At Mom's House

Here's a pic of mom and me at her house. She loves to fish and is wearing her favorite fishing hat. She's also a grandmother/great aunt and has a pool. You can imagine how much the little ones in the family love to visit here.

First Cousins, Once Removed

On Friday, mom had her Thanksgiving dinner with her side of the family and it turned out really well. It was great to see my cousins and their kids (gosh, they grow up so fast). My first-cousins-once-removed were very entertaining and well-behaved kiddos.

Mom and I had placed the extra leaves in the dining room table and everyone actually sat down together to eat. In Texas, football trumps everything so it's very important to plan the big meal in between games if you want everyone sitting at the table together.

A couple of years ago, I'd made an incredible spread for Thanksgiving while visiting here at my mom's. It was a knock-your-socks off buffet. Everyone filled their plates, bypassed the dining room table and plopped down in front of the TV.

I may have created a meal that looked like the cover of Good Housekeeping, but I'd also served it during the 4th quarter of the Dallas Cowboys game. You just don't do that in these here parts.

At the first thanksgiving, the Pilgrims had fought off starvation, pestilence, disease, and annihilation in order to celebrate their first meal.

Try timing the big meal so that it ends up on the table in between football games in Texas. THEN you can talk.

The Family Dog

My niece got married a couple of weeks ago. This is the family dog, a Newfoundland named Jake.

A Walton Thanksgiving

My younger brother, Brad, hosted Thanksgiving this year at his family's house in San Antonio. His youngest, Rayce age 11, has recently began taking cello lessons (yay!). His daughter, Dyanne age 21, is an incredible flautist. My brother retrieved his baritone from high school and his wife, Michella, plays the violin. They put on a little concert for us after dinner which was just about the most charming thing I've ever seen and heard.
And here is the table, laden with our thankful repast. (My brother makes THE most incredible fried turkey you've ever tasted).

Tonight, we all get together at my mom's house with her side of the family. Cousins are arriving from Dallas with their kids, my aunt, uncle, in-laws and outlaws. It will probably be something between a hoedown and a riot.

The plot continues . . .

Home Cookin'

I just had some good "home cookin" today. My folks live very close to the Texas Gulf Coast, so seafood from the gulf is food that says 'home' to me. So, today we had one of my absolute favorite meals, fried oysters.
I'm home.

And here's a picture of the mama bird feeding a fried oyster to the baby bird.

I'm in Texas

I flew down to Texas a couple of days ago to visit my family for the holidays. It was great to get away and leave all the work-crap behind. Believe me.

I got to O'Hare in plenty of time but forgot about the new regulations concerning what one can bring on the airplane. The security guy took my hair spray and toothpaste from me and I had just bought a new, expensive tube of Sensodyne toothpast just before getting on the train for the airport. Oh well. At least I hadn't packed my new container of Halston cologne because that would have been disasterous. I told the security guy that he could have my hair spray but my mom will comment on my slovenly hair. It's in God's hands now.

It was a wonderful flight. No one was sitting next to me and I got my favorite seat on the airplane; the one in the emergency exit next to the window. No one spoke to me and I was able to iPod the whole way, listen to Palestrina and watch the world go by.

I arrived in Austin and got a rental car zippy-fast. In fifteen minutes, I was headed south for the two-hour drive to my parent's house.

You know, the longer I'm away from Texas, the more "Texan" things I notice. As I passed through the first rural town (Lockhart, Texas), I couldn't help but notice: "Gosh, there are a lot of pick-up trucks in Texas!" There really are. Big, huge pick-up trucks. These folks must have lots of stuff to haul around even thought none of them had anything in the pick-up portions of their pick-up trucks.

There are also lots of huge barbecue establishments, all claiming to be the best and the oldest. I will admit to eating some pretty amazing barbecue around these parts but I don't know why a town of six thousand people requires seven huge barbecue places.

The Dairy Queen in Lockhart had "Frito pie" on sale. I'd forgotten about Frito pies at the Dairy Queen.

You can't get anymore Texan than that.

I arrived at my folks house in time for dinner so we went to the local Mexican restaurant in town. It really has amazing food and huge portions. At a table next to us, a high school lad was tossing a football in the air while at the table. I mentioned it to my dad and he laughed and said, "Well, you never know. . . "

Amazing. A football at a restaurant dinner table.

You can't get anymore Texan than that.

