Looking Forward To Taking A Break From My Texas Exile To Spend A Year In Washington

In the picture you are looking at my house in Washington. Construction started during the Los Angeles Olympics in 1984, moved in in late spring of 1985. Moved from this house, to Texas, in December of 1998.

Today, after lengthy negotiations, I agreed to move back to Washington.

But not to my former house in Mount Vernon. It was sold in 2003. A sale which cut my last physical connection to Washington.

I will be moving to a house in Tacoma.

I like Tacoma.

There may be a person, or two, in Tacoma, who I don't like, but I like the town.

I am agreeing to move back to Washington for a year. So, Texas is not totally rid of me. At least I think that is the case. And even if Texas was rid of me, it is easy to keep an Eye on Texas from afar, what with our modern communication devices.

I like the idea of spending a year in Washington, after all this time away. Elsie Hotpepper can fly in for a visit. Elsie Hotpepper has never been to the Pacific Northwest. It would be amusing to cause Elsie Hotpepper some culture shock. Elsie does not like it when the earth moves unexpectedly.

Shooting Egrets On Fosdic Lake While Worrying About Mob Hits & Elsie Hotpepper On Friday The 13th

Going to Oakland Lake Park to walk around Fosdic Lake was my endorphin inducing aerobic stimulation location for today.

Yesterday I was underdressed for my aerobic stimulation. Today I was overdressed. It makes it a lot easier when it is real HOT and this type problem is not an issue.

Today there were a lot of birds on Fosdic Lake. Mostly ducks, paddling together in tight circled groups. I assume to keep warm.

I believe that is an Egret on a limb above Fosdic Lake you are looking at in the picture. Usually these type birds are easily spooked and fly away. This guy or gal let me get fairly close before its fight or flight response kicked in.

I believe I have taken a picture of this type bird before and that someone, I think it was CatsPaw, identified it.  Due to my AADD (Adult Attention Deficit Disorder) I often forget what I'm told. Like the name of specific bird.

Speaking of specific birds. I am a little worried about Elsie Hotpepper. She sent me an email message from her phone that said, "the mob is going to kill me."

I'm thinking this "mob" hit was a predictive text error that Elsie Hotpepper did not notice before she hit the send button.

A predictive text error happened once with my mom and dad when they texted me "be good at noon." Noon was only about 15 minutes away when I got the message from mom and dad telling me to be good at noon. I later learned what they'd meant to tell me was "be home at noon."

Then again, now that you are making me think about it, it really is not all that far fetched to think that the "mob" might have a hit out on Elsie Hotpepper. Elsie is a bit of a feather ruffler. Something I avoid being, hence no "mob" hits out on me.

I hope everyone is having themselves a mighty fine Friday the 13th.

Friday The 13th Thinking About Not Voting Al Smith For President Because He Is Catholic

It is appropriately very very dark this Friday the 13th, looking out my primary viewing portal on the world, past the bars that surround my secondary viewing portal patio prison cell, at a swimming pool that is currently too cold to swim in.

It is currently 29 degrees in the outer world at my location.

This is the first time, that I remember, since I began obsessively monitoring the temperature around the world, that the temperature at my current location and my old location, in Washington, are the same.

Changing the subject to Mitt Romney. I knew he was a Mormon. I should have guessed, since he is a Mormon, that Mitt Romney has reproduced himself a lot of times.

But I had no idea, til this morning, that there are so many Mitt Romney reproductions. And that they look like clones. I saw a group picture of Mitt Romney and a large percentage of his clones, I mean, sons. Mitt Romney looks like their big brother, not old enough to be the maker of all these reproductions.

I don't know if I got the info on all the sons, but the bios of the ones I read had them all married and busy making reproductions. I saw no photos of the secondary reproductions, so I don't know if they are all Mitt Romney clones too.

I'm not understanding why there is not more of an issue made of Mitt Romney being a Mormon. Has America really gotten totally tolerant? It does not seem all that long ago that a Catholic had a hard time running for President.

I remember when the governor of New York, Al Smith, became the first Catholic nominated for President, in 1928. He lost to Herbert Hoover. I don't remember who I voted for in that election. It was likely Al Smith, because I seldom vote for the winner.

A much bigger fuss was made in 1928, over Al Smith being a Catholic, than the almost zero fuss made over Mitt Romney being  Mormon in 2012.

I have nothing against Mormons, or any religion. I just think it's goofy to believe that Jesus got resurrected in Jerusalem and then made his way over to North America where he preached to the Native Americans, before taking off for wherever it is His heavenly paradise is located.

