Bottlecaps

Holiday haze

The front-page ad on my newspaper informs me that there are 16 days until Christmas.

That's tomorrow's ad, by the way, which will be today's ad by the time you read this, most likely.

This is the time of year, when, despite my best efforts, I start feeling the stress. Not enough money to buy the gifts I want to buy, not enough time to buy the gifts I can afford, not enough energy to get done the things I want to do …

All that, and I strong urge to drink screwdrivers and watch football highlights with a blanket on my lap. It must be the orange juice. It's a health drink, I reckon. Wards off the scurvy. Arrrrgh. I've been good so far this week …

We're going out to fetch a small Christmas tree this weekend. The boy has a strong urge to help these days, and it won't take him long to decide that putting ornaments on a tree is something he can do. It should be a very interesting day. I will try to remember to take pictures. I'm pretty sure there will be a tantrum/meltdown at some point …

Not sure what kind of time I will have for blogging this week. But one way or another, I'll fit in a couple. Even if they show up, like this one, about midnight …

Be groovy, all. 

Horny Toads robbed!

If Nebraska doesn't kick the ball off out of bounds … hell, even if they do, but then don't have that horse-collar tackle penalty … the Longhorns lose.

Their "game-winning drive" was one 19-yard pass. After that, they lost three yards before kicking the field goal. And Mack was bragging about "coming from behind."

Actually, Mack, it's called "luck." And you got it at the right time.

I know, I know, I've always preached it: A win is a win. And the Longhorns won. But I was looking forward to TCU vs. Alabama.

At least — and I'm glad for this — they did put that one second back on the clock at the end. I don't know if I could have tolerated all the whining that would have gone on around here if they hadn't. That ball sailed out of bounds and that last second ticked off the clock and suddenly I could see the future: "I have a vision of a flood of tears," I said.

Hell, visitors to Austin would have thought the city had been renamed "One Second" for all they would have been able to make out through the crying and blubbering.

(And no, this blog is not a ploy to boost my comments, but I'll take 'em.)

Foto Friday: Classics

I didn't take any new pictures this week, but I did spend some time going through and organizing some photos. That gives us a great opportunity to look back at some of the best …

(or to have reruns, depending on how you look at it)

 

After his first swim.

A-yup. The field is plowed right purty.

 

We call this our "Cindy Lou Who" photo.

Bluebonnets '08.

 

August 08.

And now for some funny ones …

 

Stumbling backwards into the cactus.

And, so he has …

Holy shit! Pumpkins!

 

Thanksgiving program participation FAIL.

 

Have a good weekend. We're watching you.

Random thoughts at 1 a.m.

WATCHED "No Country For Old Men" again last night. My second viewing. It was still great. I especially dig the silence over soundtrack decision — I don't know if that's supposed to reflect on the silence of West Texas, or if it's higher up the art food chain in the realms of something I don't understand.

Brolin was great, though you wonder if another actor could have pulled off that role. Bardem owned his role to the point that you couldn't picture anyone else doing it, but Tommy Lee Jones HAD to have the role of the sheriff. And yet — and I didn't catch this the first time — Barry Corbin stole the show in the scene he had with Jones. Yes, Barry "the most annoying part of 'Lonesome Dove' (even more than Ricky Schroeder)" Corbin was fantastic. Weird.

SPEAKING of roles. Let's get this straight: Morgan Freeman is going to portray Nelson Mandela.

Most. Perfect. Casting. Ever.

The whole history of the world has been building up to this point. The world's going to end all right, but not because of the Mayans or global warming or the supercollider. No, it's going to end because Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela will be so perfect that the very concept of art will collapse under the weight of its awesomeness. Without art, civilization will decay and, ultimately, collapse as well.

Really. Am I not getting my point across? Morgan Freeman! Nelson Mandela! Damn it! Can't you SEE that this is FATE?!

YOU MIGHT WONDER how I am doing in my quest to watch every NFL team over the course of this season. Well, I've seen 30 out of 32 teams play at least one half (though in some cases, "seen" is stretching the definition. I tried to watch a half of that Baltimore vs. Cleveland game and I'm not sure if I really saw it or not).

With 5 games to go, somewhere I've got to see St. Louis and San Francisco play. San Fran plays a Monday Night Football game that I can record. I'm not sure about St. Louis, or if I should really try hard to see them.

THERE WAS SOMETHING else I meant to say when I started this blog. And now it's gone.

Damn.

