Saturday

I woke up feeling refreshed. That didn’t last long.
I threw together a quick breakfast—a green chili cheese omelet—and had my coffee. Fire and caffeine, the only way to start the day. Then it was time to get to work. The joy of homeownership. I needed to get up on the roof and cut away a partially fallen branch.

My balance isn’t quite what it used to be (thank you, aging), so I brought both the chainsaw and trimmers up the ladder in one go.. Oh, the joy. Thanks to my damn back, I have to watch myself on ladders these days. Luckily, it was a quick cut, and I was down in no time.

I cleared the branch from the roof and gave it a good kick to send it crashing to the ground. It was still partially attached to the tree, but momentum and weight took care of that.

The fun part came with disposal, which required the chainsaw and some time. I pretty much wore myself out with the chore. I’ve been feeling a bit of a seasonal funk lately, so it didn’t take much to drain me. I’m apparently allergic to autumn.

Since there was no tailgating to attend, I whipped up some lunch for us—German potatoes and bratwurst. It was a nice afternoon for grilling. I was actually impressed with the potatoes, a recipe I came up with years ago. It reminded me that I need to make more German food for Oktoberfest. Perfect excuse to go full schnitzel.

I’m not entirely sure what happened to the rest of the afternoon. It sort of disappeared. I mopped the floors, cut up old shirts for rags, and headed to the mall with Yvette and Lola to check out wedding rings and do a little shopping. I looked at dress shoes while the girls mostly browsed.

Yvette’s grandmother was turning ninety in a couple of days, so a big gathering was planned while everyone was in town. We had brisket with all the good stuff that comes with it. Yvette’s family is so much larger than mine, and it’s always something special when they get together. How it doesn’t dissolve into total chaos is kind of a miracle.

Sunday

Sunday morning, the dogs must’ve plotted to drive me insane. Ever since Owen’s recent surgery, Rosco has been glued to him—barking, whining, hovering. I figured it would stop eventually, but it’s just gotten more ridiculous. Poor Owen seems confused, and Rosco’s behavior is compulsive, which is unusual for such a mellow dog.

I made myself some brisket egg tacos for breakfast while the girls went off to church. For some reason, I worried the outing might end with everyone in a bad mood. Mothers and daughters…

Later, I made a quick trip to the store for a few essentials and started planning meals for the week. That’s kind of my thing. I’ve got some creative dishes lined up, but it’s impossible not to spend a ton of money grocery shopping these days.

The girls and I met up with my mom for lunch at a restaurant we used to visit all the time. The owner is a neighbor of mine. As soon as I walked in, he greeted me with a hug and poured me a tequila shot and a beer. It’s a long-standing tradition. I tried to put a stop to it a few years ago after my head injury, but… traditions die hard. A single shot and a beer weren’t going to ruin my day or keep me from finishing what needed to get done.

I hadn’t eaten there in a while and had no idea what I wanted—so many good choices. I went with the cheese enchiladas. They make them differently than anywhere else in town. Something about that sauce and the gooey cheese… Comfort food.

It was a good lunch—nice to spend time with my mom and the family. Good to have some laughs together.

Later, Yvette and I made a big Sam’s run to restock some essentials. I swung by my mom’s again to visit and grab some of her sweet pickled jalapeños. We had a simple dinner with good conversation. Alaya’s dad came over for a visit, and I capped off the night watching an old X-Files episode.

All in all, a nice weekend—even with my annoying seasonal yuck. Work, family, food, and a little tequila.

Homecoming Week!!

Lots of fantastic traditions on campus: door decorations, the Blue and Gold Bash, a remembrance ceremony, a bonfire, and many more. The general vibe is excitement.

On Tuesday, Hazel turned 10. Damn. That makes me both happy and a little devastated. I remember when she was just a few months old—like it was yesterday. Time shouldn’t fly so damn quickly.  It just needs to chill the fuck out!  She’s still the same sweet girl she’s always been; she just moves a little slower now, just like I do.

When she was a puppy, she was such an athletic dog—she could catch a flying frisbee mid-air. It was majestic. My sweet girl.

For her birthday, I went out and found her some doggie ice cream and one of her favorite toys: a pig. Ever since she was a puppy, she’s had a thing for pig toys. She carries them around like they’re her babies. She was very happy to have another one that oinks.

I sure love her, and I’ll cherish all the time I have with her. Not much in life has brought me as much happiness over the years as my sweet Hazel. She’s been one of the greatest joys of my life. I’m a dog dad—and she’s my first girl.

Wednesday I was really into the homecoming spirit—it was the day of the Blue and Gold Bash. I’ve attended every year they’ve held it since 2019. Unfortunately, this year it didn’t kick off at its usual 5 o’clock. I waited until 5:20 and left. I had a social hour to attend with Yvette.

I was a little pissed.  It always started at five. They advertised it as starting at five. What the fuck, people?

Anyway, Yvette’s boss had invited us to a Cyber Security social at a restaurant called Angry Cactus. I was a little out of my element and worried I wouldn’t know anyone—military folks and cyber nerds. The mayor was going to be there (who turned out to be very nice and approachable, actually).

I ended up spending the most time talking to Yvette’s boss’s husband about a town we both love: Alpine, Texas. Every time I’ve spent time with the guy, I get along with him more and more. I kind of feel like we would’ve had a good time hanging out if we’d known each other and were the same age.

I also had the chance to chat with another dean from campus. We talked about our old department (I was a student worker there) and how so many of the guys we knew are now retiring. It’s sad to see the old crew move on. That department was where my campus journey began—my fellow rock nerds.

Overall, it was a good evening. Good conversation, fun moments, and all of it outside my usual comfort zone. I like that. Yvette’s boss keeps inviting me to things, and it’s always fun. She’s a great person.

They didn’t have enough food for everyone—that one’s on the restaurant. Assholes.

So Yvette and I ended the night with a $4-for-4 chili dog deal and called it a night. Haha. Nothing says classy post-social-hour meal like a chili dog.

Still disappointed about missing the Blue and Gold Bash, I tried to find another way to enjoy Homecoming Week on Thursday: door decorations. I took a little time out of my day to drive around campus and check out the eleven departments that decorated their doorways. I knew where to look because Yvette—yes, she was a judge for the door decorations—had the inside scoop.

Anyway, it was a lot of fun. Some of the departments really went all out this year. It didn’t quite scratch the itch left by missing the Blue and Gold Bash, but it did help take the edge off.

The week was finally coming to a close—thank the heavens for that. One of those weeks that was somehow both busy and dragging along like a dog scratching its ass on the carpet. I don’t know how that happens. Maybe it was the lingering seasonal stuffiness that made it feel excruciatingly long.

Nothing much exciting happened at work—just the final day grind. After work, I was sent to the liquor store to grab the fixings to make Yvette an adult beverage. I thought my week was long—she had me fucking beat.

That night, after dinner, it was off to the bonfire. I’ve been attending the event since 2021, making this year five. This was the first time I wasn’t there alone. It was a different experience with my family in tow, but a good one. It was nice to have something to share. Love them.

Happy Fucking Friday!!!

Horror Season 2025

Prince of Darkness.

This is a movie I’ll always consider one of the first truly terrifying films I ever feasted my eyes upon. I was also way too young to be watching it. It’s one of the first scary movies I can remember seeing as a kid.

