Saturday, May 17, 2003

Nature Break11:35 AM CST (Link)
After last week's heat, Saturday morning's mild weather was an astonishingly pleasant change. Mel and I got up early and walked and then completed a few minor outside chores that we had been postponing--such as trimming branches away from the house--while it was still relatively cool outside.

The temps were still moderate and a breeze was still blowing after we quit sawing for the day, so we decided to spend the rest of the morning sitting out on our tiny patio.

We love sitting outside when the weather is nice. We bought a little round cedar table and a couple of cedar folding chairs so that we can have our morning coffee outside on weekends. It's great.

And so we sit, the breeze dries our sweat and the no-see-ums pinch our legs. We chat and watch the doves and grackles squawk and fight over twigs and territory. Bub hides in the branches we cut down--a panther on the prowl. A butterfly drifts by--a yellow and black swallowtail.

We take note of all these pleasant interludes. And then we go back to typing on our laptops.

Thursday, May 15, 2003

12 Angry Men (Part 1)11:30 PM CST (Link)
This evening, Travis County District Court Judge Margaret Cooper gave me a certificate, printed on fake parchment, commending me for "contributing to the maintenance of Liberty Under Law through the Fair and Impartial Administration of Justice."

I was a juror in a Travis County civil court case. While it wasn't an earth-shattering case, it still was an eye-opening experience. My head is full and I'm sure it's going to take several days and several entries to digest everything I've seen and heard for the last four days and then get it all out of my system. I'm probably going to get boring, so I won't be upset if you hit your Back button.

But first, a few anecdotes I recorded during lunchbreaks:

5/14 Noon, John Henry Faulk Central Library
I walked down to the library today for lunch. It was an easy walk, not like yesterday's mile-long trek to Sixth and Congress. I figured I could get some modicum of quiet here.

The surprising problem with hanging out at the courthouse is that it is NOISY. I never expected that. The streets around the courthouse are noisier and you can't really go down to the park, because it's too hot (already) and because the homeless have staked out the picnic tables as their home-away-from-home. So I'm here, writing, while a kid cries a few shelves away, some other guy is dropping VHS tapes on the floor, and a guy behind me is turning pages of a newspaper rapidly, without even pausing to scan headlines. Ah public places. I hate them.

The little boy continues to cry. I think I might join him.

I keep thinking I'll bring my iBook and type these journal entries, but I think of how heavy it would be, and reject the idea.*

* (Evening, 5/15, at home) Mel just read through this part and chuckled. "You know we've come full circle," she said. "You're the one writing in a notebook and I'm the one writing on a laptop."

5/15 Noon, Travis County Courthouse cafeteria
It was a simple request. The item was on the menu. It should have taken all of a minute or two to prepare. A hotdog. That's all I wanted. That's it.

First, she had to dig deep into the freezer to even find the wieners. she threw one -- rock-hard -- onto the grill, next to a frozen hockey puck of hamburger.

"Ma'am, we don't have any bread that goes with them," she said.

"You mean hot dog buns?"

"Yes. Would you like it on regular bread?"

Having had far too many bread-weenies growing up, I declined. "Can I just have a hamburger, then?"

She nodded and went back to assembling other orders for other people. In the meantime, I watched that wiener thaw and finally start to warm. It wriggled and squirmed like a nightcrawler on a hook.

After what seemed like forever, she picked up the wiener, cut it in half, put it on a hamburger bun, and handed it to me.

Going for Gold
If you have business downtown, I heartily recommend the Downtown Dillo, Capital Metro's free shuttle. I took the Gold Dillo all four days from the Toomey Road Park & Ride, despite the free-parking passes we received for being jurors.

We live in South Austin and I *hate* trying to park downtown, free pass or no free pass. I had absolutely no trouble finding a parking space at the park & ride and never waited more than a couple of minutes, max, for a Dillo. It would take me almost as long to get across the river at rush hour as it does the Dillo, so I just avoided all that driving and parking stress.

It was almost perfect. Almost. There is one element you really can't control and for which you cannot plan. Fortunately, it happened only once.

