State of Emergency

While Hurricane Ike makes his way toward the Texas Gulf Coast, the city of Lubbock is experiencing its own version of a weather disaster.

The Lubbock International Airport (which is directly east across Interstate 27 from where I work...like 1 mile away) received the most rainfall in a 24 hour period in history...of the airport, I assume.

Over eight inches of water was dumped over the city of Lubbock yesterday, which is over half of the average yearly rainfall for the city. To put it simply, Lubbock just doesn't see rains like that.


At 9pm last night, the Lubbock mayor declared the city "in a state of emergency" encouraging people to "turn around, don't drown".

The local weathermen are calling it a "100 year rain". All I know is during the three and a half years I've spent living out here out of that 100, I've never seen it rain like it did yesterday.


Every school is closed today. Even Texas Tech University shut its doors, and I don't think they ever close down, unless there's some major weather event like a flood or something.

The roads were like those of a ghost town this morning on my way to work, which actually made my morning commute quite pleasant, despite the slow moving 1978 GMC Cheyenne pickup that drove in front of me. Many roads were closed, and most had barricades where portions of the road where submerged.

Yesterday on my way home from work, I encountered standing water on the street I live on that was every bit of six inches deep. I felt like I was driving a motor boat.

This is Milwaukee Ave. Looks more like the Milwaukee River. I wonder if there really is a Milwaukee River?

Cotton fields are flooded, making them look more like rice fields than a crop that will produce white, fluffy softness.

Now, you have to remember that Lubbock County is the flattest county in the country. So, when you get a lot of water, there's really no where for it to go, except for places like the Wal Mart parking lot, or Dave's Need For Speed Go Cart fun station.

Seeing it rain all day is not really something to write home about. I've seen it rain all day in the Ozarks many times, but there's plenty of hills for it to drain off. But, out here, as I've mentioned in a previous post, even a half an inch of rain can put the Wal Mart parking lot on 4th St. under water. Holy crap, that's my second mentioning of Wal Mart in a single post. Next thing you know, I'll be like this: View news story here.

It just doesn't rain all day like that out here!

Thankfully, the corn and peanut office has remained open to serve the growers of this state. Rest easy.

Meanwhile, Gov. Rick Perry has intelligently called Hurricane Ike a "big storm". Yes, folks, that right there is way he is governor of the largest state in the lower 48. Not just any Joe Blow can recognize the sheer size of Hurricane Ike, unless you're, oh let's say, the Weather Channel, MSNBC, or anyone with Internet or cable television.

The city of Lubbock was already preparing for an influx of evacuees from the Houston and Galveston areas, however, many of the cots set up for these people had to be used by Lubbock citizens whose homes were flooded.

Fortunately, I have a top floor apartment. I just hope the flooding doesn't give me an excuse to meet the people that live below me.

Civil Divisions

I've done my best since I started this blog to avoid controversial topics on the home front. I do a lot ranting about the battle we've fought here in Texas on the corn front, but that doesn't really get too personal, unless you're Texas Gov. Rick Perry. Governor Perry, you're a moron. There, now I'm getting personal.

My comrades in Texas may find it humorous or a waste of time that I would spend even a minute worrying or getting involved in disputes, rumors, gossip or anything that accompanies small town living back in the homeland.

But one fact remains, you can take the girl out of the small town, but you can't take the small town out of the girl...no matter how far away I may move.

When you love something, you become passionate about it. I love Prairie Grove, despite its occasional flaws that stem from its citizens. Every town has them, so it's just apart of life. That's what makes the world go around. I mean, what would the old farts down at the parts store have to talk about? What would the regulars at the Courts talk about? Without controversy, the small town as we know it would become stricken with the worst kind of demise - boredom.

Thanks to technology that's all fancy-like, I still somehow find myself in the middle of hometown debates. Some may say it's none of my business since I chose to leave, but my argument to them would be that I still pay taxes on a house and property there, so take that.

In most towns right now, if you mention the word "election" they assume you're talking about the presidential race between Obama and McCain. And, now while that in itself may stir up some debate anywhere you go, Prairie Grove, Ark., is different. You mention the "e" word in the Grove and you can see people's blood pressure rise...but not about who will carry out duties in the White House for the next four years. (Since I'm all about controversy today, I'll go ahead say thank goodness "W" will be going back to his ranch in Texas.)

No, their excitement rises for a different election...a more local election, and I will leave it at that.