Top 10 CDs of the decade

Honestly, I should be watching the boy. But after 2.5 days of constant engagement, I think he's sick of me. He's playing in his room.

My list of my Top 10 favorite CDs of the decade is a little off, I'm sure. First, as always, it's based on a rather cursory search through my CDs. Really, I could spend all day going through each CD, listening to them, putting them in little stacks, etc. … but the boy wouldn't allow that.

Second, my list is skewed toward the first half of the decade. In 2000 and 2001 I heard almost every CD that came out that I had any interest in. I even got some for free because of my gig in San Angelo. In 2002 up through 2005, I bought most of the CDs I wanted to. Then … we bought a house and Shannon was pregnant and the kid came along … in fact, I'm pretty sure I only own two CDs that came out in 2009 (though I'm hoping to get a few more for Christmas, so this list could change).

So, this is not meant to be a comprehensive list, just my personal favorites among the ones I own …

Favorite re-issue: Townes Van Zandt, "Live at the Old Quarter." 2002. Twenty-seven songs from Townes when he was at his best.

Favorite box set: Willie Nelson, "One Hell of a Ride." 2008. One hell of a set.

Circling the pack: Hayes Carll, "Trouble in Mind." 2008. And Max Stalling, "Sellout: Live at Dan's Sliver Leaf." 2005.

TEN: Ray Wylie Hubbard, "Snake Farm." 2006. I'm sorry, I'm a guy. And I dig it.

NINE: Robert Earl Keen, "Gravitational Forces." 2001. Still digging this over "The Rose Hotel."

EIGHT: NDC, "Blame it on Blaine's." 2001? (those dorks didn't put a date on it.) If the measure of an album is how often you're drawn to listen to it, then my friends in San Angelo had a damn good one.

SEVEN: Todd Snider, "Peace, Love and Anarchy: Rarities, B-Sides and Demos, Vol. 1." 2007. Snider put out seven albums in the 2000s, all of them were about 50% sheer brilliance. So I don't know what it means that my favorite of the bunch is this throwaway for fans who will buy anything.

SIX: James McMurtry, "Childish Things." 2005. The protest song "We Can't Make it Here" is such a good song that McMurtry wrote a couple of bad ones for the next album, just trying to match it. And "Six-Year Drought" is just as good.

FIVE: Shaver, "The Earth Rolls On." 2001. The last album to feature Billy Joe and Eddy Shaver, it was released after Eddy died. Billy Joe hasn't reached this level since.

FOUR: Bruce Robison, "Country Sunshine." 2001. You know, I got to thinking about how pitch-perfect this whole album is, when I realized I hadn't bought a Bruce album since. Damn. He's had four CDs since then. They might all be this good.

THREE: Steve Earle, "Transcendental Blues." 2000. One song after another is fantastic. It's kinda a chick album — not much getting drunk or killing people — but so damn cool, that it hardly matters.

TWO: Mark David Manders, "Chili Pepper Sunset." 2000. I was in on the party, so maybe I'm just biased, but nothing has so ever perfectly captured a town and a time like Manders, this album and San Angelo in 2000. This CD was lightning in a bottle and why it didn't make him a bigger star, I'll never quite know.

ONE: James McMurtry, "Live in Aught-Three." 2004. I've praised this CD on my blog recently. I'll just say, yeah, it hasn't left my vehicle since I bought it. I know every note on this one.

In which Mr. Bottlecaps begins his blog with "In which…"

I should be motivated to blog. But I'm not. Instead I will refer you to my new favorite time waster: the web site probablybadnews.com.

Here are a few favorites …

I'd pay money to write this headline.

 

I'd pay more to write this one.

Some headline writer didn't think this one through …

 

Looks like she's met my kid already …

Weekend recap

Sorry I missed you guys yesterday. The boy has an ear infection — we had to skip preschool for a visit to the doctor.

And to make things more interesting, Shannon is off to Dallas for a four-day conference. I'm off work today and tomorrow, meaning I get 48+ hours of just me and the boy. On Thursday, my father-in-law rides in to the rescue, so I can go to work.

But at least the boy is in good spirits this morning. So we are off to a good start.

I don't have much time today, so here's my stream-of-consciousness recap of the weekend:

Thanksgiving at the farm: No drama, no guns, but good food and good times watching the boy play outside for hours on end.

Dallas Cowboys: Out of the slump? Just in time?