Halfway to the courthouse one morning, the driver stops to pick up a couple of people. As the last guy got on, an almost-visible wave of odor suddenly assaulted my nostrils. Oh my god, he smelled bad. The compelling combination of B.O. and cigarette smoke complemented his authentic, unwashed appearance and scraggly beard.

Fortunately the guy got off only a couple of stops later. Unfortunately, I had a headache the rest of the day.

Tuesday, May 13, 2003

A Letter to Amazon.com10:10 PM CST (Link)
On May 1, I ordered a D-Link DI-713P Wireless Broadband Router and Access Point with 3-Port Switch (order #xxxxxx). The item shipped on May 3, 2003 and arrived on May 8, 2003. When I received the router, I noticed upon opening the package that this device previously had been opened and used. It did not work and I promptly returned the item. It is still in transit (UPS tracking number xxxxxx).

According to Texas law, it is illegal to represent that goods are original or new if they are deteriorated, reconditioned, reclaimed, used, or secondhand. This router had definite signs of previous use, including the installation guide, which had signs of wear, and the router itself, which was scratched in numerous places, both top and bottom, and did not work. The padded pouch that contained the antenna and rubber feet had previously been opened and retaped using ordinary household tape.

On May 7, I ordered the D-Link Air 6dBi Detachable Indoor Antenna as an accessory for this router (order #xxxxxx). Oddly enough, even though orders using your Super Saver Shipping usually takes several days to work their way through the system, the antenna shipped the next day, before I received the router. Therefore, I was unable to cancel this order.

Because I no longer trust Amazon.com to send me new electronics items, I returned the router and asked for a refund. I now have no use for the antenna, so I will be returning it also. I realize that shipping will be at my expense, because in my innocence, I did not wait for the router to arrive before I ordered accessories.

I will not make that mistake again. In fact, I have canceled all pending orders until this matter is resolved and will think twice about ordering from Amazon.com again.

I plan to file a copy of this letter with the Texas Attorney General's Office, because this is the second time someone in my household has ordered a new item and received a previously used item, and this misrepresentation needs to stop.

Thanks for your time.

Monday, May 5, 2003

Taco Cabana Man11:21 PM CST (Link)
The man ahead of us in line at Taco Cabana tonight was dressed in an old, dark blue sports jacket and stained khaki pants. His shirt didn't quite cover his large belly. His right hand held several credit cards in a death grip and he gave them to the cashier one by one.

"Here, try this one," he said. The cashier took the card, ran it through the reader, and indicated that this one, too, was declined.

"Here, try this one," he said. The cashier told him they didn't take that kind.

"Try this one again," he said, giving her the first one once more. Again, she tried, and again, it was declined. He back took the card and moved out of the way.

"Sorry about that," she said to us. We just smiled at her and gave her our order. I pulled out my debit card to pay for it, but thought better of it and gave her cash instead.

A minute or two after we sat down to wait for our food, he was back at the cashier's station, asking her to try his cards. He just didn't get it that those cards wouldn't work. He must have worn her down, though, because the next time I saw him, he had a cup in his hand and he was filling it with soda.

He sat down at a table within my range of view and started talking to nobody in particular. He kept asking this entity if they liked eating there. Mel said, "Don't look at him. Don't make eye contact."

I lowered my eyes, even though he hadn't caught me looking at him. Didn't work. Within a minute or so, we heard this loud, booming voice directly over our shoulders. "What are you eating?" he asked us, standing uncomfortably close to our chairs. He was a tall and large man, so his presence was imposing. I was scared.

"Tacos," Mel said after a stunned second of silence.

"They make good tacos here," he said. Then he walked away. He looked for more people to talk to, but the others seated inside were big, brawny guys who probably wouldn't have minded beating up some crazy homeless guy, so he make a semicircle and sat back down at his own table.

One more trip to the cashier and then a visit to the pick-up counter, both fruitless. I imagine he was looking for food not picked up or left over. No luck, though, and he finally left for good, thus ending one of the weirdest Taco Cabana experiences I've ever had.

