Caroline Kennedy Affair?

The Dallas Morning News had not arrived by the time my morning coffee had.

The lack of a newspaper had me laying on the floor reading that book I've mentioned earlier, that being "Sons of Camelot: The Fate of an American Dynasty." It's a good book. I had no idea how bad the behavior was of some of Bobby and Ethel's offspring.

I remember John Jr.'s infamous photo in his magazine George were he posed as Adam, nude, with an apple above his head and chastised two of his cousin's, Michael the Statutory Rapist, and Joe, as, "Poster Boys For Bad Behavior." The Poster Boys For Bad Behavior is the chapter I read this morning.

However, despite currently reading this book about bad Kennedy behavior, I'm still not quite able to believe this morning's fresh Kennedy scandal. That being that the actual reason Caroline Kennedy withdrew her bid to replace Hillary Clinton in the U.S. Senate, was that she'd been told if she didn't withdraw, her supposed affair with New York Times publisher, Arthur Sulzberger would be exposed.

The alleged affair has been reported on Fox News and MSNBC. Sulzberger is in the midst of getting a divorce after being married to Gail Gregg for 33 years. Caroline is married, with children, to Ed Schlossberg.

That's a photo of Sulzberger above.

HOT Hiking January Tandy Hills Day In Cowtown

We're in the 80s today, this 22nd day of the New Year, in Texas, in what some British newspaper called the United States of Obama.

The check I mentioned in a blogging earlier about the Post Office, showed up today. I got it on my way to the Tandy Hills around noon. That's today's view of beautiful downtown Fort Worth. This view is actually from a vantage point outside of the park, out in the zone where all the broadcast towers are.

On the way out of the park I saw that someone had dismantled the Tandy Hills Shrine, removing it from the trail and tossing it all in the grass. I was appalled at this senseless destruction of a living piece of ever growing guerrilla art. It can and shall be rebuilt.

But not today. I was in a hurry to get the hiking done.

Being an exercise addict is not all it's cracked up to be. It's like an annoying addiction. If I don't get my fix, I don't feel good. It's a living hell having a monkey like this on your back. I don't know how to get the monkey off my back. There are no 12 step programs that I'm aware of. There should be, because there are a lot of people out there, like me, with this addiction.

I took the Island Girl to the airport. Again. This morning.

A couple hours later, I got a call from Miami asking if I am mad at her. Then another from San Juan with the same question. I'm expecting a 3rd call from Ponce with the same question. The answer is "Duh." I let the calls go to voice mail.

I'm heading out in this blistering heat, again, to head north to Washington Mutual, then further north to Sprouts Farmers Market. I have room for one passenger in my vehicle if you want to come along.

Problems With The United States Postal Service

Up til recently I thought people who complained about Post Office competence were being totally unfair. With me thinking the Post Office does an amazing job of delivering so much stuff.

Up til recently, as far as I knew, I'd never not received something sent to me, or had someone not receive something I'd sent.

But, in the past several months I've had 2 packages not properly delivered. In that the mailman leaves a note saying that he was sorry he was unable to deliver. The note tells you to sign it if you want to have another attempt to deliver made. Or pick it up yourself.

I've tried the 'sign the note for another delivery attempt' option before. The note just stays in my mailbox. Ignored.

My mail room has a separate area for parcel deliveries. The mailman is supposed to put the package in a parcel box and leave the key in my mailbox. Apparently that is extra work and it's easier to leave a note.

I called my local postmaster to complain. I was told the problem was chronic and that he was old school which took pride in doing the job right, but a lot of the new younger mailmen were slackers.

About a month ago I learned someone had mailed me a package with around $250 worth of stuff inside. What stuff, I don't know, she wouldn't say. When I was asked if I got the package it was already a month since it had been mailed. It's now been another month. No package.

Calling the Post Office, now, I get an answering machine. I don't know how I managed to get the Postmaster on the line the previous time I called to complain.

And now this morning I learned that a check I've been expecting had been mailed to me, at my P.O. Box. It is a large check. I have not seen it. This vexes me.

High Tandy Hills Hiking Temps, Big Mammal Encounters, Tootsie Tonasket & The Island Girl Returns

That's the view from the Tandy Hills, a couple hours ago, at about 4 in the afternoon, looking west towards downtown Fort Worth and Interstate 30. It was 75 when I went hiking. We are in the 70s the next several days.

The picture was taken with my miraculously brought back from the dead camera. It remains alive.

I was in the Tandy Hills zone in the late afternoon due to agreeing to deliver a party, who insists on not being talked about in my blog, to a doctor's appointment. The appointment was supposed to take about an hour. Which meant I hiked for about an hour.