It was a night with the entire family — my mom and dad, uncle and aunt, and cousins. I guess they thought it was okay for me to watch. I was probably eight. Maybe seven. I don’t know. I remember sitting on a blanket in front of the TV in the living room, the adults filling up the couches.

Dread. Absolute dread.

It was a great — if not absolutely terrifying — experience.

It left me scarred for life.

And I truly fucking mean that.

There’s a scene in the movie that wiggled its way into my still-developing brain: a student disintegrates into large black beetles. He just falls apart into a writhing mass of them. Because of this, to this day, I’m terrified of beetles. I hate them. In large numbers, they creep me the fuck out.

And honestly? I’m grateful for that.

John Carpenter is one of my favorite directors. He’s made some true masterpieces:
The original Halloween. The Thing. In the Mouth of Madness. The Fog. Vampires. Big Trouble in Little China. Escape from New York.

All of these films hold special places in my heart, filled with memories I cherish. But none hit as hard as Prince of Darkness.

For years after that first viewing, I didn’t even know the name of the film that had haunted me most of my life. It wasn’t until one evening in high school, while browsing the horror section at Hollywood Video (RIP), that I happened upon it again. I liked John Carpenter and was intrigued by the VHS case and plot summary. It sounded familiar, so I rented it.

And then, that intensifying dread washed over me as the film progressed. When the beetle scene hit, the memories of that night years ago came rushing back. It was like I had suppressed it. Suddenly, it all made sense. My fear of beetles.

Most of the actors in this film are relatively unknown. Donald Pleasence is top-billed — Carpenter had worked with him previously on a little movie called Halloween. Dennis Dun and Victor Wong are great in this too; they also appeared in Big Trouble in Little China. Peter Jason has a small part — he always has a small part in Carpenter’s movies. Aside from Alice Cooper’s glorified cameo, I don’t recognize any of the other actors from anything else.

And honestly? They’re not very good. Campy as hell.

But that kind of plays to the movie’s advantage. These are just regular folks in a fucking end-of-the-world scenario.

So, what’s the film about?

It’s about religion and science teaming up. A story of a group of college students, their professors, and a priest investigating an ancient cylinder of swirling green liquid — the physical manifestation of Satan.

I think it’s a very Lovecraftian vision of biblical entities — more scientific than spiritual. The concept of evil as a manifested extension of anti-matter (the dark mirroring the light), along with religion and science converging to study — and combat — that evil? That’s epic. It’s a big idea. And the film does it justice.

It makes evil feel more grounded. And therefore, more terrifying.

The evil spreads from within the church where the liquid is kept. The Catholic Church has been trying to keep it contained for centuries, but its power is growing. At first, only the schizophrenic homeless population outside are affected, but soon those within the church begin to succumb to its influence.

What does this mean?

The people become zombie-like. Or maybe it’s more like possession? Either way, they become the embodiment of evil. Anyone trying to escape meets a gruesome end. Those who remain are slowly picked off — and then revived as something else.

Not alive. Not dead. Just… evil.

Methodical. Emotionless. Creepy as hell.

One of the most effective moments is when a student, in the early phase of possession, retains just enough of himself to realize what’s happening. He chooses the most extreme way to stop it — cutting his own throat with a shard of mirror while singing Amazing Grace.

It sends chills down the spine.

In the end, only four of the fourteen characters survive.

One thing I really loved in Prince of Darkness was the shared dream sequence— the shadowy figure shown in what looks like amateur video footage, accompanied by a cryptic announcement that it’s a transmission being broadcast from the future. (Probably a warning to stop the devil from being released.)

That bit was absolutely great — unnerving, and it lingers in your head long after the credits roll.

And the ending?

I’ll leave it at that. Open for interpretation.

Jalapeño

Leftover bratwurst with mac n cheese.

Chicken tacos.

Vinegar BBQ pork ribeye with some roasted asparagus and potato’s.

Korean chicken bbq bowl with broccoli, rice and kimchi.

Yvette’s lasagna with my Italian veggie blend.

Balsamic steak with pepper and veggies.

What a busy weekend.

Saturday I slept in a little, 9:30.  Once I was out of bed I found that Yvette and the girls had made some pancakes.  Unfortunately, I can’t really eat that… damn diabetes, always ruining things.    Instead whipped up some chorizo egg tacos.  Damn tasty.  I love the simplicity of chorizo and egg.  Spicy greasy gold.    

I had a little yard work I needed to knock out.  That last heavy rain left a messy bunch of run-off.  My French drain seems to be working but just not well enough to handle that volume of water so quickly.  I should probably install another one.  Pisses me off.

I cleaned up and ran some Saturday errands.  I was hell bent on finding a university hat for a decent price.  The bookstore pricing… ridiculous.  You would think that they had gold embroidery.  I had no luck. 

Time for a little tailgating.    

Pink Out the Concho Valley

It was Breast Cancer Awareness Month, so we all showed our support by wearing some pink. They were giving out pink shirts too—which I gladly grabbed. I needed another one anyway, and this time they were free.

I ran into a few friends, Art in particular. He even offered me a drink. That man had a cooler with Rumple Minze ready to go. I hate the stuff, but how could I refuse? The man came to our wedding, for fuck’s sake.  Drinking bad liquor together is just part of the friendship contract. It’s always a great pleasure to see him—he’s been a good friend for over 20 years.

Most of the food was solid. We found some ridiculously good cheesy potato salad right off the bat. Also, ribs.  Always the ribs.  I later found some fantastic buffalo chicken cheese dip. The inside food offerings, though—not so much. I guess when they handed off responsibility for the event, the good food didn’t transfer over with it.

The girls all left early. I think they’d been around each other a little too much that day, and the irritation showed—mothers and daughters dynamics kind of thing. Plus, it was a bit hot, and Yvette needed to get ready for the main event later in the day.

We had a very cultured date night. Yvette’s boss gave us tickets to attend a special symphony concert. Pianist-focused.

I had a hard time figuring out what to wear. I rarely dress up, and when I do, I tend to go all out—full suit and all.  Usually for big events like weddings and such.  Maybe I need to invest in some middle-ground clothing.  Church clothing. 

The concert was beautiful—just delightful. We had great seats and, thankfully, no one sitting right next to us. The talent of the two piano players was astonishing. For the encore, they both played on the same piano, side by side, even crossing arms. I was wowed by the spectacle.

We left at intermission, not realizing it was just intermission.  Everyone was getting up.  I guess for refreshments and the potty.  We left out the side door.  Quietly. Oh well—we saw the part of the show we came for.

Afterward, we headed out to the lake for some pizza. The place had only been open for three months. We ordered the buffalo chicken pizza and both agreed—it was fantastic. The atmosphere was stellar.  A crisp October night, next to the love of my life, eating pizza by the lake.  That’s the dream.

Sunday, Sunday.
How you sneak up so quietly and quickly.
Bastard day. The bane of the week.
The polite reminder that Monday is lurking around the corner.

We went over to the in-laws’ and had an exceptionally fine lunch of pulled pork. The others made sandwiches or stuffed potatoes. Bloody carbs. I couldn’t indulge, thanks to my sugar levels being higher than I’d like. Once again, damn the diabetes.

After stuffing myself (with what I could eat), I went home to make some Halloween decorations. I had a mop stick, a pumpkin pail, a witch hat, and some black table liner. Dollar store creativity. All I needed was my drill and a hot glue gun to begin the assembly. It was surprisingly fun getting crafty, and I think the little pumpkin pail witches turned out pretty good—if I do say so myself.

