Bald Is Beautiful?

Tootsie Tonasket insisted she wanted to see a picture of the new, bald me. What Tootsie wants, Tootsie gets.

I'm looking almost as grumpy as I'm feeling.

It's been less than 24 hours since I balded myself. So far I'm liking being bald. I was hoping going bald would have me looking like I belong on Prison Break. Instead I'm thinking I'm looking like a bad John Locke clone on LOST.

This is definitely the worst thing I've done to my hair in years. Almost as bad as early in this century when someone convinced me it would be fun to be blond. She told me I would be a dark blond. Instead I was the color of a very bright banana. The banana was remedied fairly easily. But I was not happy about the entire experience.

I have no one to blame but myself for the current follicle challenge. I prefer having someone other than myself to blame when something does not go quite right. Maybe I'll take a daily picture of my baldness slowly ending, like that cool video of that guy who walked across China that I blogged about earlier in the month.

I'm out of here in a bit. Talk to you later.

Accidental Baldness & Tandy Sanity

It is coming up on 2 in the afternoon. I have not blogged today. And no one has emailed or called asking if I'm okay. I've got too many other things on my mind to worry about why no one any longer cares if I'm okay.

I really was not okay by mid-morning. By noon I desperately needed that melancholy antidote known at the Tandy Hills Natural Sanatorium Area. It was very breezy today, so there was a good wind chill factor going on.

I saw yet another new wildflower today. A delicate looking one, like a little orchid.

Note in the picture how green it is here. I've been told that Western Washington has turned brown. It was brown when I was up there last summer. Unless some method is found to turn the west side back green, Washington is going to need to re-think that Evergreen State nickname.

So, what stupid thing did I do today, you're sitting there wondering. Well. I have a hair clippers. I thought to myself, how hard can it be to give myself a crewcut? Gary Hart was known for cutting his own hair, and he and I have so much in common, I figured I could do it.

It started off fine. I had the clippers set to a half inch. But, I soon found there are skills involved in operating such machinery that amateurs do not possess. Though the clippers were set to a half inch, a half inch is not what happened when the clippers hit a curved area.

After that disaster I decided to go for a buzz cut. How hard could that be? About an hour later my head looked like a cat with mange. I decided to give up on the clippers. I figured I'd shave myself bald. I've wondered what I'd look like bald and this now seemed a good opportunity to end the wondering.

I had my head all lathered up with shaving cream. And started shaving. This did not work. I took a shower to get the mess off my head.

It was hopeless

I had to call for help. Scissors were used to clip off some of the mange. And then the clippers, eventually, were able to do their buzz cut thing. All in all I'm pleased with the outcome and I don't think I look ridiculous at all. But I won't be going out in public without a baseball cap on for a few weeks.

It was great hiking bald today. I don't consider the Tandy Hills a public place, because I see so few humans there, except for the homeless guy who lives in a tent. He's added furniture since I first mentioned the Tandy Tent.

There you have it, Saturday, so far, in this hell I'm living in Texas.

Mark Twain, A Black Panther, Kay Granger, Trout Fishing & Fort Worth Light Rail in Trinity Park

That is Mark Twain reading a book and looking at the Trinity River in Trinity Park today around noon. Vandals had vandalized Mark with graffiti.

I don't know why there is a statue of Mark Twain in this location. Did he visit Fort Worth? He wandered all over the west and wrote stories about what he saw. I'm sure if he ever saw Fort Worth he would have written a story that used this town's many quirks as story fodder. Maybe Fort Worth was not so quirky back in Mark Twain's time.

I think I've mentioned previously that Fort Worth has some nicknames. It is known as Dirty ol' Town, Cowtown and Panther City. I forgot the Panther City nickname the last time I mentioned Fort Worth nicknames. Why Panther City you can't help but wonder.

Well, way back early in the last century a Dallas newspaper reporter was in Fort Worth. When he got back to Dallas he wrote that Fort Worth is so lifeless that he saw a panther sleeping on the courthouse stairs. At first Fort Worth was quite upset at this latest horrible Dallas slander. But then people decided to embrace the sleeping panther.

