Astros Stuff: Bye Bye Mo

With today's trade deadline looming, I'm watching the Astros' website to see what's going to happen.

We already knew last week about Dan Wheeler being traded to Florida for Ty Wiggington. I wasn't really sad to see Dan go.
Then we found out Morgan Ensberg was designated for assignment. Which means he could be traded, sent down to the minors or let go.
I have mixed feelings. Ensberg hasn't been performing well for a while now.
I always had a bad feeling when he came up to bat, especially if the game was close or there were tying runs on base.
I had lost faith in him and knew he needed to go.
I felt sorry for him, though. I'm a great big girl and probably don't belong in this baseball business because I get emotionally involved.
I know Ensberg wanted to do better and I'm sure his downward slide was depressing for him.
So, with mixed emotions, I read that Mo was out.
Today, I feel MUCH better.
Ensberg is headed to San Diego...where he and his wife LIVE.
This one lucky mofo! It couldn't get better for him than this.

Good luck to Mo in San Diego.

"Half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through life trying to save."

Right after graduation I started working at an outlet store in our brand spanking new outlet mall.

It was a new store so the merchandise wasn't even on the shelves when I and several others showed up on our first day.

I was looking forward to this new opportunity just out of high school. I was sick of the whole Lord of the Flies mentality of high school and was looking forward to meeting new, mature people.

I remember getting there pretty early and I watched as all the other new employees walked in, one by one. I examined the new faces wondering if I'd end up liking them. Would they be jerks? Would we get along?
That's when I saw her. Kay. I knew exactly who she was since the third grade. She was a year older than me but everyone in school knew her.
Kay was beautiful and uber popular.
I thought I inwardly rolled my eyes but later she told me I did it outwardly.

What I didn't know was that she was nervous about the first day and when she saw me, she was relieved. She knew someone!

Well...we didn't know each other but we knew of each other. But that was good enough for both of us.
I tried avoiding her, I think but it didn't take long for us to become friends.
I, of course, was totally wrong about her. I just judged her by the people she hung out with.
We started hanging out together and met lots of other people. We instantly connected to two new friends, JT and Edwin.
The four of us were inseparable. It seemed like every weekend or week night, we were doing something together.
Well...not always together. Sometimes, Edwin would get traded out for another friend of JT, Pudge.
Kay and I were torn between Edwin and Pudge. Edwin was chronically unemployed so whenever we went out, we all took turns paying for him. If Pudge went with us, because he was "pudge" he'd block the a/c vents in the car so Kay and I would die from heat stroke in the backseat.

Eventually, Edwin won out because he was more pleasant to hang out with and Kay and I hated to sweat!

We had so many adventures, the four of us but like so many friendships, life took over and we all went our separate ways.
Kay and I stayed close although we don't see each other nearly enough.
We both stayed in infrequent contact with JT but in the last couple of years we three talk more often.
Kay is married with a daughter and JT has a 13 yr old son.

Yesterday, we spent hours emailing each other back and forth. All three of us were at work but obviously not much work got done.
We started talking about old times and as usual JT couldn't remember something and Kay and I jumped all over him for having such a bad memory.
His excuse: "It happened 17 years ago!!!"

Whoa. That stopped me in my tracks. 17 years ago.
How could I be old enough to be talking about "old times" which happened nearly 20 years ago?
I don't feel like I'm much older than 20 myself.
Where did all this time go?
The concept of years passing and time marching forward is so huge to me that I can't really comprehend it.

I feel like life is going by too fast. I want it to slow down a little. Not because I want to get off...I just want to stand still for a little while.

Harry & his BIG wand

You see these puffy eyes? I blame Harry Potter, that little wand-wielding bastard! I finished the final installment of the Harry Potter series this morning...at 3am. Yes, 3am!
I don't know what I was thinking! I picked the book up as I got into bed and figured I'd read a few pages. Next thing I knew, it was 2am and I was so very near the end; I couldn't stop now!

I'm a freakin nerd, I know. I got goosebumps when the kids of Hogwarts banded together to fight Voldemort. Yes, I admit it, I cried a little at the end. That isn't saying much, though, I cry at those Special Olympics commercials.

That J.K. Rowling chick...man, she is brilliant. Not just in the imaginative world that she created and her descriptive writing but the way the politics of Potter's world mirror our own society...just brilliant.
Not to mention that fact that she's getting people to read. Books!