Pics from skating

I finally made it to the rink today. It felt great.

Texas-Bound

I'm flying home to Texas tomorrow for ten whole days and have been busy with all the nit-picky things to do an remember before taking a long trip:

1. Eat everything in the fridge
2. Clean the apartment really well in case I die in a plane crash and then my parents will think I keep a really nice apartment.
3. Change my voice mail at work. I forgot to do that on Friday.
4. Download new music onto the iPod so I'll have something to do on the airplane (before it crashes, you know).
5. Remember to bring Valium for the airplane ride. If it crashes, I won't care.
6. DON'T bring a Chinese cleaver in my back pack. I've done that twice and airport security really get don't like it.
7. Find out what that weird smell is in my apartment and get rid of it.
8. Give key to Miss Healthypants so she can retrieve my mail.
9. Put chef's knife in back-pack so I can make Thanksgiving dinner when I get there. NO, WAIT! Airport security doesn't like that. Don't do that.
10. Bring cell phone charger. I hate it when I don't have one.

I'm really looking forward to getting away for ten days. Work has been hallacious, or rather, the clients have been absolutely vile and nasty to me and it'll feel so good to leave them behind.

I know that doesn't sound very compassionate, but I'm human, so there.

A Night at the Theatre

Mis Healthypants and I had a great time attending our friend, Gabrielle's performance the other night. We found the theatre early in plenty of time for a nice dinner at Reza's, a Persian restaurant.

Actually, we had a feast in which we got to select three appetizers and three entrees: Baba ganoush, a cucumber salad, dolmas, then a lentil soup, Cornish game hens in pomegranate sauce, kebabs, seared scallops, dill rice and dessert. Wow.

After all the hell that's been going on with work lately, it was a breath of fresh air to do something "refined" such as a nice dinner and theatre rather than dealing with so much ugliness as I've been doing lately.

In my last entry, I mentioned that I'd write more about our friend, Gabrielle. I found the following review from the Chicago Tribune:

"An actress with exceptionally good looks, an exposed cleavage, and an amused hauteur, she is coy about her life before her male-to-female surgery, but she commands your attention every time she hits the stage." - The Chicago Tribune.

That's right. Gabrielle is pretty fascinating in that she wasn't always 'Gabrielle'. (Actually, I don't even know what her male name was). She made the final transition about fourteen years ago in her mid-twenties, having the surgery in Montreal. You can read about her story here.

Like I said before, Gabrielle is a wonderful pal and funny as hell, too.

And frankly, I don't think one can have too many friends who are funny as hell.

Going to the Theatre

Miss Healthypants and I are going to the theatre tonight. One of our dear friends, Gabrielle, is in a play and has received great reviews. She and Miss Healthypants met in an acting class a couple of years ago and we've been pals ever since. It looks like Gabrielle finally "made it" and we're going tonight to cheer her on.

Here's a pic of Gabrielle. Isn't she purdy? She's funny as hell, too.

More about Gabby later.

The skating rink opens today!

I'm excited.

The ice rink near my apartment opens today for the winter season. I absolutely love to skate there after work and on the weekends.

It reminds me of when I was a little kid in my little bitty home town in Texas. Once a year during each summer, a portable skating rink would come to town. As they'd set up the canvas tent and wooden skating surface, I'd just be beside myself waiting for the first day it would open. It was just a few blocks from our house, so I'd go every chance I'd get.

I'd rent my little roller skates and just be a little bandit out there. Of course, this was Texas in the summer time, so you'd really work up a sweat. I'd take a break, gulp down an icy cold Grape Nehi from a bottle (remember those?) and whizz back out on the rink for as long as my dad or mom would let me. I remember that the rink had this tinny-sounding music playing over the loudspeaker, usually On the Bayou.

Jambalya, crawfish pie, me-o, my-o . . .

So, today I feel like I'm six years old again. I'll get to go skating again later today after work. Instead of a wooden skating surface under a canvas tent in a small town, it's on ice under "The Bean" sculpture at Millenium Park. Instead of pausing with a Grape Nehi, it'll be a latte at Starbuck's. The details have changed but the feeling remains the same.

It's good to be a kid again.

I speak "Starbuckese"

Just before hopping on the train to work the other day, I popped in to one of the many neighborhood Starbuck's and placed my order.

"I'll have a Venti half-caf redeye, no room, please."