I wish I could say I am going swimming now.

Taken For A Ride On Fort Worth's New Futuristic Super Bowl Buses

A Futuristic Fort Worth Bus

I read that bus, you are looking at in the picture, described in the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, as being futuristic.

Futuristic.

I had no awareness of the existence of the futuristic Fort Worth buses until I was informed of their existence by Miss Gail Galtex.

I do not understand how I missed this.

Way back last year, in February, the futuristic Fort Worth buses made their debut during the February 6 Super Bowl, an event that is now known as the Dallas Cowboy Stadium Super Bowl Boondoggle Fiasco.

The new buses arrived in time for their drivers to be trained to operate them in time to transport Super Bowlers from the Trinity Railway Express (TRE) Centrepoint Station to the Dallas Cowboy Stadium.

I can find no information as to how many people actually used the futuristic buses to get to the Super Bowl. There is a bus from Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport that goes to the Centrepoint Station.

That must have really impressed people incoming from World Class Cities to get off the plane to hop a bus to get to another bus stop to hop another (futuristic) bus to take them to the futuristic Dallas Cowboy Stadium to watch the Super Bowl.

Fort Worth spent $6.4 million on their fleet of eight 80 passenger futuristic buses. This $6.4 million came from people all over America, courtesy of the Federal Recovery Act.

I assume this is part of what is known as The Stimulus.

This fleet of eight futuristic buses are now being used for the T's (Fort Worth Transportation) Rapid Transit Lines on East Lancaster Avenue. The Fort Worth Transportation Propagandists say the futuristic buses are a hybrid between a bus and light rail and will give passengers the feel of a light rail car.

Well.

I have ridden in a light rail car. And I have ridden in a futuristic articulated bus, those being futuristic articulated buses that I believe are quite a bit bigger than Fort Worth's futuristic articulated buses. I would not compare being on a futuristic articulated bus to being on something with the feel of a light rail car.

I guess you could say, if you were a practicing propagandist, that riding in a car has the feel of a light rail car. I mean, you are moving in a motorized vehicle that is connected to the ground by wheels.

So, I guess it makes sense for Fort Worth Transportation's propagandists to propagandize that these new futuristic Fort Worth buses give passengers that really special light rail experience that is denied the people of Fort Worth, but can be easily had by a trip to Dallas.

Changing the subject from propaganda back to the Super Bowl Boondoggle Fiasco.

Has there been any sort of investigation by anyone into how much money was wasted by Fort Worth in that particular Boondoggle? Some of the disaster was weather related, courtesy of ice storms and snow. But some of it was hubris related.

Like, how much money was wasted making ESPN happy? Fort Worth officials did such an embarrassing happy dance when ESPN indicated they wanted to broadcast from a parking lot in downtown Fort Worth. ESPN was not the Super Bowl broadcaster. They could not broadcast from a venue near the Super Bowl. Dallas likely turned down ESPN's request to broadcast from a place like the plaza in front of the American Airlines Arena.

And so Fort Worth got the prize of having ESPN on one of its parking lots. Fort Worth city officials were expecting HUMONGOUS crowds to come downtown to watch ESPN do its broadcast, indicating, at least to me, that Fort Worth city officials really think the locals are hard up for something to do.

Anyway, how much did the City of Fort Worth spend on its various Super Bowl related expenses, like clearing out the Shanty Towns and buying futuristic buses?

The small buses that have been serving Lancaster Avenue are never full. This is the only bus line I've actually ridden. It must feel like being in a ghost town to be riding those new, futuristic light rail-like buses, with a couple of poor, homeless people.

I am done now.

Dealing With The U.S. Postal Service While Resisting The Urge To Go Postal

Ever since I closed my Post Office Box I don't go to the Post Office very often.

But I did today.

On the way to Village Creek Natural Historical Area I stopped at my neighborhood Handley Post Office to mail something to my favorite aunt living in Eastern Washington.

I walked into the deathly quiet Post Office and saw a line of 6 with one Postal Clerk clerking.

I got in line. About 10 minutes later the line moved. I was now 5th in line. Fifteen minutes later I was 3rd in line.

When I was 4th in line a lady got in line behind me. That lady had one of those Post Office supplied type boxes filled with what looked like around 20 big envelopes to mail.

When I was 3rd in line the Postal Clerk looked at the Lady with the Box and told her she could not process that mail now because the line was too long.

"Are you allowed to refuse service?" the Lady with the Box asked.

"Yes, I am," said the Postal Clerk.