At this point, I've lost my Texas readers on today's post. That's ok. This doesn't really concern you guys. Fellow Texans, yall come back later when I talk about something a little more fun, like tailgating, ok? Great. Glad we got that settled.

Now back to my soap box.

Perhaps today's blog post should have been brought to you by Charmin toilet paper or Bounty paper towels. There seems to be plenty of wiping up to do, and I would welcome any sponsors.

It never ceases to amaze me how certain issues can really spark a flare in people's hearts, and bring out the true colors in them. They set aside all reason because someone told them something and they grasp it without investigating all sides of the issue. The glory about living in a democracy is that we can have different views on issues or candidates. That is what makes this country great.

However, when the truth becomes tainted, stained or manipulated - that's when disappointment sets in, and the happy, everyone-loves-everyone town that is so dear to me becomes some what of a farce. People aren't always who we think they are.

Now, I realize that not everyone in the town has to agree on things. I'm not an idiot. We all have our right to free speech, and we all have our right to believe what we want to believe. That's what thousands of U.S. soldiers have died for through the past centuries.

But, to think that a controversy could tear apart friendships and separate all logical reasoning in people? I thought we had this all settled back on the cold winter day of December 7, 1862 when the North and South fought on the bloodied hillside of Prairie Grove.

Maybe we were due for a relapse. I mean, after all, it has been a while since such an issue has divided a town. I'm just waiting for the stoning to begin at the center of town, or maybe even a scarlet letter will be placed on someone's forehead? Perhaps we could consult the writings of witch hunters of the 1700s. They were good at confusing the truth about people.

It just saddens me to think that people are allowing such an issue to influence what they know is right. Everyone has their reasons for the decisions they make. Whether it be another individual's strong influence or bad gas, this issue has gotten out of hand.

I'll put my head on the chopping block any day for what I know is right. That's the way I was raised, and I'm not afraid to take a stand. If that makes me a "vigilante sewer dweller" then so be it. I've always loved the Ninja Turtles. But when I go to bed at night, I know in my heart that my intentions are pure, my reasons justified, and my cause worthy.

At the end of the day, we're all still Prairie Grove Tigers. (Again, if you're a Texan, I'm really impressed you're even still reading this, because I know you couldn't give a flip about this.) We'll all still see each other at ballgames. We will volunteer together at FFA events. We will pass each other on the road. Our kids will play sports together (I don't have any kids, but you get the point). We will all still be Tigers.

Get over yourselves. This never had to be personal. Throwing rocks like a little kid on a play ground isn't exactly what I call a good exercise of free speech. Regardless of what side of the fence I fall on in this issue, I will respect anyone's argument if they have solid ground to stand on. Just be reasonable about it. If you fall on the other side of this, I still like you, I just don't understand you. There's nothing personal about it.

Now, let's all be friends, burying the hatchet, and go see Bernice for lunch. I like the town a lot better when we can all eat pie together in a civil manner.

And, while we're at it, pray that Hurricane Ike doesn't wipe out the Texas coastline in the coming days - I'm supposed to be in Austin for the Razorback game.

Clotheslining

There is perhaps nothing more American than small town festivals, fairs or reunions. Traditionally, these events happen annually in their respective small towns, and represent a time when all of the town's citizens come together to celebrate something. Those who have moved away often come back and reconnect with old friends and family and their roots. Some use it as an excuse to catch up on the town's gossip. I mean, if there's that many people gathered together, there's got to be a good story somewhere.

In my hometown of Prairie Grove, Ark., we have the annual Clothesline Fair every Labor Day weekend. I was told this was once referred to as the "Clothesline Fair and Reunion" some time ago, but the "reunion" part has since been removed from the name. Regardless, it's still basically a reunion for the town, and I find it silly not to keep that in the name.

I mean, look at Dalhart's annual XIT Reunion that I wrote about a few weeks ago...just throwing that out there to you fellow PGers.

Anyway, it would be a mortal sin to not go home for the Clothesline Fair, so I went home for the long weekend.

Traditionally, the Clothesline Fair kicks off on Saturday morning with a parade. Then for the next three days, there's a large craft fair in the Prairie Grove Battlefield State Park. Every school group or civic group has a volunteer booth, selling corn dogs, kettle corn, snow cones, burgers...you get the picture. One challenge to the really involved people in the town is that it usually falls right after the Washington County Fair. So, once those two weeks are over, Prairie Grove citizens are exhausted. In fact, they even gave the school kids Tuesday after Labor Day off to recuperate.