I had a scary encounter with a large mammal in one of the more isolated areas of the park. I heard loud noises, I first thought it was an armadillo, which I've never seen in the Tandy Hills, but I'm well used to the noise they make as they rut about for bugs to eat. I hear them all the time at Indian Village Creek Natural Historic Area.

As I got closer to the source of the noise I knew it was not an armadillo, it was too loud. I began to be concerned it might be one of those wild hogs I've read about.

And then I saw what it was. A man clearing some brush. We exchanged a few words and then my phone rang.

It was Tootsie Tonasket wanting to tell me the latest chapter in her soap opera. The short version is she had her son arrested on outstanding warrants. The son had been getting drunk and threatening Tootsie. Tootsie's husband has moved out to his own rented house a few houses from Tootsie's. The son moved in with his dad. And now is in jail. There were more details but I can't remember them, due to my attention deficit disorder problem. Or blessing.

Tomorrow I once again deliver an Island Girl to the airport for a sober return to the land of her birth. I enjoy the early morning jaunts to the airport. Why? I do not know.

My Olympus Camera Has Come Back From The Dead

A few days ago I blogged about dropping my Olympus camera, breaking it, and my search for a new camera, with the 2 finalists being an Olympus waterproof, drop damage resistant, weather proof camera and a top-rated Canon.

So, yesterday I picked up my damaged Olympus, thinking I'd take out the rechargeable batteries. But, before I did that, for some reason, I thought I'd try to turn the camera on again.

It came on as if nothing had happened to it. I took a picture as if nothing had happened to it. After I'd dropped it there was a real bad grinding noise when the camera tried to open. The display would not light up. Pushing on the shutter button did nothing.

I can only speculate why the camera is back working. Here I was going to buy a new Olympus, that was supposed to be harder to break. But apparently my, once more alive, current Olympus, has some sort of magical repair itself ability.

Or maybe when I dropped the camera some part of the inner mechanism was wrenched out of alignment, but held in tension by a spring, or something. Then while sitting idle the tension slowly put whatever had wrenched out of alignment, back into place.

I'm going with the magical repair itself option. We'll see how long the newly healed camera continues to work. It likely is a temporary return from the dead.

Are You In With Starbucks Free Coffee Call For National Service?

Minutes ago I was doing the secret behind my flexible, youthful body, that being yoga on a big inflated ball. I listen to the radio while I do this.

There was a new Starbucks ad that struck me as, well, wrong. While seeming to be altruistic.

The Starbucks ad said Starbucks was getting behind President Obama's Inaugural Speech call for community service by joining forces with something called HandsOn Network.

Starbucks is suggesting the good citizens of America answer their new President's call for service by giving up 5 hours a week to community service.

And, if you do your 5 hours between Wednesday, January 21, as in today, and Sunday, January 25, Starbucks will reward your good service by giving you one free cup of coffee. Not a Frappaccino, not a Mocha, not any of those other fancy coffee drinks Starbucks sells, that I've seldom bought, even though I'm from the coffee mad Seattle zone.

Directly from Starbucks...

How to Participate at Your Local Starbucks

Visit Starbucks:
You can join the “I’m In” campaign, part of the Starbucks™ Shared Planet™ commitment to community involvement, when visiting a local participating Starbucks beginning Wednesday, Jan. 21 (and continuing through Sunday, Jan. 25). Stop by the “I’m In” display featuring community pledge cards, pick up the card, and fill it out with your five-hour commitment to volunteer.

Pledge Five:
Place the “I’m In” sticker from the pledge card on your lapel, signifying your pledge, and take the card with you as a reminder to keep the effort going. As a thank you, each customer who pledges five hours of their own time will receive a complimentary tall cup of brewed coffee.

Track Success:
Customers can log on to pledge5.starbucks.com to record pledge hours, find local volunteer opportunities via the HandsOn Network, track hours pledged-to-date, and receive updates on the campaign."

I don't know, maybe this is Starbucks doing a good thing. But something about it struck me as sort of a cheesy marketing ploy. I think if the ad had simply said Starbucks had allied itself with the HandsOn Network and were encouraging people to volunteer, suggesting people go to Starbucks' website for info on how to volunteer. And not had the free cup of coffee thing if you do your 5 hours in the next 5 days, then it would have seemed like a totally altruistic thing.

Or if Starbucks pledged some monetary donation to some good cause for every 5 hours of community service, that would have seemed like a good thing.

But the idea of doing 5 hours of community service and going into a Starbucks to get a cup of coffee for free, well, I might do the 5 hours, but I wouldn't bother with the coffee.