The Lady with the Box had been on the phone all the time she was behind me. I could hear what the person she was talking to was saying. That person then told the Lady with the Box to ask to talk to the manager.

By the time I was 1st in line and finally face to face with the surly Postal Clerk, the Lady with the Box was talking to the unkempt looking short blonde frumpy woman who apparently was being the Post Office manager today.

I asked the Postal Clerk if all the other postal clerks had called in sick today. The Postal Clerk told me that they had not called in sick, but were in the backroom working. She told me this in a very surly manner.

Going to the Post Office has always been annoying. It was annoying when I lived in Washington. It is annoying in Texas. But, I think the experience has gotten even more annoying the past several years.

I've got a private Post Office operation across the street, part of the Albertsons strip mall. I think it is called Mail Etcetera, or something like that. I never think to go there til it is too late. Miss Puerto Rico has a Post Office Box at Mail Etcetera. I've been in there with her. The guy who runs it seems very competent. And not at all surly. He always greets Miss Puerto Rico by name.

I have no idea what the outcome was for the Lady with the Box. My business was completed, so I left.

Wikipedia has an article about "Going Postal".

Walking With The Indian Ghosts To The Blue Bayou Of Village Creek With Cbonesmom & Otterpengu

Village Creek Blue Bayou

Two out three of my sisters went walking with me today with the Indian Ghosts who haunt the Village Creek Natural Historical Area in the town of Arlington in the state of Texas.

One of my sister's Indian name is Cbonesmom. The other sister's Indian name is Otterpengu. Cbonesmom lives in the Phoenix suburb of Chandler. Otterpengu lives in the Seattle suburb of Kent.

It was nice today to see that the Village Creek Blue Bayou has returned to being blue due to the return of blue sky.

A really cold blue sky. Which had a strong wind blowing below it, which had the wind chill factor making the air feel real cold.

Talking to two-thirds of my sisters today left me feeling rather melancholy.

I can't go swimming to make myself feel in a less melancholy mood.

And chocolate does nothing for me.

I've heard before, somewhere, that adult beverages containing alcohol can elevate ones mood from melancholy. I've also heard, somewhere, that consuming adult beverages containing alcohol can cause health woes and acts as a depressant.

Anything that acts as a depressant is likely not something someone feeling melancholy would want to imbibe in.

I think I'll drink a glass of alcohol-free water and see if that lifts me out of my melancholy mood.

An Arctic Blast Has Blasted North Texas This 2nd Thursday Morning Of 2012

You might guess via the view out of my primary viewing portal on the outer world that the sun and I got up about the same time on this 2nd Thursday of 2012.

Your guess would be correct.

A strong wind, during the dark hours, blew in a cold front that was chilled up in Canada before delivery to Texas.

Canada has Arctic blasted us formerly warm Texas inhabitants to the sub-freezing cold of 30 degrees.

I had my windows open yesterday. I don't remember doing that in January before. I've got the furnace blowing artificially heated air on me right now. I do remember doing that in January before.

I had a strange bout of sneezing yesterday afternoon. Have there been any reports of strange bouts of sneezing associated with being in close proximity to a Barnett Shale well getting Fracked?

I wish I could say I am going swimming now. But I can't. I used to have thicker skin, but in my old age I've grown more sensitive to cold temperatures.

Inside The Walls Of Fort Chesapeake Is A Beehive Of Fuming Fracking Activity

Frac Job Underway In Fort Chesapeake On Wednesday

On Sunday the gate to my neighborhood Fort Chesapeake was wide open.

So, I walked inside the notorious walls.

That day, January 8, I saw the Frac Job was due to start January 10.

In the photo, from a couple hours ago, you can see that there is now a lot going on inside the walls of Fort Chesapeake.

It really is quite astonishing to see how much equipment is brought in and put in place. It looks as if it would be a logistics nightmare.

Whatever it is that is involved with Fracking, it is very noisy.

Can you see that grayish discoloration in the photo, above the white piece of equipment? That looks like exhaust fumes? It is rising from what looked to me to be the location of the hole that was poked in the ground, so the Fracking Water can reach the Barnett Shale and Frac it.

Inside The Walls Of Fort Chesapeake On Sunday

I smelled nothing foul, unlike my previous close up encounter with a Frac Job, that being the notorious Scott Avenue well on the west side of the Tandy Hills.

With the noise of what sounded like a lot of engines running one would think I would have at least detected diesel fumes.

I have no idea how long this Fracking is going to last. This is totally different than my other nearby Chesapeake Energy well operation.

That time there were days of long lines of trucks. I assumed they were bringing in the Fracking Water.

