good, I'll let you dial time and temperature." A cheap strategy, but one that didn't cost her a dime and, for a single parent, was an easy motivation and diversion.

In my hometown, my aunt Effie used to supply the voice to the recording. That made her kind of a local hero, supplying all sorts of dinner conversation. Being pretty naive and a bit given to the surreal, I used to think she just sat there in this little telephone booth all day. The phone would ring, she would dutifully check the clock and the thermometer on the wall then answer the phone in her perky little voice, giving the caller all the pertinent details. I used to wonder why she never said "You're welcome, Clint" or "Hey, saw your mom at JCPenney yesterday," but I just guessed she was the meteorological equivalent of those British soldiers who aren't allowed to talk, the ones who stand in front of Buckingham Palace. She was like that, but without the big furry hat. I don't think she wore a furry hat. After a while, I stopped trying to talk back to her, and just appreciated her filial restraint, and devotion to the process.

So, my friend gave me the number this morning (303/443-1910, by the way). I'm going to save it in my cell phone under "Comfortable Things That Mostly Stay the Same", if that'll fit. I'll call it on days I need a centering, to remember that some things do stay the same...sort of.

"Thank you for calling time and temperature, sponsored by First National Bank of Brownwood. The time now is---7:02 a.m.---The temperature is---4---degrees Fahrenheit. Have a good day and remember-for all your banking needs, choose First National Bank--the people's bank."

Thanks, Aunt Effie. Nice hat.

Ow, wow...again!

My birthday's in 11 days!

:O)

Love is the Greatest Revenge

www.tremolomusic.net/
How sweet!

Food for thought and choking on:

"Is art entertainment?
Art teaches us about who we are.
Entertainment tells us who to be.
Art is a public service.
Entertainment is a private product.
Art opens our minds.
Entertainment thinks for you.
Art is publicly offered.
Entertainment is publicly traded.
Art is the words we wish to say,
but lack the language to say it."

-Justin Dillon
lyricist of the band Tremolo

Atticus Finch

Heroes. The word conjures all sorts of ideas in peoples' heads, from Spider Man and Batman to firefighters and family pets. My hero has always been my grandfather. This may be partly due to the fact that he died just before I ate whatever it is that adolescents eat that make them go crazy, cynical, and good-for-nothing for about 10 years. Either way, my grandfather was and still is the Platonic Ideal . I knew there was a bullet-proof cape under those pinstriped farmer's overalls, and that his Red Man chewing tobacco had magical properties. He could read the minds of strangers and kin alike, still raging Texas thunderstorms, calm the most horrible of my grandmother's tirades, get any tractor unstuck from mud with his bare hands, and could harvest more hay in one afternoon than all the other neighbors put together. In short, my grandfather had only enough flaws to keep him balanced securely between man and Titan. This is the way it's always been, and this is the way it is to this day. So how is a fictional character created by a cantankerous Southern recluse stepping into the same light as grandpa? Simple. Atticus Finch and my grandpa are juxtapositions and cross references of one another. Shades and compliments. Sunrises and sunsets meeting in a blazing midday light and heat. There's more...

On belay, with a bottle

http://view.break.com/158118
Check this out, Bri!

As a guy who really hopes his daughter comes to realize the beauty and allure of rock climbing, here's a video that makes his imagination run wild!

That's all, from just a guy.