I remember years ago, Burger King had a promotion where you got a free Whooper if you'd go to the counter and say "Whopper beat the Big Mac." I was able to get myself to do this once. But something about it was embarrassing to me. Even though I actually do think the Whopper beats the Big Mac.

Now, I'm off to do 5 hours of community service so I can get a cup of coffee...

Public Airport Intoxication: Part Two, The Seinfeld Moment

Well, I really had me a day, yesterday. A totally absurd day. The most absurd part was a Seinfeld moment, well minutes, that had me running for 45 minutes, covering miles of two D/FW Airport parking garages. I'll get to that later.

So, you may remember, yesterday I took someone to the airport who proceeded to get arrested and jailed for public intoxication.

The party in question was heading to an island in the Atlantic, where the arrestee's 83 year old mother was going to pick her up.

So, the arrested was quite panicked as to how to let her mother know not to go to the airport. Several calls were made from the jail cell to various people trying to get the recipient of the call to call the mother. However, the cell connection from the cell was so bad, no one could make out much of the calls. And I don't speak Spanish. So, how could I call the mother.

At some point the arrestee was able to get ahold of someone on the island and told that person to tell the mother that the arrestee was sick. The person on the island somehow then told the mother that the arrestee was sick and in the hospital. Which is sort of true if you stretch poet license to its limits.

I got the number of the jail. Called, explained the situation. I'd been getting constant phone calls from the arrestee. Little of which I could understand. The jailer said he'd put the arrestee on a land line. Before that could happen the arrestee called again. I said I'd head that way and see if I could cause a release to happen.

The jail is not inside the airport. It's on a side road to the east about 3 miles from the main airport freeway. I found the jail. I talked to the jailer. He said the arrestee had not sobered up, under the legal limit, almost 9 hours after the arrest. I was appalled.

The jailer put the arrestee on a jail phone. I felt like I was in a prison movie. The arrestee was in a panic, worried her mother would have a heart attack thinking she was in a hospital. The arrestee begged me to get her out of there. I said I'd see what I could do.

I talked to the jailer, asked if the almost sober arrestee could be released to me. He said he'd go check on the current condition. He came back and said he could release the now sober arrestee.

It took a half hour to process us out of there. That is when it was learned that the 3 pieces of carry-on bags and a jacket, were back inside the airport.

The jailer gave me a number to call to make sure the items were there. I got an answering machine. The jailer told me Lost and Found was in the C2 section of the C terminal. I'd dropped the drunk off at C31 that morning. C31 is a long ways from C2. It's a big airport.

While I was trying to call Lost and Found the newly released jailbird called her mother. The cell phone had a good connection once it was out of the cell. I don't know what cover story was told the mother. I didn't care at that point.

So, we head back into the airport. I easily park right across from C2. I barged the line at the ticket counter and asked the agent where Lost and Found is. Right behind us, through security, she said. So, we had to show our driver's licenses and she printed up what looked like boarding tickets.

I was not happy having to go through security. I hate that part of flying. And I was not prepared for it. As in I was wearing baggy pants held up by a belt. But I made it through with only one slight moment where it would have been embarrassing. I was going commando, also with no socks.

I started to feel like I was in an Amazing Race episode. I found Lost and Found. Explained the situation. The Lost and Found lady, Tiffany Washington, said that type stuff is not brought there. I used my considerable powers of charm, and Tiffany made a lot of phone calls and located the missing items. They were back at baggage claim for C31.

We went back to my van, left that parking garage and headed for the C31 parking garage. Unlike C2, the C31 entry level was full, so I go to the next level, then the next. Find a spot, park, hurry to the C31 baggage claim. We find the stuff behind a locked door. A lady opens it. All is there but the jacket.

We grabbed the stuff and hurried out of there. Crossed over to the parking garage. I quickly walked to where I thought the van was. It was not there. I was totally baffled. We walked around for a bit, re-traced steps, all to no avail.

I then told the recently drunk one to stay put and I'd run through the garage. I proceeded to do so. It was sort of fun. I was told later I looked like a cartoon character. I thought I had checked out every possible location in that garage. So, I ran to the next garage. I quickly figured out, after running through 2 levels, that there was no way that could be the location.

Ran back to the C31 garage. Found the freshly sober one, who had asked an airport employee for help and was given a number to call where they'd send someone to drive you through the garages looking for your vehicle. I thought that sounded ridiculous, but I took the number.

I said to the sober one, I think I made a mistake, thinking we'd had to go up, to find my van, but then I remembered that when I left the full level, the road went downhill, before re-entering the parking garage.

So, I ran down a level, then another. I was pretty sure I was on the right track, but I was calling that rescue number anyway. As I hit option #1 on the phone tree, I spotted my van.