You see all kinds of venders, selling things like purses made from old vinyls, pottery, jewelry, and a lot of other crap you really don't need but buy anyway.

It's a great time, though, because you see people you haven't seen in years. I noticed this year that everyone I saw that I went to high school with was pushing around baby strollers.

Back in the day, I didn't make it through a Clothesline Fair without purchasing a rubberband gun. This was a yearly tradition. Now, I just get my kicks from kettle corn.

In the parade, there's cheerleaders, the band, antique tractors, a few random four wheelers that no one really understands why they are in the parade, horses, election candidates, the grand marshal, and of course, square dance groups.

Yes, square dancing is a big deal in the Grove during the Clothesline Fair. If you're not from there, it may be a concept that is hard to grasp. It may sound silly. It may evoke a response, such as, "That's so Arkansas."

Whatever you may have to say about it, one fact remains: It's a big stinkin' deal in Prairie Grove. Hundreds gather to spectate or watch their kids "circle up eight" or get back to their partner for a right and left grand.

From the time you turn about four or five until you graduate high school, you're eligible to be in a group. You dance in exhibition until you get to junior high, then you start in competition.

And let me just mention, the competition of square dancing groups is just as big of a deal as winning the football game on Friday night. Surrounding towns like Farmington and Lincoln now bring groups over, and the rivalry that exists between the towns is still very evident on the dance floor. Group supporters bring noisemakers, they wear t-shirts sporting the groups' names. People go nuts.

On the topic of group names, let me give you a few examples: Jumpin' Jelly Beans (this was my group's name back in the day until our group fell apart in the mid-90s), Buckles and Bows, the famous Levi's and Lace, Dixie Dynamite...the list goes on. Except now, much to my irritation, there's groups named "Get R Done"...seriously people. What are you trying to make us look like? Rednecks or something?

A picture of my old group the Jumpin' Jelly Beans was printed in Southern Living magazine when we were like six years old. Yes, that is impressive, I know. Too bad I don't actually have that picture to display for you. Sorry.

There's typically around 60 groups. That number used to be a lot higher. But regardless, all the cool kids square dance. You start practicing as early as late July to get your moves down. In competition, the dances last as long as 10 minutes, and there's some pretty complicated moves in these dances folks.

You have four girls and four boys. Then you have a caller who shouts out the calls for the group to follow. When it comes to competition, callers from days gone by have become infamous for being tool sheds (this means "dorks" for you older folks). They devote their life's energies to the Clothesline Fair's square dancing and their quest for victory is nothing short of pathetic, yet entertaining.

But at the end of the day, the winners of the year's competition get to retain a pride that lasts a lifetime. In fact, my all-time favorite quote about the event is from my esteemed brother-in-law following his group's victory a few years ago:

"This year has been great because we beat Farmington in football and square dancing."

That may not be an exact quote, but it's pretty darn close. I think that pretty much sums up my point right there.

It's a special time for Prairie Grove, whether you still live there or not. As with any town's festival, the year wouldn't be complete without the Clothesline Fair.

Long live small town fairs.

Sky High

If you read my blog, you know I'm a huge fan of the sky. I love photographing the sky. It's one of God's creations that is absolutely mesmerizing to me.

It's different every hour. It changes constantly. Throw the sun in the mix, and you have an amazing sight.

Whenever I fly somewhere, I always head straight for a window seat. I usually don't spend the entire flight looking out the window, but I never get tired of looking out above the clouds.

On my last flight back to Lubbock from a trip home, the view out the window was no exception. It was a later flight, so the sky was in twilight. I don't have a picture of this, so you'll have depend on my mental image painting abilities here. There was a deep blue ribbon of sky sandwiched between two silky layers of cloud, that eventually gave way to white, puffy clouds frosted with golden color from the setting sun. Sounds pretty, huh? Too bad you can't see it.

Yesterday morning, I left Lubbock at 6:00am before the sun came up to head north back to XIT country in Dumas for a Monsanto Field Day (which, by the way, was the coolest field day I've ever been to...they gave away a four wheeler, two half circles of corn, three GPS units, some camp chairs and a bunch of other crap that I didn't win. I did, however, take home some cool caps.)