The rest of Sunday was spent running all over town with Yvette, knocking out a bunch of errands before the weekend tapped out. One mission: find a superhero shirt for Teegan. Something for school. You would think that an easy task, but it took two stops.

That evening, we ate, and Teegan and I caught up on our show, Peacemaker.

All in all, it was a nice weekend that went by way too fast. Over in a blink, as usual.

My coworkers and I entered the week expecting it to be loud with our boss back from vacation. Little did we know, that wasn’t going to be the case. His mother-in-law took a turn for the worse, and he was in and out of the office all week. That meant another week of quiet vibes.

My workload was steady—if not a little frantic at times. My afternoons were especially swamped. Everything seemed to happen right after everyone else got back from lunch. That’s the only downside of taking lunch at 1 in the afternoon—when I get back at 2, I must rush to get things done. Friday afternoon I was so busy I utterly wiped myself out. I was in the office a total of maybe 30 min.

On that note, I got an email from the “Staff Senate Executive Board”, who I never voted for, saying I had missed too many meetings. It’s called having a job that’s feast or famine. Some of these jobs across campus all seem to have way more downtime than we do over in Facilities. Especially these days.

The email pissed me off, honestly. I didn’t even feel like dignifying it with a response.

Fuck them. I even like these people, and I like being on the senate, but they need to work on tone.

The first meeting I missed was during move-in week—I was busy putting out fires. A student moves into the dorm, plumbing’s not up to the parents’ bloated expectations, and suddenly I’m running for parts. Am I supposed to say, “Sorry, can’t help you right now—I have a Staff Senate meeting”? Fuck no.

The second missed meeting, I was the only one in the office. Should I have just locked the door and closed the office?  That wouldn’t raise any eyebrows at all. Ridiculous.

And apparently, I was supposed to notify the others in advance that I wouldn’t be attending. News to me.  This is my third term, and I’ve never had to do that before. But sure—cheers to this new board for being super by-the-book. I’m sure their newfound commitment to procedure will change everything on campus.

Maybe I’m jaded, but no one really listens to the Staff Senate anyway. It’s all for nothing. A glorified suggestion box that nobody ever opens. I feel like each year that I’ve been on it, it has become less and less about the staff and more and more about the image of the people serving. I fear it’s becoming a bullshit organization with people patting themselves on the back.

I had great expectations for making a difference and now it doesn’t even get me out of the office.

Maybe I should run for an “executive” position.

Anyways.. Sorry for the soap opera.  Rant over.  I was pissed at the email, Friday afternoon was hell and it’s been a week.

Happy fucking Friday!!

Horror Season 2025

Cast a Deadly Spell

In the ’80s and ’90s, HBO was the premium cable network. HBO was the bomb. Cast a Deadly Spell, an HBO original, epitomizes the term “forgotten gem” with its fantastic concept. This weird horror-comedy is a sweet tribute to both the horror and detective genres—a noir comedy horror filled to the brim with Lovecraft references. It holds an incredibly special place in my heart.

Released just a couple of months after my tenth birthday, I was definitely not the intended audience for such a film. But my parents—or more specifically, my father—had no problem letting me watch some good ol’ horror movies.  You might say that he had a pretty relaxed approach to what was “age appropriate.” He was even more excited about this one because the story is loosely based on the classic literature of H.P. Lovecraft. Eldritch horrors. Cosmic dread. The Necronomicon. Hell, the main protagonist even shares Lovecraft’s name. Of course this movie was right up my dad’s alley.

The cast is exceptional: the late Fred Ward, David Warner, Clancy Brown, and Julianne Moore. Ward, already a favorite of mine thanks to Tremors (1990), plays the lead. I recognized Warner from my favorite Star Trek movie, and I liked Brown for his role as the Kurgan in Highlander.

The movie is very much a hybrid of genres—equal parts horror, comedy, and film noir. Set in 1948 Los Angeles, magic and mystical creatures are part of everyday life. It follows private detective Lovecraft (Ward), who refuses to use magic, Naturally, he gets hired by a shady millionaire (Warner) to track down a rare book—yeah, that one. The Necronomicon. It’s missing, he needs it for a “special occasion,” and the clock is ticking.

Spoiler: that “special occasion” involves summoning the Old Gods in exchange for unlimited power. Because of course it does.  Isn’t that what all rare books are used for?

Watching the film today, it still holds up well. The special effects are all practical—thank God. It was released before CGI became a thing, and with its modest budget, CGI wouldn’t have been an option anyway. The monsters look great, the gore is kept minimal but effective.

There’s one scene I’ll never forget.  It terrified me as a kid: death by paper cuts. A spell is cast on a short-lived character who becomes engulfed in swirling sheets of paper, each slice drawing blood until he bleeds out. Death by a thousand paper cuts. It scared the hell out of me. As a ten-year-old boy who knew how bad a single paper cut could hurt, I could definitely relate to that man’s pain and fear.

That scene is still brutally beautiful to this day.

This movie remains entertaining as hell. I loved everything about it then, and I still do now.  It has everything: monsters, detectives, magic, noir one-liners.   It’s easily one of the best Lovecraftian films out there.  Sadly, mostly forgotten.

Jalapeño.

My chicken cheese enchiladas from last week were a hit so I made them again.

Pesto cheese ravioli with Italian sausage, mushrooms, spinach, sun dried tomatoes and peas.

National taco day!! Taco salad!

Hoisin pork chops with veggie chow mein.

Spaghetti squash with meatballs, salad and green beans.

Sesame chicken.

The weekend was fast and very laid back. After our short/long trip to Aggieland and back, I had zero desire to do anything. I woke up Saturday feeling like a brand new person—oh, what a little bit of insulin will do for the body Wo knew?. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve gone over 24 hours without any, and I don’t want to be in that predicament again anytime soon. I do not recommend it.

I always travel with extrat. But Thursday? Distractions. My mental checklist that was more like Swiss cheese. And then, surprise! Pump malfunction. Because of course it fucking would.

Later, I swung by my mom’s to pick up the damn dog. Let me tell you, I remember the first time I saw him with staples in his belly two years ago—I was horrified. Now? Meh. The shock has worn off. That’s probably not a good thing.

Of course, when I pick him up, he’s just like he was before he got sick—acting like nothing at all just happened to him. Death was a knocking and here he is bouncing around in circles. Short memories. I love this dog, but he’s reaching a point where this shit just can’t keep happening.

I put out all the Halloween decorations before October even hit, which really just amounts to some spooky pumpkins and ghosts. Yvette showed me a DIY Halloween decoration that I was hell-bent on making. Yeah, it’s cool and cheap, but what they don’t mention is that gathering all the supplies feels like going on a scavenger hunt across town. I went to four stores before I had any luck, and I still had to alter the plan and order some lighting online. So, I’ll have to assemble the decorations later when I finally have everything together.

Oh well. It was something to do.

Sunday started strong: chorizo and potato tacos. Heavenly. A+ breakfast. I patted myself on the back.

After that, I just lounged around the house for most of the day. Eventually, I ran some errands, and around six, we all headed over to Yvette’s parents’ house for a BBQ feast. BBQ out the wazoo! Ribs, deer sausage, brisket, and chicken. It was really nice of them.