Well, today while in Trinity Park I spotted a lazy black panther who posed politely for pictures. He did not seem too menacing.

Near Mark Twain I did see something a bit menacing. A plaque dedicated to Congresswoman Kay Granger. On the plaque it says...

"This View Is Dedicated
To Her Love And Vision For The
Trinity River
Play, Work, Learn, Live"

Well, Ms. Granger did have the vision to see that the Trinity River Vision Boondoggle would provide an excellent job opportunity for her son. And she had the vision to know that no one in Fort Worth would object to such nepotism, because it's the Fort Worth Way. The special way only Fort Worth operates.

Apparently it is safe to eat the fish you catch in this section of the Trinity River. You have to have a license and you are limited to 5 rainbow trout per day.


That is Fort Worth's only light rail transit train above. I believe the transit line runs from Trinity Park to the Fort Worth Zoo. And back. Over and over again. All day long.

Overcoming Melancholy By Getting Married & Having A Baby

Yesterday I mentioned I am reading a book the Queen of Wink sent me to make me melancholy, Ghost Riders: Travels On The Healing Road by Neil Peart.

Neil Peart is in a Canadian band named Rush. I remember the band name. I remember no Rush songs.

Neil Peart lost his daughter, Selena and wife, Jackie, within one year. That pushed him into deep mourning. To break out of his sadness he hit the road on his BMW motorcycle, biking over 55,000 miles. By the time his ride was over he was ready to rejoin Rush.

I've ridden with Mr. Peart as far as Vancouver Island now. Starting with 100 Mile House in British Columbia he has been riding on roads I am familiar with.

I was curious about the current moment status of Neil Peart. So, I Googled him. And Rush. Wikipedia has a long article about Rush, complete with song samples that would not play for me. There is also a long article about Neil Peart. Soon after he completed his motorbike journey, on September 9, 2000, Neil Peart married a photographer named Carrie Nuttall.

What a great last name. Nuttall.

In June of 2009 Peart announced the upcoming arrival of a baby. Sounds like he has overcome his melancholy.

My Favorite Aunt & Red Hot Mama

I was worried about my favorite aunt. She never misses a birthday. A card and letter always shows up, either the day before or on my birthday. This year the card showed up at the P.O Box, today, 3 days late.

About half the time the cards are mountain bike themed. This year it was bike themed, but not mountain bike.

The mountain bike reminds me I have still not fixed mine. It's been so long it does not cross my mind anymore to go on a bike ride. This must be what senility is like.

I got 4 messages this morning telling me I should become friends with Red Hot Mama. Then a 5th person asked me who Red Hot Mama is. I said I had no idea. She then told me that Red Hot Mama is one of my Facebook Friends. I looked at my Facebook Friends and saw no Red Hot Mama. I know a couple Hot Mamas, but I don't think I know any Redheads.

It's perplexing.

I am going to go see Mark Twain by the Trinity River some time after noon today. That should be exciting. Maybe by the time I get back someone will have told me who Red Hot Mama is.

Ghost Riding Melancholy To Monument Valley Oblivion

Earlier today I blogged about the book that the Queen of Wink sent me to make me melancholy. Ghost Rider.

I am a non-observant himbo, with himbo being a word that the Queen of Wink is now claiming she did not use to describe me.

So, with me being a non-observant himbo, I had not paid attention to the cover of the Ghost Rider book, til this morning, when my melancholy state, apparently, made me more observant. It appears to be Monument Valley.

When I first saw Monument Valley, on the book's cover, I thought it was the same view I use as the logo on my Roadtripping Blog, that being a picture I took when I stopped driving and got out my Safari Van manual, because I thought the view I was looking at was the same as that on the cover of the manual.

And it was.

Regarding that melancholy thing. It was suggested to me that walking around on the Tandy Hills can cure that condition. And so I did so. And it did. Sort of.