I like a book that I can totally get lost in. I am at my happiest when I can't wait to finish all the mundane tasks of life so I can dive back in. I know it's good when I thinking about the book while doing other things with that shiver of anxiety when I keep thinking it's like a movie where I forgot to hit the pause button. I have to keep reminding myself that the story will still be there when I get back to it, I haven't missed anything.

Some people think that reading fiction is beneath them or that it's a waste of time because they don't learn anything from it.
To me, that's bullshit. You learn so much from a book whether it's fiction or non-fiction. If it's not actually fact you're gleaning, it's human nature, emotion and relationships. It's the beauty of the written word and the description of things you wouldn't normally notice as you go through your day.
You learn to see things with new eyes when you read.
Each time you open that book, you're expanding your world.

But what do I know? I just write this stupid blog.

At this point I'm surprised I haven't fallen over. Staying up all night with a 17 yr old wizard sure takes a lot out of a girl!

Thursday Cuteness

I had just picked Zoe up from the groomers and all I really wanted to do was go back to bed but I couldn't resist taking a few pics.

If this doesn't make you smile, you must be an evil, heartless, dark, hateful bastard.

Peeking in

I'm a bad blogger...BAD BLOGGER.

I wish I could say I've been spending my time watching the dozen DVDs chock full of porn sent to me for my birthday by a very lovely man and although I've enjoyed quite a few of them so far, I've mostly been wallowing in illness and letting life take over for a while.
I've had a mild relapse of the mystery illness from a few months ago. I guess either my crazy has returned or I'm still a big slut.

I've been in a pretty bad mood because I'm in pain but I think I'd be a little pissy anyway because apparently it's stupid week here at work.
I posted a sign right outside that says "Wifi available here". A middle-aged couple came in and asked to use a computer, "But we don't want none of that wifi stuff. We just want regular internet."
I was actually speechless....which doesn't happen very often.

"Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures."

This blogging thing amazes me.

Sometimes I think I'm this small voice in a giant universe and when someone shouts back, I'm truly stunned.

Last year, I wrote this post about Walter Falk, artist and storyteller.

I was able to reconnect with him because of my blog and sadly, I found out about his death because of my blog.

Walter (Terry) Falk died - I started to say that beauty, life and color died with him but because of his beautiful art, that will live on

He wasn't an old man by any means but he lived a LOT in his years. He traveled all over and the proof was in his work and the stories he could tell.

I fully expected to see Falk again in October and I was planning on adding to my collection with possibly an even larger piece. (I was kicking myself last time for not purchasing a certain painting) It's so hard to believe that I won't see him this year. I'll never see still-wet paintings by Falk or stand next to him as he wields his Sharpie, adding details to the painting I just purchased.
I'm so very thankful that I did get to know him and that I have a collection of his work.
His beauty remains.

Here is my first blog post about Falk and I'm posting my last one about him after the jump.

Artistic Impressions

I love art mostly because I want so desperately to be able to express myself using some form of art. I have tried and I found myself sitting before a blank page or a blank canvas wondering what in the hell I'm doing.
So, instead, I collect.
I'm not like Steve Wynn who collect priceless works of art by oh..say...PICASSO but I enjoy owning things I find beautiful.

I don't always love those realistic paintings of landscapes or still life. I want to see what the artist sees inside his head.
Sometimes that's pretty damn scary but sometimes it can be breathtakingly beautiful.

I wrote a small blurb a year or two ago about an artist I really love named Walter Falk. My boyfriend at the time and I discovered him back in 97 or 98. We bought a couple of pieces and then looked for him every year at the Bayou City Art Festival and would purchase one or two pieces.
When said boyfriend and I broke up, we split our collection and went our separate ways.

Falk disappeared from the art festival after a couple of years and we never found him again.

A few months ago, his son found my blog by (I'm assuming) doing a search for his father's name.
He emailed me to let me know his dad was still painting and would be in my area this weekend at the Artoberfest.

I was worried when the day started out with pouring rains and strong winds but luckily the weather cleared and it turned into a decent day for art.

I found Falk right away. He spoke to me as soon as I entered his booth but there was no way he would remember me, he must see thousands of people a year.
He spoke to me as I was looking at his paintings and I explained to him that his son sent me an email to let me know he would be there and suddenly he knew who I was and knew about my blog. He was able to repeat to me things I had written.
It was such a strange sensation.
When I wrote that small entry about this man, I never in a million years thought that he or anyone who knew him would read it.
The fact that he did and acknowledged it was surreal.