We watched a little football, and suddenly it was already getting dark. The day was done. The weekend over. In a flash—gone.

The week actually started off… not terrible. Which, for a Monday, basically qualifies as a miracle.  It was slow.  I was going to try and have an office week again—maybe this time without it being derailed by someone throwing a wrench.  I hate the office, but I honestly can’t remember the last time someone didn’t take off or call in sick, leaving me to pick up the slack when needed. I was due a break.

At least the weather was mostly cloudy and cool. That alone was enough to lift my Monday mood.

I worked mostly on personal BS while pretending to be productive whenever someone came in.  Like I said—it was slow. It also didn’t hurt that the boss was away on vacation. The glory of silence.

Tuesday morning, I ingested my weekly dose of The Daily Show with my coffee—part of my sacred routine. There’s something oddly comforting about starting the day with a humorous recap of the fractured mess that is our country. Between the madness of the media and the absolute stupidity of our nation’s so-called Dear Leader, it’s nice to laugh instead of cry.

I’ve been a fan of Jon Stewart for over 20 years now, and I still find his take on politics and the media refreshingly honest. The man has heart.

Work, on the other hand? Dull as hell. I literally had nothing left to do. I was caught up, twiddling my thumbs, just waiting for something—anything—to turn into a project. Personal tasks were already handled the day before, so I couldn’t even fake being productive.

I guess this is just how it goes every year when fall rolls in—we hit a brick wall, productivity screeches to a halt, and yet I’m surprised by it every single time.

Hump day arrives, and I immediately hear chatter about a bomb threat called in to the university. Apparently, there would be a heightened police presence on campus because of it. Fantastic. I guess with all the recent media attention that we’ve garnered, some whack job decided to commit a federal crime.

I’m sure the threat had no merit, but these things still have to be taken seriously.  Protocol, and what not. Honestly, I don’t know what the broader campus response was—but my office saw no interruption to the day.

I had a date with the vampires on Thursday, and the vampires were thirsty. I had to wait an unusually long time to get my lab work done. The location I go to is usually quick, but I think others have caught on—now it’s starting to get busy. Anyway, they drew the blood, and I watched the vials fill up like a weirdo. Big highlight of an otherwise dull day. Office weeks…

Friday finally arrived and turned out to be the longest workday of the week. I ended up reading a leaked transcript from one of the big departments’ meetings on campus. It was about our current BS politics. What a flaming shit show that was. My lord. I almost feel bad for the new Dean who inherited that mess. Audio would have been great. Good lord.

After that, it was my biannual doctor’s visit—my first since my summer scare. We had a good appointment. My diabetes is in better control than it’s been in over 10 years. I’m happy with that and I’ll probably celebrate by eating something that I shouldn’t.

My doctor asked how things were going on campus, and all I could do was laugh. The laught said “you have no idea”. He has a friend on the faculty, so he’s heard plenty whispers already. We talked about how targeted these attacks really are. I wonder how many times I’ll be asked how “life is on campus”?

We both agreed that the witch hunt probably isn’t close to being over.

We live in scary times. When the powers of government start regulating what can and can’t be taught at universities… When you give a bully a little to get them off your back, they only come back asking for more later. That’s what it feels like right now, and not just on campus—across the country. At what point do you stop giving in and start standing up.

I’m an independent voter with a low tolerance for BS on either side. I can see through the shit. Trump and his administration? Absolute disaster. Depraved uncaring assholes. Those on the right who think they’re part of his “team “ are in for a rude awakening. If you ever awake. Please awake.

These people don’t play for anyone but themselves. They are a pitiful reflection of humanity. A distortion, void of kindness. A disgrace. The worst.

But they have us beat. The genius of this whole trick is that while we’re all busy pointing fingers—arguing over pronouns or whatever—they’re running the long con. Division is the tool. People want someone to blame. Meanwhile, the real power grab is happening right out in the open.

Power is being gobbled up in ways we’ve never seen before. Checks and balances? Getting shaky. Norms? Fucking tossed aside. But my eyes are open. I just wish more people would open theirs—ideally before it’s too late.

Happy fucking Friday!

Horror Season 2025

The New Halloween Trilogy

I decided to give all three movies in the new Halloween trilogy a go. Why? Honestly, I don’t know. Curiosity? Boredom?

The first is a direct follow-up to the original 1978 film. I don’t feel like I need to educate anyone on that one—everyone should know who Michael Myers is, right? That foreboding, slow-walking, heavy-breathing icon of evil with the most haunting William Shatner mask of all fucking time.

A little background, in case you’re curious, on why a Star Trek Captain Kirk mask became the stuff of nightmares: I hate to disappoint, but there was nothing deep or symbolic behind the choice. Nothing creepy. The production team bought a Shatner mask for $2 and painted it white. That was it. No metaphor, no message—just a cheap solution that accidentally became iconic.

Back to the movie. I found it entertaining to see where Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) ended up after the traumatic events of the first film. Naturally, she has PTSD. Forty years later, she’s still living with the terror of that night. That trauma has turned into hatred—for her brother, Michael. She’s spent decades hoping he’d escape prison and come back so she can kill him once and for all.

She now has a family—a daughter and a granddaughter—but of course, all this Michael Myers obsession has put a major strain on those relationships. They think she’s a little batshit crazy. Who can blame them? She has been preparing her whole life for Michaels unlikely return. That would seem a little coocoo?

Anyway, Myers eventually escapes during a prison transfer (thanks in part to a shady doctor who views him more like a lab experiment than a person) and returns to the sleepy town of Haddonfield. On Halloween night, of course. People start dying in classic slasher fashion.

The final showdown is what you’d expect, with Myers presumably dead. But we know better—there are still two more films to go. Besides, if you have any remote knowledge of this franchise you must know that the sonofabitch just refuses to die. The man has survived being shot, stabbed, burned, and electrocuted.

The original Halloween basically launched the slasher subgenre of horror, which I respect, but I’ve never really cared for. The idea of an unstoppable murder machine always felt like silly shit to me. Why can’t the villain just die? It’s dumb.

I genuinely enjoyed Halloween (2018). I was actually surprised by how much I liked it. Dare I say I liked it more than the original? I think I just might have.

But I liked this follow-up because the characters felt more developed—probably because we already know what trauma shaped them over the past 40 years. The plot was simple and predictable, sure, but that didn’t bother me. I wasn’t expecting gold, and I didn’t get gold—I just got a stupid slasher movie that was actually well-made. That’s all I needed.

So, how about the next two installments?

Halloween Kills.  The film basically starts as a flashback to Halloween 1978 — the arrest of Michael Myers. A big “should’ve, could’ve, but didn’t” moment. Cool, I guess… but did we need it? Not really.

Where Halloween Kills really gets going is when it picks up the exact same night the last movie ended. Because obviously, Michael Myers wasn’t dead. Fucking duh.  The man isn’t to be stopped by a house fire.

The real star of the show is the kill count. The absolutely ridiculous kill count. There had to be at least 30 bodies by the end of the movie.  It’s not so much a slasher film as it is a murder montage. It was entertaining, sure — but also kind of stupid.

In this chapter, Myers is less man and more killing machine.  He’s not even pretending to be a regular guy anymore.  The film leans hard into a supernatural element, turning him into something beyond human. A mystical monster that grows stronger with each kill.