Now I"m thinking maybe those long lines of trucks were taking away the used contaminated Fracking Water.

The first drill pad in my neighborhood is closer to the Trinity River, with the current water sucking pipeline running right by that previous Chesapeake operation. I saw the pipeline today, running from the Trinity River, under Randol Mill Road and then in a creek bed, heading up the hill, past my first neighborhood Chesapeake drilling site, then to Fort Chesapeake.

So, I guess I have the long line of trucks part of this operation to look forward too.

Walking With The Spirit Of Quanah Parker & Other People Before Being Hypnotized By Naked Pecan Tree Limbs

I saw this vision of the last great Comanche Chief, Quanah Parker, today, on an acorn, when I took my daily salubrious, endorphin inducing aerobic walk, this time in the Fort Worth city park called Quanah Parker Park.

Quanah Parker was not 100% full blooded Comanche. Quanah Parker was half Texan, because his mom was a Texan named Cynthia Ann Parker.

Cynthia was a member of the large Parker tribe that settled in East Texas in the 1830s, eventually building a fort called Fort Parker, near what is now Groesbeck, Texas.

In 1836 the Comanche raided Fort Parker, likely in retaliation for depredations foisted upon them by the incoming Texans. Cynthia and her grandfather, John Parker, and other relatives, were taken captive. Grandpa John was killed. Others, included Cynthia, were tortured.

Somehow, eventually, the Comanche Chief, Peta Nocona, stopped the torture and made Cynthia his wife. Cynthia became part of the Comanche tribe, birthing 3 children, including Quanah, living happily with the Comanche for 24 years, until Cynthia was "rescued" from the savages when she was 34 years old.

Cynthia lived another 10 years, unhappily, attempting, at times, to escape the Texans to return to her adopted tribe.

I have had that feeling a time or two, that feeling of wanting to escape the Texans, to return to my adopted tribe. Then the feeling passes when I remember I don't have an adopted tribe to return to.

Today's walk with the spirit of Quanah Parker was very pleasant. One could not ask for a more perfect temperature. Today there were 3 groups, besides myself, walking on the Quanah Parker Park trail.

Quanah Parker Naked Pecan Trees

And for the first time I saw two people using one of the newly installed benches that are part of City of Fort Worth Natural Gas Revenue in Action.

I tell you, Quanah Parker Park is getting popular.

All leaves have left the Parker Pecan Trees. I like to look at the fractaling limbs of big trees after they have been stripped naked of leaves. It's hypnotic.

Speaking of fractaling. I have my window open due to the fact that it is currently 63 degrees in the outer world at my location. With the window open I can hear the dull roar of the Fracking currently going on at my neighborhood Fort Chesapeake.

I stopped at Fort Chesapeake, well, actually, I stopped on the Albertsons parking lot and walked across the street to Fort Chesapeake, to take a picture of the Fracking. But, that is a subject for a separate blogging.

Smoke Makes Me Homesick For Washington But I Am Not Going To Rant About It

About once or twice a year I'll have a moment or two where I get slightly homesick for my old home zone of Washington.

Last night my oldest nephew sent me a photo which made me homesick for the first time this year.

It is a simple photo, sent from a phone. In the photo my grand nephew, Spencer Jack, is standing next to two of his aunts, with the one in the middle being his namesake.

My nephew was told he can't go wrong by naming his kid after his richest relative. And so he did.

The thing in the photo that made me homesick is not the bottle of beer next to the aunt on the right that appears to be floating in the air.

The thing that made me homesick was the campfire. I have not sat around a campfire on a foggy winter day in this century.

Texas BBQ smoke smells good, but that smoke smell smells different than the smoke smell you get from the firewood that you have available for burning in Washington. Like Alder. Or any of the Evergreen softwoods, like Cedar, Douglas Fir, Pine or Hemlock.

Changing the subject from smoke to ranting.

Elsie Hotpepper informed me today that I have been in rant mode lately. I realized I was not quite sure exactly what a rant is, as in the precise definition. So, I consulted the Urban Dictionary, where you know you're going to get a precise definition, and learned....

To rant is to speak aggressively about something. or to take your own tangent about a subject and talk for a long time in a passionate manner. To suddenly give a long speech that usually results in rambling and repeating of nonsense.

Well, reading that definition I can clearly see that it is true that I am a ranter. I constantly and consistently ramble and repetitively repeat nonsense.

I hope this new self awareness about ranting does not make me self-conscious about it to the point that my venting via ranting comes to a screeching halt. Because I really enjoy rambling repetitive nonsense, in what, apparently, is a rant.