As I was saying that, I realized how odd it sounded. What's worse, is that there are thousands of Starbuck's employees that can understand this new "coffee-speak."

The next time I'm filling out an application, I think I should check the 'yes' box where it asks if you're bilingual.

WTF?

I just noticed that all my links that I'd so laboriously posted are all gone now. Has anyone else had this same problem? And what about this new version of blogger?

Santorum Defeated -- Gays Hospitalized

Philadelphia -- As Senator Rick Santorum, known for his opposition to gay rights, gave a heartfelt concession speech on Nov. 7, emergency rooms all across Pennsylvania were inundated by thousands of gays and lesbians across the Keystone State.

A spokesperson for Our Lady of the Resurrection hospital in Philadelphia reported, "We saw thousands of hand and digit injuries, apparently from too many over-enthusiastic high-fives experienced by our gay and lesbian patients."

Meanwhile, the ex-Senator has reportedly purchased a used mobile home for himself and his family since he will now be earning the federal minimum wage of $5.15 per hour.

A "Little" is coming

Remember way back in September when I mentioned that I was applying to be a Big Brother with the Big Brother/Big Sister program? Well, after a very long and extensive application process, I just got notified that I was approved to be a Big Brother. I'm really happy about that.

The application process was VERY thorough, as well it should be. For example, during a home interview, the social worker asked to look through all my cabinets, drawers and closets. (For firearms, weapons, drugs, I suppose). She also asked me to open my internet browser so she could have a look at my internet history. That was a suprise, but understandable. However, it also felt kinda oogey to have a stranger see that I'd just ordered a re-supply of Colonix (hey, that stuff is amazing!) and that I'd Googled a college friend named Deborah Weinberg from Buffalo.

Anyway, I was approved and I'll be matched up with a "Little" next week. I didn't specify any restrictions with whom I'd like to be matched (race, disability, all that stuff). I know it will be a little guy between the ages of 7 and 14 years old. There is also a big demand for Big Brothers -- there are over 500 "Littles" waiting to be matched. I'm also glad that BBBS puts all the applicants through such a thorough and extensive application process.

So, what kind of a "Little" would I like to be matched up with? Sure, there's the idealist vision of a kid who will instantly blossom with every sentence I utter. But I'm old, very wise and know that'll not be the case.

I remember first hearing about Big Brothers when I was fourteen. The guy that often baby-sat for me when I was little (Byron) went off on a football scholarship to University of Houston and then played for the Houston Oilers in the early 70's. We went to see him play in the Astrodome in Houston when I was fourteen, accompanied by his "Little" who was a clean-cut, shy white kid about twelve years old. His "Big" was a clean-cut, white, pro football player.

Just like in the commercials.

I do NOT envision that scenario. . . .

Perhaps my "Little" will be just like "Timmyyy!" on Southpark. That's just fine. I'm sure there's an awful lot of "Timmyyyy!" in each of us that could have used some compassion and healing.

(The Iwanski's have seen me work with my clients. They can attest to my ability to compass and heal my ass off).

But what if my "Little" wants to go to a football game? Iwanski proposed that scenario last night,

Well, I would buy the best seats I could afford, because that would make him really happy. I'd really try to engage him by having him explain what the hell a "first down" is, and later feign excitment when it occurs. The Little might enjoy that.

Then a couple of weeks later, I'd gently advocate a much less violent activity, such as a visit to the Chicago Modern Art Museum. He might throw up, but I'm "good" with that too.

But, I have to admit. Here's what I'd really like to do for my "Little" right away. . . .

1. Take him to Macy's for lot's of little bitty sweater-vests. (But not to wear at school. I know. He'll only get beat up).

2. Teach him not to use 'like' and 'know'm say'n' as discourse markers.

3. Teach him what discourse markers are.

4. If he likes roller coasters, buy 2007 Season Passes to Six Flags. No questions asked.

5. Have him take Portia, (The Most Wonderful Dog in the World) to Doggy Beach on a regular basis. I cannot praise Canine Therapy enough.

6. Give him a wad of cash, have him negotioate a menu in a nice restaurant, figure the tip and pay the bill for table. That's one of the best lessons my mom and grandmother taught me and my brother when we were pre-teens. It needs to be passed on.

7. Show him everything that's good in Chicago.

8. Teach him how to ice skate backwards at Millenium Park.

Gosh, I wish him the very best. I really do . . . .