I mean, the guy is literally being hunted by  a whole angry crowd with baseball bats and zero survival instincts.  A full-on lynch mob. They think they’ve killed him — only for him to rise up and slaughter them all. You definitely need to suspend disbelief to get through this one.

One of the biggest bummers?   Laurie spends most of the film sidelined in a hospital bed, monologuing about evil. Jamie Lee Curtis’s talent feels totally wasted here.  A true crime. She deserved more.

That all might sound like heavy criticism, and yet… despite all of this? I kind of loved it. It’s dumb. Aggressively dumb. But it knows it’s dumb and leans into it — and somehow, that works. The death scenes are so over-the-top they’re practically comedic. At a certain point, I stopped being horrified and just started laughing.  I mean, how could you not laugh at the absurdity?

A lot of people probably expected more of the same — and this film definitely didn’t give them that.  It was just a kill spree and it was good fun.  Just don’t expect logic — or subtlety — and you’ll have a blast.

Now let’s see how they wrap the story up

Halloween Ends. What a creative name.

What to say about the final installment of the trilogy?

Well, for one, Halloween Ends certainly takes a very different direction from where Kills left us. I expected another direct follow-up, but instead, this chapter jumps ahead four years. Michael Myers has vanished, and the people of Haddonfield are trying to move on. Laurie is writing a memoir and living with her granddaughter. And… well, that’s the setup.  Life movies one.  Right?

We spend a lot of time with a young man named Cory. He’s been ostracized after being cleared of a manslaughter charge and becomes a victim of the town’s judgment and bullying. Eventually, he encounters Myers, succumbs to that darkness and goes on his own little killing spree. At least… I think that’s what’s happening? It’s kind of a mess.

In Kills, we learned that Myers might not be entirely human.  Bulletproof, fireproof, pitchfork-proof. But now? Now we’re told he can transfer his evil to someone else?  Like some kind of fucking virus? What is that about? When he finally reemerges from the sewers in which he has been hiding, he no longer seems like the unstoppable force he was in the previous film. Has old age caught up with him? It’s never really explained, and the film is riddled with similar narrative holes.

After another final confrontation, Michael’s seemingly dead body is tossed into a grinder and pulverized. That’s it—goodbye, Michael. The end.

The film might have worked if it hadn’t been billed as the conclusion to a trilogy. After the chaotic ending of Kills, it feels like the writers weren’t sure where to go. You don’t end the Laurie-Michael saga by shifting the focus to some random kid. It just doesn’t make sense. As a standalone? Sure, I can see the value in the story. But as the final piece of a trilogy? A weird direction.

Honestly, this could have worked better as a standalone film. The story is less about Myers himself and more about how evil is infectious. Evil doesn’t die—it evolves. It spreads. It takes root in people. It lingers in communities, festering in fear, blame, and mob mentality. And that’s a cool idea! But maybe not the best way to wrap up the Laurie vs. Michael storyline we’ve been building for two movies (or 40 years, depending on how deep you’re into Halloween lore).

That said, I still had fun with all three films, even if the conclusion felt muddled. Watching something I normally wouldn’t have picked up turned out to be a worthwhile experience. I love Jamie Lee Curtis—though I think she was sidelined a bit too much throughout these films. But hey, isn’t it supposed to be Michael’s story? Or was it always just about evil?

In any case, it was a fun ride. I get why some fans were frustrated and disappointed. If you want Halloween (1978), just watch Halloween (1978). I went in with an open mind and left mostly satisfied. Nothing groundbreaking, just good entertainment. Refreshing, in a weird, familiar way.

Jalapeño

Beef with broccoli stir fry.

Chicken cheese enchiladas.

Chicken Chipotle bowl.

Steak salad.

My very own orange chicken stir fry. It had been a while.

Carne al pastor tacos.

Saturday, I woke up to find I was all out of coffee—a terrible situation. I decided to worry about my caffeine fix later; first, I needed a little breakfast. Teegan was still asleep, and the girls had run off to a sale, so I made myself a fried egg and leftover Spanish rice. It was a simple meal, quickly thrown together, but it hit the spot.

I left the house for Sam’s to get gas and bottled water. Damn gas prices went up 20 cents overnight. Bullshit. After that, I stopped by the campus for some coffee. I figured the Starbucks would be open. I was wrong. Damnit.

Lilyfest 2025.
My lord, things have changed since Landon, the founder, passed away. Last year it came as a surprise, but this year, I kind of knew what to expect—bounce houses, a DJ, and snow cones. Trying to make the event relevant to the younger crowds.

It used to be such an elegant affair. People came from out of the country to see the lilies. They even had fireworks in the evenings. Not anymore.

I still had fun people-watching and admiring the beauty of nature. They’d done a good job cleaning up the tanks compared to my visit the week before. The lilies had been so overcrowded and were desperately in need of thinning out. I was happy to see they’d made it much more presentable.

After the fest, I went to an actual Starbucks. I needed my damn coffee—and three hours later, I finally got it. I found a bench by the river, watched the wildlife, and enjoyed my damn coffee.

It was family weekend on campus, so the day’s tailgating was family-filled. We got there earlier than usual, and already there were a lot of people. So much damn food. I ate and ate like there were no repercussions. Unfortunately, there always are.

The girls left about an hour before I did because of the heat. I understood—Yvette really looked like she was feeling it. I stuck it out and had my fair share of beer and food. I was going to make that membership fee worth it, by God.

It was fun just roaming around. I ran into some friends and a couple of retired university folks. I like the sense of unity I get at these events. Everyone finally together, despite differences. You can feel it in the air. I just wish it was always like that.

Once back at the house, it was time for dinner. How could I possibly even be thinking about food. National Pepperoni Pizza Day! I had to use that as an excuse to make my own pizza. Yep. And wings on the grill. Why the fuck not?

Teegan and I caught up on our show, Peacemaker. We both laughed our asses off. I love having shows with him. It’s really something I never knew I needed or wanted. I’ll miss those moments when he moves off to college. Thinking about it makes me kind of sad.

Sunday, I woke up super late with a tummy ache. All that tailgating food. The repercussions. And yeah, I ate more pizza before bed. Idiot move.

On a wild hair, I decided to go see The Long Walk since I’d just finished the novel. I really wanted to see how they’d pull it off. I guess they managed fairly well, but honestly, I found it underwhelming. I was kind of just sitting there waiting for it to end. Maybe it was because I’d just finished the book? Honestly, I kind of felt the same way while reading it: just end already.

So, the week began—miserable. On Tuesday, my tree limb saga continued. My neighbors clearly didn’t like that my insurance didn’t find me legally liable for any damages. It was an “act of God,” they said. But the neighbors wanted money. They were demanding and pushy. I might have compromised if the demands hadn’t been so ridiculous—especially after being told I wasn’t accountable for the vehicle.

I had no intention of burning a bridge, but let’s be honest: they were never really my friends. Until this incident, I hadn’t even had a proper conversation with them in over a year, at the very least. I think the last time I spoke with them was when my yard was getting a little unruly. I couldn’t maintain it because of my back injury. They acted like they stopped by out of concern, but I always got the feeling they were just hinting that I should take better care of my yard.

If I were a real prick, I’d take this opportunity to point out that their new circle drive funnels all the stormwater from the street directly into my yard—flooding it and filling it with debris. I’ve had to clean up a mess every damn time we get heavy rain, and I haven’t once complained.