It was a cool morning that put the fever of fall into my bones. When I walked outside to get in my car, I could smell fall in the air. Each place has its own fall smell. Lubbock's smell is a sweet, crisp smell with a slight hint of feedlot. That sounds stinky, but it's not. I love that smell. It was 50 degrees in Lubbock and an even colder 46 degrees in Dumas, 180 miles north.

When the sun came up it looked as if it had set the prairie on fire. A burning orange glow bubbled up on the horizon. The sky remained mainly black, until the sun peaked a bit higher, turning it into a deep ocean blue sky.

I almost wrecked a couple times as I headed up I-27. I couldn't keep staring at the colors the sunrise was causing. I know this happens every morning, but it never fails to amuse me.


I finally had to pull over and let my photographic itch be scratched.

Even though it's a long drive to Dumas and points north of there where corn grows and FFA members meet, I still enjoy the drive. You can almost hear the theme music from Lonesome Dove playing as you drive down in the dips of the canyonesque (I just made up that word) landscape around the Canadian River. Oh, wait...maybe that was because I was playing the Lonesome Dove soundtrack.


Anyway, a blanket of morning fog was selectively covering part of the land and it managed to create a lovely morning sight.



I typically catch more sunsets than sunrises, but I'm always glad when I drag myself out of bed and witness my favorite of God's visual creations.

Cat Wigs: Revisited

The West Family animal collection has suffered a loss. Tinsley passed away into the kitty afterlife Monday after a lifelong battle with old age. He was 18 years old.

No, seriously, he really was that old...in human years.
As you may recall from my posting of "Cat Wigs" last month, Tinsley was a cat of great flair, charm and purring ability. As evident in "Cat Wigs" Tinsley also had great taste in hair styling.

Tinsley was laid to rest Tuesday in a Special Kitty cat food bag high on the hill with other animals that once romped around the West Farm.

So, here's to you Tinsley - May you always purr loudly and work your claws in feline foreverness.

Sidenote: I still question the sexual orientation of this cat. While most of the animals on the farm seemed to have accepted Tinsley for who he was, I still think there were a few who refused to look beyond his personal choices. Regardless, this fluffy feline will be missed.

Break Down

WARNING: No pictures in this post. Sorry Karen.

Sometimes bad luck just happens. Sometimes it happens all at once.

While there could be many, many worse things that could happen to me, the going trend right now is anything electronic is pretty much going to give one last gasping breath and then die.

Breakdown #1: Refrigerator

A couple of weeks ago, Mom called to tell me there was a pool of blood beneath my refrigerator in my Arkansas home. No, there wasn't a murder in my home...well, I guess something did have to die to create all of the blood...ANYWAY, my refrigerator went bye-bye. All of the hamburger meat in the freezer thawed and leaked out on to the floor. Thanks Mom for wiping that up. Pretty sure I owe you for that one.

Fortunately, thanks to Mom's desire to have a new refrigerator, I inherited their old one, which is still a good 30 years newer than the one in my house. My house isn't really that old, I mean it's probably 13-14 years old. However, the appliances in the house must have come over on the Ark.

Breakdown #2: Fuel Pump

Last week was my birthday. Yeah, yeah big deal. The day before my birthday I was presented with a lovely gift: a failing fuel pump on my Tahoe, which I affectionately call the "Green Hoe"). I was driving to work, whistling a tune with the song birds as I drove by, when my car began to lurch when I accelerated. I immediately knew this little lurching wasn't going to be cheap.

Fortunately, I wasn't out in BFE Texas or in the middle of a corn field somewhere when it decided to go out. I was able to drive to the nearest Chevy dealer and $1000 later I got a brand spankin' new fuel pump and fuel filter and some overpriced labor from Shamrock Chevy.

Breakdown #3: iPod

I love my iPod. I take it everywhere. It goes on trips. It plays in my car. It sings to me in my house. Sometimes I even wake up to it. I've had it since my last semester in grad school, so I guess it's about a year and a half old. It holds a brazillion songs, movies, pictures...it's entertainment in a tiny, hand held rectangle.

About a month ago, my beloved iPod decided that it didn't want to emit sound out of its headphones or anything else you could hook it up to. This made me worried. So, I read discussion boards on Apple.com and learned that if you press really hard on one area of the iPod it will play. So, after a painful press and purple thumb, it started up again...but only for a brief moment. I also read that you could put it in the refrigerator for 30 minutes and that would make it start again...oh, the irony.