Each piece I picked up, Falk had a story about the inspiration behind it. He told me why he used certain colors and encouraged me to take them out into the sunlight to really see the differences in shades and textures.
He told me stories of being drunk in the Swiss Alps, going from brewery to brewery until he found his reason for being in Switzerland.
(He also let me know that he wasn't drunk yet that day and he'd been nursing a warm Lone Star beer for a while. No man should drink a warm beer on a hot day so I bought him a cold Shiner.)
To be able to discuss the actual painting with the artist and to know what was going through their mind when they put brush to canvas is amazing. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to be standing there talking to the man that creates such beauty.
He's a huge man, towering over me (with me at nearly 5'10" that's hard for someone to do!) but when he described something he witnessed that inspired him to paint a certain piece, the beer in his hand and his rough exterior disappeared and he became almost child-like in his awe of the world.

Falk uses acrylics and watercolors and ink; sometimes in the same pieces. I love that. I love the complexity and the use of color and the mixture of mediums.

I couldn't make up my mind. There were several paintings that I loved so he put them all side by side and that really helped me make my decision. I purchased two completely different pieces and although I love both, one of them really spoke to me. I stared at it all weekend, marveling at the unbelievable colors and the hidden details.

I don't know a whole lot about art and I certainly can't write with any great knowledge but I know what I like and I know what is beautiful to me.

Art and beauty are truly in the eye of the beholder.

PS: By the time I got to the art show, all paintings and the artist were dry.

Psycho Fabulous

One of my favorite things lately is dining out alone.
I talked about it in a previous post and since then, I can't wait to get an evening to myself.
Saturday, I found myself in Houston for *cough* a meeting with a friend. A few hours later, I wondered why the hell I was there and started daydreaming of lunch.
I couldn't wait to shake "my friend" and find a nice restaurant.
I headed for a late lunch at Niko Niko's, my favorite Greek place but even at 2pm, they were packed. I couldn't even find a parking place.
I wasn't up to driving across town to another favorite restaurant so I scanned Montrose and saw a place called Hollywood that boasted Vietnamese, Chinese and French cuisine.
Ok, Vietnamese and Chinese I could see...but French? I was intrigued. I had to go.
For those of you unfamiliar with Houston. Montrose is a very gay-friendly area. The Gay Pride parade is held there, rainbow flags hang everywhere and every other person is gay. I love this place.
The restaurant was beautiful, the Vietnamese food was great, my waiter was stand-offish. I didn't care, I had my iPod and a seat by the window. I watched two gay black men fight about something. One had on jeans, a tshirt and heels, carrying a cheap walmart handbag.
The other was a regular guy with a can of what I'm assuming was malt liquor in a brown paper sack.
That was all the dinner theater I needed.

Last night, I decided to head to a favorite sushi place. I settled in, placed my order and pulled out my iPod. Just as I did this, I noticed something strange on the other side of the window that ran the length of the wall. It was a man, wearing a red motorcycle helmet, a woman's white dress slip, two purses slung across his body and several strands of beads wrapped around his neck.
The slip was cinched around his waist with a green army-type belt. A woman pushing a stroller walked by and she stopped and stared in what I could only assume was shock and awe.
He noticed this and decided to do a little pirouette. This movement caused the slip to flutter up and show everyone in the restaurant (who, by the way, had stopped talking and eating to stare at this spectacle) his yellow banana hammock that was swinging VERY low.
A collective gasp could be heard all over the restaurant and I was shocked that it didn't turn into a huge barforama when he suddenly turned his back to his audience and bent over.
The material of his skimpy yellow undies were worn thin from excessive washing or years and years of wear and I could tell there wasn't much between us and sure terror. I thanked Jebus that his backwards bow lasted a mere second. It could have so easily turned into a disaster...as if it weren't already.
My waiter was standing next to me as the man finished the show and skipped down the sidewalk, perhaps to entertain another restaurant full of unsuspecting diners.
"Well, what can ya do?", said my profound waiter.
I looked around the restaurant as people were giggling together.
I shrugged and replied, "At least he was wearing a helmet."

Independence Day

Happy 4th Everyone!