And now here they are, wanting me to pay their deductible and cover any possible premium increase if they file a claim. Again, this is after my insurance determined I’m not legally liable for the damage. For fuck’s sake—I even paid to have the tree removed. I didn’t have to do that!

I could understand if it were a vehicle they actually used, but it’s a ranch truck that’s 20 years old and hasn’t left the driveway in months. The damage is minimal—a single dent to the hood. Nothing to weep over.

I’ve been very cordial up until the demands started. I called my insurance again to inform them of the situation. They told me that from now on, my neighbors need to direct any future claims to them—not to me—because I’m legally in the clear.

People can be so damn petty.

On top of all this, I had a sick dog. Of course, it was Owen. The dumbass no doubt ate something he shouldn’t have. This happened right after he’d just seen the veterinarian last Friday. I had to clean up vomit seven times, and the poor bastard wasn’t eating.

Wednesday was so much kinder to me.

I woke up around 4:30 to some loud fucking thunder. It was shaking the house. The thunder was so intense that everyone but me jumped out of bed to inspect. It had to have been extremely close, because we heard what can best be described as a pop or snap right after the initial crack. I’d heard about this before on The Weather Channel. I was afraid the power might be out, but we got lucky.

What followed was rain. Beautiful rain. Before I had even left the house, over an inch had fallen—and it didn’t look like it was letting up anytime soon. I sure love a good rainy day. Throw in the fact that it was considerably cooler, and almost everyone seemed to be in a better mood.

For lunch, Yvette brought to my attention that Wienerschnitzel, a fabulous hot dog chain, had four chili dogs for only four dollars. Christ, you can’t beat that! It’s a bit of a heavy lunch for me, but I honestly had no idea what I’d scrounge up at the house—so I was in heaven. Chili dog heaven.

Thursday started rough. I woke up already frustrated—poor Owen still wouldn’t eat or drink. I can’t even put into words how frustrated I was. I had a short day at work ahead of me and a long drive to Texas A&M, and here my damn dog was sick again. I couldn’t leave him with Lola and the baby—not even for a day. So I called the vet and made an appointment.

I hate having sick pets. It’s always Owen. The fool just can’t help eating what he shouldn’t. And then we’re right back in the vet’s office. He had to have surgery and they removed a plastic bag stuck between his stomach and intestines. Poor expensive fool.

As if that wasn’t enough, work brought its own kind of headache. Another morning meeting—this one supposedly about active shooter training. But that turned out to be just the bait to get us all in the room.

What it was really about? A new state law. One that prohibits any discussion of sex or gender that doesn’t fall strictly within “man and woman,” “he and she.” Everything else is off-limits. No more mention of pronouns beyond the binary. No more talking about transgender, bisexual, or nonbinary identities. According to the presentation, violating this law could result in immediate termination.

I saw it coming.

On Tuesday, my brother had sent me an article from a news outlet in Austin. Someone on campus had leaked details: the university is trying to get ahead of enforcement efforts from both the state and federal levels. According to the article, “if they make any statement on campus implying that there are more than two sexes or genders (male or female), they will be fired.”

We’re state employees, so we have to comply.

What a bummer.

It’s disheartening to see freedoms chipped away like this. I feel for the people who will be directly affected. I know people who are going to suffer under these changes, and it breaks my heart. I genuinely don’t understand why people can’t just let others be—how is anyone else’s identity harming you? You might not understand or like it, but it is not really hurting you?

Why can’t we all just live and let live? Why can’t we all just be happy?

After all that bullshit, I was just happy to be hitting the road to Aggieland. That five-hour drive? Total therapy. Teegan, Yvette, and I loaded up and made the most of it the highway. We made decent time, even with an accidental detour through Waco.

Once we got to College Station and settled in at Yvette’s childhood friend’s place, she took us out to dinner—same spot my boss had recommended, actually. I had two much-needed beers and a damn tasty burger. I was in a happy place.

Sleep came easy.

We thought the tour started at 9, but it was actually at 10—so we woke up with a little more breathing room. I drove out for coffee. Honestly, my morning would’ve been fucked without it.

The first part of the tour was the usual—showing off landmarks. The fun part. I wasn’t as impressed with A&M as I was with Texas and Baylor, but it was still pretty impressive. Honestly, just seeing how these larger universities compare has been a real highlight. Each tour has come with its own weather experience, and this time, it was the heat. Unlike the other campuses, though, they didn’t offer bottled water, which is definitely a negative in my book. Oh, and I wasn’t all that impressed with the art, either.

The Aggie Corps was something else, though. I’d always heard how cultish they were, and my lord… I can’t imagine myself ever being part of that group. I kind of wanted to laugh a little. I mean, the boots with spurs?! The shoes with bottle caps attached to them so they’d make noise. The uniforms. It was all just a bit much.

Also, the traditions were just goofy. HOWDY!!! That’s definitely not in my vocabulary. The people were pumped, but it all felt a little like bullshit to me. Still, bless them if it’s genuine.

I don’t want Teegan to go to A&M but if it’s is the place he decides to go, I support 100%.

All in all, the trip was a great time, and I was really glad to add another college campus tour to the books with Teegan and Yvette. I did have a technical issue with my insulin pump, which kept me from having as much fun as I would’ve liked. I went 24 hours without insulin—headache and irritation aside, I was still happy. Happy Friday!!!

Horror Season 2025

Event Horizon.

What a damn frightening film.

I still recall the very first time I watched it and how disturbed I was after the credits rolled. It was the summer of 1998. I was in Midland with my brother, Samuel. His dad had recently moved and was living in a temporary apartment while looking for a house.

We picked up some pizza and stopped by a Blockbuster on the way home. Oh, the good ole days—I miss video stores. I liked to just walk around and let my eyes do the picking. I always gravitated toward the horror section because of the gnarly cover art. Unexpectedly, I happened upon a movie that featured Sam Neill on the cover, so we grabbed it. We’d been Sam Neill fans ever since watching Jurassic Park as small boys.
(Aside: I was also a boy the first time I watched Event Horizon, only seventeen.)

What we got that night was far more than we were expecting.

The wonderful thing about movies back then was that you often didn’t know what you were going to get. You didn’t have the internet to look up trailers or plot synopses. Unless you caught a trailer on TV or in a theater, all you had to go by was what was written on the back of the VHS or DVD case. Usually, it was extraordinarily little plot and almost no representation of the visuals.

Event Horizon made it clear from the get-go that it was not just a science fiction movie—it was very much a horror movie. Nearly 30 years since its release, it remains one of the most disturbing visual films I’ve ever seen. The grotesque imagery was burned into our heads that night. What’s so chilling is how briefly it’s shown. The mind didn’t have time to fully comprehend what it had seen, but the glimpse was enough to leave behind pure nightmare fuel.

The story of faster-than-light travel has been done many times before. What Event Horizon explores, that others have not, is the idea of creating a wormhole—folding space-time, teleportation through black holes. But what is the dimension you travel through to get from one point in space to another? What could be brought back into our world? What if the dimension you passed through was utter chaos? What if it was hell? That’s where things get interesting.

That is exactly what Event Horizon explores—in a truly terrifying fashion.

I love this movie. It has great acting, an exceptional story, haunting atmosphere, eerie music, and visuals that still hold up all these years later. I’ve become somewhat desensitized to horror over the years, but this one left a scar on my developing mind.

A movie that snuck up on two lifelong friends, enjoying some pizza on a Friday night, in a town they barely knew, with a future ahead of them still waiting to unfold.