But then I got freshly perplexed by that constantly perplexing Queen of Wink. She sent me a message asking me to apologize to someone named Lou Landry because he'd sent her an email which she had not seen til weeks later.

None of the Queen's message made any sense to me. And me with that newfound insecurity regarding being a himbo, well, it just made me melancholy again. I'd have a whisky filled chocolate, but those are all gone. Maybe an espresso filled chocolate would perk me up.

One of my local crime partners is off on a bit of an adventure today. I'll just say it is political intrigue. No more details than that, lest 1 and 1 get correctly added to make 2. If I've not heard from my local crime partner by 5, I'm supposed to send out some sort of search party to look for her. Starting along the banks of the Trinity River on the north end of downtown Fort Worth. It is about an hour and a half before I head downtown.

Feeling Like Lincoln In Texas

Today I am having a bout of Abraham Lincoln's lifelong problem, as in, woeful, mournful melancholy. I don't know what has brought this bout on, other than the little annoying details of this hell I'm living.

Maybe it's a new book I'm reading that has brought on the woeful, mournful melancholy. The Queen of Wink sent me a book called Ghost Rider: Travels On The Healing Road by Neil Peart.

Neil Peart was the drummer in Canada's most successful rock band. Rush. I'm not sure if I remember Rush or not. Apparently they were quite popular. Recently I found I did not know who Boz Scaggs is. I'm not much of a music aficionado, apparently.

In the course of a year, Neil Peart lost his daughter in a car wreck and his wife to cancer. This had him totally wiped out. After a year, he willed himself to hit the road on his big motorbike. The book is the story of his coming back to life during the course of thousands of miles of motorbiking. So far, I've ridden with him from eastern Canada to Alaska.

I've never ever wanted to ride a motorbike. But, now I'm thinking it seems like something I might like. I am very susceptible to random input altering my pre-conceived notions, apparently.

I was in the pool, again, before the sun lit the place up, this morning. Swimming did nothing to lighten my melancholy mood.

Due to it being almost 11 in the morning, and me not blogging, I've gotten the regular "are you all right" messages. So, I thought I'd blog about how I'm not all right, to let those who are concerned about my "rightness," know that I'm all right.

I love writing convoluted sentences.

Texas Himbo Hiking On The First Day Of My New Year

Today being the first day of my new year I decided I was going to start the new year by radically altering my usual very rigid schedule.

I slept well after the night before's horrible insomnia. I think the sleeping thing may have been helped by the chocolate medicine that the Queen of Wink sent me. It seemed to have an extremely relaxing effect.

I was up about 2 hours before I decided on that plan to drastically alter my normal schedule. Which means I did do my regular early morning swim. Since it was dark when I did so, I got to see the Perseids Meteor Shower sending little sparks of light across the sky. This year's Perseids Shower is supposed to be extra strong. Judging by what I saw, in a sky contaminated by a lot of urban light pollution, the Perseids are putting on a real good show.

About 8:30, rather than do my regular thing of spending several hours on the computer and then escaping for some aerobic relief, I left here and went to the Tandy Hills to do me some early morning hiking. Totally different lighting with the sun no where near high noon. And with the temperature being low enough to let me keep my shirt on. I sort of missed the natural sauna steam bath effect of the noontime 100 degree hiking.

There are still wildflowers coloring up the prairie at the Tandy Hills. Is this unusual? I don't know. We are still quite green here in North Texas. It seems that other summers, by now, the lawns had turned brown.

I parked at the spot I had not parked at since the Fort Worth Gestapo gave me a ticket for driving too slow without my seatbelt on. I parked there because I was going to Town Talk after doing the hiking. Yet one more drastic time shift. At Town Talk I got Provolone, Feta, Tofu, Green Peppers and Cherry Tomatoes. Tofu was a radically different thing to get.

I knew due to my not blogging this morning that I'd get an email or two regarding that. But, I only got one, rudely asking if I was suffering from a hangover due to those whisky-filled chocolates I imbibed in yesterday. I guess asking that was not all that rude. I'm trying to learn to be less thin-skinned and not take umbrage over every little thing.