I called the arrestee/jailbird/drunk/sober one and said stay put, I'll be right there.

It was an uneventful drive back. 121 had backed up 183, so I exited at 157 and took a right on Trinity Boulevard to get back here with no more traffic jams.

The starved arrestee/jailbird/drunk/sober one had not eaten, so I drove through Jack in the Box, then back to her place, where I hauled up the baggage and poured the rest of the liquid, that had caused the trouble, down the drain.

I needed a good symbolic gesture.

And then I was out of there. 20 minutes later I got a call telling me she found the missing jacket, stuffed into one of her bags.

What a happy ending to a sad, sordid, pathetic story.

Today's Obese Outhouse Joke

Regarding yesterday's incident where an intoxicated wannabe flier was not allowed to fly, but was instead allowed to spend the day in the airport jail, well, Gar the Texan opined regarding the absurdity of being so harsh with someone who is a tad tipsy, due to the tipsiness potentially presenting a hazard to the other fliers once they are in the air and facing some potential problem, where it'd be best if everyone were stone cold sober.

While at the same time, an obese person, who it would logically seem might present just as much a safety hazard, if not worse, to their fellow fliers in case of an emergency, is allowed to fly. Sometimes after having to purchase a second seat to hold all their girth.

As usual, Gar the Texan, with his extremely highly evolved thought processing, seems to be making a valid point.

I truly would not want to be seated next to either a drunk or an extremely obese person. Either would be uncomfortable and a potential safety hazard, particularly if I had the window seat, in both an emergency and a restroom call.

The Hazards Of Public Intoxication At D/FW Airport

That is the morning view of part of the enormous Dallas/Fort Worth Airport. Or, as Fort Worth would prefer it to be called, Fort Worth/Dallas Airport.

I was there this morning, real early. To deliver a person flying out of the country.

On the way to the airport the person flying was consuming a liquid beverage. I thought it was some liquid breakfast of some sort.

But, by the time we got to the terminal I began to think that the liquid breakfast had a high alcohol content. It was so early in the morning I thought there was no way the person flying would be drinking a liquid breakfast with a high alcohol content.

I got the person flying through the terminal door and I was on my way home.

About 5 minutes after getting back here, that'd be about 15 minutes since I left the airport, I got a call. The person flying had been stopped from getting on a plane, charged with public intoxication and brought to the airport jail to sober up. I really was not able to understand much of what the person flying was saying.

So, I called back. A man answered. It was the jailer. The phone had been taken away from the person flying. He told me the person flying was going to be held until sober and a fine was paid.

Hours later, the jailer must have returned the phone to the person flying, because I got a garbled, bad connection call, asking me to call the person flying's mother to tell the mother the person flying was sick.

I reminded the person flying that I do not speak Spanish and even if I did, telling the mother that the person flying was sick would likely worry the mother more than the person flying not showing up at the appointed time.

About an hour back I got another call. Another bad connection.

An hour or so later, another call, this time I could make out that the fine had been paid. $210. And that the person flying would be released in an hour or so.

I then called the jail for directions. The jail is not at the airport.

I guess I'll head that way, but I'm in no big hurry to rescue the person who was formerly flying.

So, that's been my day. Up at 3am, dealing with public intoxication. And now another trip to the airport zone.

I need to find a better class of persons flying to deliver to the airport. I delivered Gar the Texan to the airport once. I don't think he was drunk.

Seeing West & Clear At The Fort Worth Omni Convention Center Hotel

The best Fort Worth blog, about Fort Worth, that I've seen, definitely isn't mine. The best that I know of is called West & Clear. So named after the two like named forks of the Trinity River, which become one on the north end of Downtown Fort Worth.

A rather scenic confluence that will be obliterated if the Trinity River Vision ever becomes clear.

Awhile back I verbalized my disdain over Fort Worth's new Omni Convention Center Hotel.

West & Clear are fans of the new building. They verbalize their appreciation of the new Hotel here. They also mention my disdain for the Hotel.

I've not seen the inside of the new Hotel. I probably will like it when I see it. My only problem with the building is all those huge balconies sticking out from the sides that look like scaffolding from the distance. To my architecturally untrained eyes they look goofy. And dangerous.

Other than that, I like the look of the building, the way it matched sleek modern tower with the stone-faced non-tower part. The shape looks slender, vulnerable in the wind, like a sail on a ship.
If only someone had said no to those balconies. I fear someone will fall from one. Or jump. Or drop something, injuring someone below. Causing a lengthy closure, like what happened after drownings in the Water Gardens, while a fix to the dangerous balconies is found.

I hope I'm wrong.