Jalapeño

Pizza and wings!!

Loaded baked potato. BBQ pulled pork, corn and all the fixings.

Imitation crab pasta.

Jambalaya.

Buffalo chicken pasta.

Aggieland burger!!

Tired from the road to go food. Sesame ginger chickennn

Something about work has just been exhausting lately, so I didn’t feel the least bit bad about sleeping in again and not stepping outside until after 2 in the afternoon. I could have mowed the grass, but I figured it could wait until Sunday. With Alaya staying at her father’s, there wasn’t a little baby around needing our attention or entertainment.

Eventually, I made a little brunch: chorizo potato hash with a fried egg. Lola had really been craving my version of this meal, so I obliged. The only thing I changed was the type of potato I used—but honestly, I’m probably the only one who even noticed.

Saturday afternoon was spent bouncing around town.

I went to Hobby Lobby for a bit with Yvette and Lola. I saw a lot I wanted, but I showed extreme restraint and walked away empty-handed. I really have no need for more pumpkins. They make it so difficult, though, with that 40% off special on everything. Damn them for trying to make a sale!

My mother and her friends were out enjoying a little reunion, so my next mission was to check on her doggies. I’m so happy for my mom and her friends—I hope that when I’m their age, I can still go out and have fun like that. It’s rather heartwarming.

I’ve been trying to give them space to fully enjoy themselves and reflect on the past. I hate to intrude, but part of me wishes I could be around to get to know them better and hear some old stories. Honestly, they’ve been so busy catching up, I probably wouldn’t have had a moment to visit anyway—and that’s a good thing. My mom originally tried to get out of doing the whole reunion weekend, but she was having so much fun that she just kept going along with the events.

Eventually, I found myself at the lily park—it’s where I always end up. It looked like they were finally starting to tame the ponds. I’d thought they looked way too overgrown on my last few visits. Ever since Ken Landon—the longtime caretaker and heart of the pond—passed away, the place has really needed some love and attention. Lilyfest is just a week away, so I guess they’re trying to get on top of it.

On Sunday, I woke up and made breakfast: some pan-seared potatoes, grilled sausage and bacon, and eggs cooked to everyone’s liking. I turned it all into little breakfast tacos.

I had a few tasks ahead of me for the day, the first being the fucking yard. I really didn’t want to tackle it. I made some coffee and tried to pump myself up for the challenge. Thank the Lord it wasn’t too hot—small blessings. I mowed, I hedged, I cleaned up. I mixed up a very strong weed poison and went after the god-awful clover. This was my third attempt at annihilation. The resilient bastard just didn’t want to die. Fuck them.

Later, I went out to my mother’s and visited with her about her fun-filled weekend. She and her friends had a great time catching up and attending events together. It was honestly inspirational to hear her talk about it. I really hope I’m still capable of things like that when I reach my 70s.

And with that, the weekend was over. I’m not even sure how the rest of Sunday blew past me. I had a few horror movies playing in the background and made a little dinner for myself, but I didn’t do much else.

The week started off well. I was convinced that I had Staff Senate, but I was actually a week ahead of schedule. Monday was Owen’s 7th birthday, and he was a little pampered by me—as much as I can pamper that dog, at least. He did get a raw egg for his birthday dinner. When eggs weren’t so expensive, I used to give my dogs a raw egg every Sunday. Now, like many things, they’re reserved for special occasions.

The rest of the week in a few words:
Tuesday – we had a dinner guest. Dinner for eight.
Wednesday – morning meeting. Be complacent.
Thursday – experimental flu shot. Money in my pocket.
Friday – both dogs had a vet appointment. Difficulty.

Let me back up to Wednesday.

We had to attend a special on-campus meeting about the assassination of Charlie Kirk. The purpose of the meeting was to remind everyone that what they say or do in a public forum reflects on the state entity that which they work for—and that it can cost them their jobs, even if it falls under your First Amendment right to freedom of speech.

I assumed that was common knowledge, but apparently it needed reiterating. You can’t go around being an asshole off work. Say or do whatever you want. Employers have and an image to uphold. Many people did not realize this. In the state of Texas a lot of jobs have been lost in the last week over this insane bullshit—because it doesn’t align with the current “government” ideology. Often easier to let someone go than have an image tarnished.

Now, if you put yourself out there, you might have to face the consequences. That’s just how it is. Be it losing friends, being let go from your job, or—God forbid—having violence committed against you. It’s a risky choice.  Many people will likely disagree with you..  One should expect that.

But that’s the people, not the government, making those choices.  When the Governor of the state of Texas is calling for students to be expelled and employee’s fired. When the President of the USA is pressuring media silence on those that he disagrees with… What the hell has happened to this country? 

Freedom of speech.

It feels like it’s dying a slow death.

I don’t want anyone I disagree with to ever be silenced. Opposition should always have a voice. That’s what keeps us from living in echo chambers—hearing only the voices and opinions we already agree with. It’s healthy to take a dose of disagreement. Even better if some kind of bridged understanding can be built between two opposing forces.

That is free speech.  That is the First. Fucking. Amendment.

Free speech has always been about one thing: preventing the goddamn government from controlling the conversation. Public backlash, boycotts, online mobs—those can be harsh and unfair, but they aren’t violations of the First Amendment.

The real threat comes when the state itself uses its muscle to muzzle.

And make no mistake—that is what we’re seeing.

If we don’t call it out, if we don’t defend the right to speak even when we hate the words, then we’re not just losing the argument. We’re losing the very fucking freedom that allows us to argue in the first place.

In other words, we’re fucked.

Now you all go and have yourselves a nice fucking Friday. Cheers!

Horror Season 2025

IT (2017–2019).

I grew up terrified of the 1990 TV mini-series, mainly because of Tim Curry’s take on Pennywise the Clown—it was pure nightmare fuel. As a child, that film was incredibly effective. Imagine a monster that can manifest all your worst fears in a way that could harm you? Terrifying. The source material was always strong, and the story was more than ready for a modern update.

Then along came Andy Muschietti, who I think did a superb job. I know a lot of people groaned at the very idea of a remake. These were people with an intense sense of nostalgia for the original—and nostalgia is often blinding. I was guilty of it too. Even though I knew the original was flawed, I was apprehensive about a remake, mainly because—who in the world could possibly top Tim Curry?

Rewatching IT (1990) now, it’s clearly not nearly as scary as it felt when I was a kid—and the second half of the film is honestly boring. It’s dated, and aside from Curry, the acting is terrible. Muschietti had one hell of a job ahead of him.

In the original adaptation, so much material was left on the cutting room floor. For a made-for-TV movie, they did well with what they had at their disposal, but I had read the (very, very) long novel twice, so I knew what was missing. I also knew that not everything in the book could—or should—be adapted to the screen. Some of it would be nearly impossible to portray, and other sections were just too weird or distracting. King needed his own cutting board. With this knowledge, I knew Muschietti had to strike a delicate balance.

The biggest challenge was finding the right actor to play Pennywise. Tim Curry’s unnerving version was iconic, and the last thing anyone wanted was a cheap imitation. What the film needed was a completely fresh take.

Enter Bill Skarsgård.