More Pics of Ground Zero

Our CEO at work just emailed some nifty and uplifting pics of the damage to the building where I work. See the bricks smashing the hole in the roof? Now, stick your head in the hole and you'll be looking in the office where I kept all my client files.

All the clients have been placed in various local YMCA's until the building can be repaired and occupied. I know that must be a terrible hardship for them since they literally left with only the clothes on their backs. Many of them are missing their medication, i.d's, cell phones etc. I realize that none of this was their fault and that it's a colassal inconvenience.

The thing is, we've worked our butts off night and day ensuring that they had roofs over their heads, food, clothing and transportation.

Still, so many of them are feeling so much entitlement and making ridiculous demands. I met with a whole group of them at a YMCA today and, basically, I was a punching bag; a scratching post. I listened and felt like I gave some really good, professional, compassionate responses. I won't say it was easy, but I left there having listened to their complaints for over two hours and felt good about how I'd handled it. Years ago, I came across a slogan that has served me very well in this line of work:

"Listen without defending; Speak without offending."

Today, I really think I did that but, oh, it was difficult. As you might know, My People are very good at hurling quick, caustic remarks. If I'm so inclined, I can pretty much verbally filet someone. So, here are some of the remarks I've heard from some clients, what I wanted to say, and what I actually said.

Client: "I'm not able to work as much because the Y has an 11:00 curfew. I lose an hour of work each night and I want a reimbursement for the lost wages!

What I wanted to say: "Rub a lamp."

What I said: "Have your tried asking your employer to change your hours? I'll be glad to talk to him if you'd like for me to."

Client: "I heard everyone got fifty dollars the night of the fire. I wasn't around and I want my fifty dollars!"

What I wanted to say: "People in Hell want ice water."

What I said: "The fifty dollars was handed out by the Department of Human Services and not by our agency. It was just to get people through the first couple of nights but you're welcome to call DHS if you'd like. "

Client: "I'm not gonna pay my rent when we get back!"

What I wanted to say: "I'll alert the media."

What I said: "I understand you're upset, but I'd really hate to see anyone jeopardize their housing over this."

This went on for over two hours.

I'm tired.

More Pics of Ground Zero

Our CEO at work just emailed some nifty and uplifting pics of the damage to the building where I work. See the bricks smashing the hole in the roof? Now, stick your head in the hole and you'll be looking in the office where I kept all my client files.

All the clients have been placed in various local YMCA's until the building can be repaired and occupied. I know that must be a terrible hardship for them since they literally left with only the clothes on their backs. Many of them are missing their medication, i.d's, cell phones etc. I realize that none of this was their fault and that it's a colassal inconvenience.

The thing is, we've worked our butts off night and day ensuring that they had roofs over their heads, food, clothing and transportation.

Still, so many of them are feeling so much entitlement and making ridiculous demands. I met with a whole group of them at a YMCA today and, basically, I was a punching bag; a scratching post. I listened and felt like I gave some really good, professional, compassionate responses. I won't say it was easy, but I left there having listened to their complaints for over two hours and felt good about how I'd handled it. Years ago, I came across a slogan that has served me very well in this line of work:

"Listen without defending; Speak without offending."

Today, I really think I did that but, oh, it was difficult. As you might know, My People are very good at hurling quick, caustic remarks. If I'm so inclined, I can pretty much verbally filet someone. So, here are some of the remarks I've heard from some clients, what I wanted to say, and what I actually said.

Client: "I'm not able to work as much because the Y has an 11:00 curfew. I lose an hour of work each night and I want a reimbursement for the lost wages!

What I wanted to say: "Rub a lamp."

What I said: "Have your tried asking your employer to change your hours? I'll be glad to talk to him if you'd like for me to."

Client: "I heard everyone got fifty dollars the night of the fire. I wasn't around and I want my fifty dollars!"

What I wanted to say: "People in Hell want ice water."

What I said: "The fifty dollars was handed out by the Department of Human Services and not by our agency. It was just to get people through the first couple of nights but you're welcome to call DHS if you'd like. "

Client: "I'm not gonna pay my rent when we get back!"

What I wanted to say: "I'll alert the media."

What I said: "I understand you're upset, but I'd really hate to see anyone jeopardize their housing over this."

This went on for over two hours.

I'm tired.