Breakdown #4: Laptop

I bought a Mac laptop four years ago the summer prior to my senior year in college. I've loved Macs ever since. It's been loyal. It's helped me through long nights of homework. I've taken it on the road and loaded pictures on to it hastily as I drove down the road to another story interview. It's been my link to the outside world.

Monday and Tuesday were corn board meeting days for us. We met in the Embassy Suites meeting room here in Lubbock, and for two days I didn't really leave that room. The second day, I brought my laptop to tap in to the wireless Internet provided by the hotel.

I would soon discover that my other beloved Mac product was sick and ailing. The hard drive went out. In the computer world, this is like your pace-maker failing, or a brain aneurysm. I searched frantically for a Mac doctor and found some dude that works out of his house. I took it there yesterday, and I'm sure a few hundred dollars later I will have my Mac back.

Breakdown #5: Cell phone

I was jumping in the Tahoe yesterday morning to go to the corn board meeting, and I had an arm full of objects (including my soon-to-be doomed laptop). As I was shutting the door, I heard a crunch. It was my cell phone being slammed in the car door. It still miraculously worked, but you could only see half of the screen and I had to bend it back straight to put the battery cover back on it.

Luckily, we had some phone insurance on our plan in the office and I got a replacement mailed to me immediately and I got it today, less than 24 hours after I reported the damage. It almost made me a believer in cell phone insurance.

So, there you have it. I seem to be having a problem with electronics. I just hope this doesn't carry over to planes, because I'm getting on one Friday to head home...

I'm just glad I don't have any electronics hooked up to any organs in my body right now.

The Older the Violin, the Sweeter the Music

My favorite movie ever in the history of the world is where the title of today's blog post came from. If you don't know it, then maybe you should do a little research.

If you put dialog with the picture above, it might go something like this:

Me: "I love Cherry Coke!"
Natalie: "Hey! I want one!
Me: "Aren't our matching Levi's cool?"
Natalie: "Why on earth did Mom give us semi-mullets?"
Me: "I don't know, but it's way more obvious that we have mullets if you wear a pony tail. I'd take that down if I were you."
Natalie: "No, because my hair will get caught in the hood of my sweet puffer coat."
Me: "Where are we? On the surface of Mars?"

Actually, we were at Devil's Den State Park. One of our favorite Sunday drive destinations back in the day.

We turn 26 today. It's cool to be able to say we, but I don't really know any different. A birthday is traditionally a celebration for one person. But when you are used to sharing a birthday with someone, then it's a little strange when that other person is 600 miles away.

Here's our parents. They are responsible for creating a double person.

Can't you just hear our little high pitched, squeaky voices in the cab of this tractor with Dad? Natalie is probably saying, "I want to go swimming at Meme Francis' house!" and I'm probably saying, "What does this button do?"

And here is our Mom. Isn't she ravishing in her red polyester rodeo queen ensemble? She still wears it sometimes.

Ok, not really. But it would be really funny if she did. That's Ole' Silver in the picture. He lived to be like 467 years old. He even has a tombstone.

You could tell at an early age that we would have very different personalities. If you can't tell which one is which in the picture below, then I'm kind of wondering why you're reading this blog to begin with...who are you people anyway?

Observe the red boots, white hat and matching Levi jeans and jacket. Now observe the yellow sweatpants, gray boots and pink gloves. This is how we roll on the farm. If you still don't know who is who, please stop reading. I have no use for you.

Now, observe twin picture exhibit F: the smiley/crying kitty picture. One has a Big Bird cap, and the other is obviously very upset about something. The smiley kid must be up to something. Either that or the crying kid is just irritated she didn't get a Big Bird cap, too.

I would also like to point out the matching hoody jackets and Velcro shoes. Those are freakin' sweet. I wonder if Mom said, "Girls, take Blacky and go sit in front of those flowers. I want to take your picture."

So, Big Bird twin probably picked up the cat first and began to sit down for the photo shoot, when upset twin probably said, "I want to hold Blacky!"

At that point, Big Bird twin probably said, "Fine, but I get to eat the pork out of the Pork 'N Beans at dinner!"

Yes, this is something we used to fight over in our youth. While this seems rather disgusting now, we fought passionately over the hunk of pork out of the canned beans.

Seriously, if you can't identify who is who in these pictures, go away.

So, here's to us, and here's to the last four years in our 20s! For your birthday, Natalie, I'll let you eat the pork out of the Pork 'N Beans when I get home next.