But, another email this morning was really rude. That rude emailer told me I was a himbo. I took this as some sort of compliment, at first. Then I remembered what a bimbo is. I guess the fact that I did not instantly realize what was meant by himbo, as in male bimbo, does make me a bit of a himbo. I've had worse things said to me, I am sure. But I'm not remembering what those might be right now, making me, I guess, a forgetful himbo.

Getting Drunk With Sam Houston Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whisky For My Birthday

In the previous blogging I said I found 2 keys in my P.O. Box that rendered a BIG BOX and a not quite as big envelope.

The BIG BOX said it contained heat sensitive material.

When I opened the BIG BOX I was greeted by what appeared to be thousands of white Styrofoam puffy things. Reaching in, carefully, I pulled out something wrapped in plastic that felt cold.

After struggling for awhile with the complex wrapping I came to a freezer pack. I then unlocked another package and inside that were 3 more boxes.

Those are the boxes in the picture. One is Texas Espresso Coffee Non-Alcohol Liquid Center Chocolates. Another is Sam Houston Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whisky Liquid Center Chocolates. The third is Poteet County Sweet Reserve Blackberry Wine Chocolates.

I can't figure out how to open the cool looking little boxes without breaking the label. This must be the final packaging puzzle.

I'm sure you are wondering who could possibly be so kind as to send me these goodies. Well, these came to me courtesy of that fountain of kindness, the West Texas Monarch known as the Queen of Wink.

Thanks.

Yikes! I broke the box opening code. Sam Houston's Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whisky came as quite a jolt as soon as the chocolate melted. That was good. I don't know if I should have another. I'm feeling a bit tipsy. Oh my, I had another. Those are good, but when that chocolate breaks and the flood of whisky gets out. Wow. Never have had something like this before. Must stop at two. For now. It's not even 5 yet. Scandalous.

Finding My Quiet Texas Center Among The Ruins

Worst bout of insomnia in quite a while last night. While watching TV, prior to trying to sleep, I chipped a tooth on popcorn, which then led to breaking a fingernail. I knew with all this calamity I was going to have a rough night.

I gave up trying to sleep about 4. I was in the pool while it was still quite dark.

Sometime in the morning I opened a birthday card from my mom and dad. There was $25 in it and a coupon for Sweet Tomatoes, with the card telling me to go there for lunch today.

But. I was too tired to go out for lunch. Around noon I took off from here, got gas, then went to the Post Office where I found 2 keys in the Post Office Box. It is quite a puzzle to find the numbers that matched the keys. I was looking for 18 and 19. One would think they would be right by each other, but the P.O. Box numbering system follows its own peculiar logic, that I have difficulty penetrating.

Eventually I found the boxes and saw one had a huge envelope and the other contained a huge box, which said the contents were temperature sensitive. I feared a repeat of last Thanksgiving's melted peach pie. More on what I found at the Post Office later.

When I drove away from the Post Office I called my mom, because, like I said, I'd just gotten gas and I always call my mom when I get gas. They are still up in Washington, now at my sister's in Kent. The one who got central air-conditioning installed during the recent rare heatwave. Which likely will not happen again in our lifetimes. Mom said it is now rainy and cold. So, they are heading down to the Oregon coast were it will likely be rainier and colder.

Rainier reminds me, it is a year ago, today, that I drove to Mount Rainier National Park and actually saw The Mountain up close for the first time ever.

I talked to mom all the way to Village Creek Natural Historic Area. I was hoping for a nice, relaxing walk, hoping to see something interesting, like an armadillo herd or a big snake. But the only new thing was the bench in the photo at the top. It's made out of that lasts forever, made out of plastic bags, fake wood material that is used more and more. Apparently the bench was donated by someone.

A plaque by the bench says,

"In Loving Memory
JIM KUNDE
1937 - 2009
Come and find the quiet center"

That is what I wish I could find. My quiet center. It's illusive.