Aggies vs. Horns: For a moment there, at 14-14, I thought we had a chance. But we would have to be perfect. An interception, a fumble, a missed field goal and no shootout win for us. All in all, it was as good a game as I could have hoped for. Still, when ol' Colt took off running out of the pocket I am still waiting for Quentin Coryatt to appear out of nowhere and smear him into peanut butter. Where are you, Wrecking Crew?

Friday: Start of three days in a row sleeping as late as I could. God bless my in-laws.

Saturday: Watched the new "Star Trek." Once they got into space it was pretty entertaining. Before that, it was like "Star Trek 90210." Except for Karl Urban, who was fantastic as McCoy, they all looked like teenagers to me. The guy playing Kirk … hell, it seems to me that all they would have to do to get him off the bridge and out of the way is give him a Gameboy and tell him to go play. But, I have to admit, it was great to see Nimoy as Spock once more. It was great to see Nimoy as an old man and not all botoxed and facelifted to hell.

Sunday: After 3 days of turkey, pizza never tasted so good.

Now let us all pray that the boy takes a nap this afternoon. And that he's good for preschool tomorrow. Or else I will go craaaaaaaaazy.

Thanksgiving vacation II

Just like last year, I'm gonna take the rest of the week off when it comes to blogging, so I can concentrate on turkey, family and praying very hard that after Thursday night I can always refer that Longhorn fellow as Colt "1-3" McCoy.

Not likely, but …

So, until Monday, I leave you with some photos …

Attack of the 50-foot-tall boy!

 

"Always keep your back to the sun, pilgrim …"

 

"Magnetic locks? Damn!"

When I took this photo, I thought I had a good "closer" photo. I didn't realize he sort of looked like he was fixing to go Hannibal Lecter on the viewer …

So … have a good Thanksgiving, everybody.

Leaving the cave

We went out on Saturday night.

No, I don't mean we went to San Antonio to visit the in-laws and drink-n-doze in front of their TV. I don't even mean that we dumped off the boy with the in-laws and went to some San Antonio bar to talk about how poor and tired we are.

What I mean is we actually got in the car after dark on Saturday night — with the boy — and drove to our old neighborhood and visited with some friends for a few hours.

They fed us chili. They gave me cheap beer (which is not an insult, that's what I wanted). We sat around and talked about kids and only sort-of watched the Longhorns beat Kansas. The boy slowly warmed up to the situation, finally getting comfortable enough to pour out all their fish food and, later, try to strip down to his diaper.

We stayed way past the boy's bedtime — he conked out on the way home. But he was as well-behaved as I haver ever seen any child. When he was really tired, he just laid down on the floor. No fuss, no tears. Man, what a good kid. 

Shannon, bless her soul, agreed to be the designated driver, so I imbibed freely. And when we got home and got the over-tired child to sleep … well, we were ready to pass out ourselves. Damn, it's hard work being sociable.

But worth it. I think we're going to try it again next year.

-----------------------------------------------------

The ol' Bottlecaps blog finally hit 10,000 page views. Considering that the blog is neither promoted nor advertised, I think that's pretty groovy.

Thanksgiving with Jesus

So, at the boy's Christian preschool this morning, we had a small "program" and a potluck lunch.

The program wasn't much, just the older kids in paper Indian headdresses and pilgrim hats singing a few songs. The 2-year-old class was strapped down in a buggy and just kinda sat off to the side. I don't think they even got that they were supposed to be singing.

 

Here's his hand-colored placemat.

 

I should have known something was up, when I got this look.

 

Here it is. The boy is supposed to be in that red buggy at right. But when they went to strap him in, he had a crying fit. My guess is that when I showed up, he expected to go home (which is what has happened EVERY time before today). It didn't occur to him that I showed up early to watch the proceedings.

Anyway, after some wrangling, we gave up and he didn't take part in the singing of songs.

 

Because … yeah … you get the idea.

 

Once the singing began in earnest, he calmed down. And then decided it was time to go home, with or without me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was, however, one victory. During the potluck lunch (while the boy was refusing to eat, of course), I cut myself a slice of apple pie (which I love) and set it on my paper plate.

The paper plate the slide off the counter and splatted (apple pie side down) all over the wall and floor.

And (this is important, considering this was the 2-year-old class of 'Mornings with the Messiah.') I restrained myself from yelling out "Oh Jesus Christ! Not the fucking pie! Damn it, damn it, damn it all to hell!"

No, I held back. And the kids and the teachers and the priest all were very much thankful, I'm sure. Happy Thanksgiving to us all, right?