I have extreme mixed feelings about panhandlers. On one hand, I'm very sorry for anyone who has to live on the street. It's a hard life, I'm sure. On the other, I've seen them working all sorts of scams to get money and I've even been threatened when I wouldn’t give them any cash. One even beat on my car window in a rage. (Buskers and other street performers, on the other hand, work hard for their money. If they give me a show, I'll give them money.)

Once I witnessed shift change in a wheelchair. One guy got up and walked across the street to get a drink at a nearby Taco Bell while another took his place.

For a significant part of last summer, another held a sign up that said, "On the road. Need 37 cents for a taco." I guess he wasn't lying. He was on the road all right. He just wasn't going anywhere, because he was in the same spot every day. Toward the end of the summer, though, inflation hit. The cost of tacos rose to 83 cents.

The last time I gave money to a roadside beggar was in 1989. It was Christmas Day and I was on my way back to the Houston area after a trip home to Shreveport. It was cold as heck out there and, as I passed through Lufkin, snow started falling.

An obviously pregnant woman was standing, alone, in the middle of the intersection where Highway 59 takes a curve southward. I figured anyone standing in snowy, subfreezing weather on Christmas Day really did need the money. I had $5 in my pocket--all I had to live on until payday at the end of the month. Without a second thought, I pulled it out and gave it to her.

Lately, there has been a couple at the corner of Westgate and Lamar every evening. The guy's sign was supposed to read:

"Laid off
Pregnant wife
Will work"

What it said, though, was:

"Laid off
Pregnant
Wife Will work"

Will the wonders of modern medicine never cease? And what a dedicated wife!

Saturday, May 3, 2003

Kissing All My Children11:03 PM CST (Link)
We've been watching All My Children for the past couple of weeks. Why would we submit ourselves to such torture? Mel discovered the show was going to broadcast daytime TV's first lesbian kiss.

The kiss was pretty mild, as kisses go. The characters, Bianca and Lena, gave it a good try, but it's rare when two straight women can convincingly perform a romantic lesbian kiss. (If you want a good example, go see Laurel Canyon. Frances McDormand. Nuf said.)

Now we're watching to see how the writers handle the continuing story line. Why? Train wreck syndrome, I suppose. I fully expect one of them to kill someone or be killed. Nothing good can come out of the relationship. It's doomed to failure. Not because it is a lesbian relationship, but because all relationships on soaps are in dire straits at some time or another. Of course, that's how they suck you in.

I remember my grandmother's devotion to her "stories," as she called them. Every weekday, she spent the early morning getting the kids off to school, used the rest of the morning to bathe and dress, and got downstairs by noon to clean house and start working on putting dinner together.

Pawpaw worked the night shift as a radio engineer at a local station, so she had to have dinner on the table about 4:30 p.m., to give him time to eat before he had to make the long, 40-mile trip out to the repeater station. While she was cooking, though, she would watch her shows--General Hospital and One Life to Live.

My grandmother was one of the sweetest people in the world and she would do anything for you, if she could. But you did NOT interrupt her when she was watching her stories.

In the early years of General Hospital, which first aired in 1963, all the scenes took place inside (surprise) a hospital. The nurse's station was where the action was. Nurse Jesse was HOT. She and Dr. Steve were passionately in love. Most of the time, that is. The melodrama--the passion, jealousy, joy, and heartache--that my grandmother loved hasn't changed at all. They are as strongly woven in the story lines of today as ever before. And the writing hasn't improved one bit.

We've been time-shifting--recording the show during the day and watching it at night. It's the only way to go, in my opinion. Fast-forward through all the storylines you aren't interested in and skip the commercials. Despite these improvements, I'm still not enamored of the soaps. Now I remember why.
The whole premise of soaps was to make the story line progress slowly and have a high degree of redundancy, so that housewives could miss a day or two every now without missing much. But that's what makes them intolerable to me.

There is altogether too much talking. Conversations that would normally take five minutes take weeks. One night's events are spread over days. In fact, on AMC last week, one woman's evening outfit stayed on her for three real-life days, while another's changed at least half a dozen times in the same time period.

The most entertaining bits during these last couple of weeks have been the occasional catfight. The girls really get into it--hitting, scratching, throwing things at each other, and even rolling around on the floor.

Hmm. Maybe I should continue to watch.

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