Much like how I initially doubted Heath Ledger as the Joker, I wasn’t convinced at first by Skarsgård’s casting. But when the first trailer dropped, I knew he was the right choice. Curry played the part more sadistic—like he got off on scaring the crap out of the kids. Skarsgård played Pennywise more feral and twitchy, like a drug addict needing his fix. The fear he took from the kids was his drug—like meth. He needed to feed on it to survive.

The novel is split between the perspectives of the children and their adult counterparts. To make the first film convincing, a strong cast of child actors was absolutely essential. Somehow, Muschietti pulled it off. Not a single child actor was a weak link—each had strong screen presence. Since the first film (Chapter One) is the part most fans adore, casting those kids well was a major win. Even without the scares Pennywise manifested, I would have enjoyed a movie based solely on the chemistry between the young actors. The very R-rated dialogue made them feel so much more believable.

The next challenge was making Chapter Two as engaging as Chapter One. Almost everyone agrees that the child-focused sections of the book are the best parts. It was the best part of the 1990 version too. Muschietti cleverly saved enough of the kids’ material for the second film, which gave us flashbacks that added depth. He also cast some top-tier actors as the adult versions: Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Bill Hader—excellent choices. A major reason the second half of the 1990 film failed was that the acting wasn’t believable or even engaging.

All in all, the films pull it off. Fans of the original can appreciate what Muschietti did with the source material. The films include scenes that had never translated to screen before, which keeps things fresh, while also updating fan-favorite moments with care. It worked. While some of the CGI can be a little distracting at times, it wasn’t overused or overbearing. I was able to overlook it in favor of enjoying a well-made adaptation.

Watching both films back-to-back over the weekend was no small undertaking—it was about a five-hour journey. I was entertained. I still enjoy the parts of the films with the children the most, but unlike the 1990 version, Muschietti was able to make the adults’ story engaging too. I do believe he accomplished his goals and exceeded many expectations.

As a horror fan, I was happy—finally happy—with a film translation of a book that frightened me more than almost any other.

Jalapeño.

Grilled tuna tacos with mango salsa.

Red chicken enchilada bowl topped with an over easy egg.

Grilled hoisin chicken thigh with leftover rice and broccoli.

Shrimp po boy.

Chicken fajita quesadilla.

Pollo Chile Verde taco bowl.

The good steak.

This blog is all over the place, like me. Chasing squirrels.

Waking up Saturday, it felt like waking up to a new season.  The weather was perfect—overcast with cool temperatures. I decided it was finally the day to put up all the fall decorations, once and for all. Yvette and Alaya went over to my in-laws’ for some menudo, so there really wasn’t a better time to get them out. Alaya would have been very interested in what I was doing—bless her—but that would’ve made things a bit more complicated.

I decked the house out in pumpkins. The gods must have inspired me to feel autumnal, because I was even able to live-stream the Texas Tech football game on HBO Max. Nothing sets the mood for fall quite like pumpkins, cool cloudy weather, and college football. I made a cup of coffee, curled up in my chair, and proceeded to bask in the glory of pumpkin season.

The first Ram Jam of the 2025 fall semester.  We had a tradition to uphold, and attending was non-negotiable. This year, though, things were a little different. The event was under new oversight—Special Events had taken over for Alumni after the campus absorbed the Alumni Association. As an experienced attendee, I definitely noticed the changes. It was not as smooth an operation—but that’s not surprising. Nothing the campus touches ever runs smoothly.

One of the most noticeable changes was how alcohol was managed at the Alumni Center. If you had a drink outside, you could not bring it into the building. If you wanted one while inside, you could order it there, but then you could not take it back outside. It made zero sense. Honestly, I think it only encouraged me to drink more—because if we were going outside, like hell I was leaving an unfinished drink behind.

The turnout was great, and the weather was just about as perfect as it could get. And the food… I love the returning vendors. One of them always has the best damn ribs. Every year, that is one of the highlights. I think I must have had four by the time we left. Let me just say—I ate very well.

We also walked away with a bunch of free shirts. Had I known years ago how many freebies they give out at Ram Jam, I would have never bought a university t-shirt. That Saturday alone, I walked away with three new shirts—and this was just the first Ram Jam of the year.

Sunday was another lazy day.  We slept in. It was nice. I got roasted by the family for being a bottomless pit—I guess I ate about half the leftover pizza. I knew I had some, but I did not realize how much. Oops. Apparently Teegan wanted leftovers for lunch. To make up for it, I found some ground beef and made two burgers.

Later, I curled up in my chair and put on the movie Hostiles. It is a Western that came out not that long ago—well, actually, almost 10 years ago. For fuck’s sake, I am getting old. The years are flying by. 2017 does not feel that long ago, but it sure as shit is a long time ago.

When it first came out, I remember liking it, but I do not think I was really in the mood at the time. It was released the same month my father passed away, and I remember thinking how much I would have liked watching it with him. I appreciate the film much more today.

Anyway, I digress. Such an amazing cast. I love Christian Bale as Captain Blocker and Wes Studi as Yellow Hawk. Two great actors with incredible presence. Studi has been a force ever since I first saw him in The Last of the Mohicans over thirty years ago. He has portrayed many iconic Native American roles since then.

Beautifully directed by Scott Cooper, Hostiles is set in 1892 during the American-Indian Wars. It explores the oppression of Native Americans and the brutality inflicted on both sides. The white settlers were absolutely the worst in their treatment of the Native people. There can be no forgiveness for the crimes committed against them.

The film does not shy away from showing how awful humans can be to one another. Children die. Women are raped. It is the worst of humanity in a nutshell. A gut-punch of reality. But it is also a story about the possibility of transformation—about how shared experience and understanding can change people.

Blocker and Yellow Hawk have both committed atrocities against each other’s people in the name of what they believed. Sworn enemies, now forced to work together for a common cause. It’s a journey toward redemption and mutual understanding. At the end of the day, we are all fundamentally the same—despite the different doctrines we live by. This is relative right now in this country.

Monday was a real pisser. It was my first week back on office duty since mid-July, and I was restless. I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before—Yvette and I had stayed up watching a movie way past our bedtime, which made for a groggy day for both of us. I powered through with as much convention as I could muster. Office weeks make me feel like a bird with clipped wings.

After work, I took Teegan’s car to have the tires checked. Yvette noticed that the rear passenger tire looked a little low. The guys at Discount Tire found a screw while checking the gauge. Typical. Lucky for us, it was fixable. Nine out of ten times, the damage is in the sidewall, and you’re screwed. At least something was in my favor on this dreadful Monday. I know—how dramatic.

The family plumber arrived Tuesday during my lunch break. We had a leaking bathtub faucet that needed attention. Luckily, it was a relatively easy fix—though still expensive for the plumber’s time. He’s been fixing our family’s plumbing for 40 years, starting with my parents. It’s funny—I’ve known him for such a long time. I wasn’t even in elementary school when my parents first had him over, and now I’m the one calling him for my own plumbing needs, all these years later.

The man is now 75 years old and has no plans to retire if he can help it.

Oh, the joys of mounting expenses. I’m really getting sick of all these financial obligations. There’s my medical bills, the damn tree limb situation, and now the plumbing. I’m struggling to keep my head above water with these added expenses that just keep sneaking into my life. I swear, as soon as you get one thing taken care of and checked off your list, another one shows up to take its place. Everything is already too damn expensive, and these added costs make the struggle a wicked bitch to overcome.

A little seriousness now.

I try not to get overtly political in these blogs. Who wants that? Politics is shoved in our faces from every direction. But the events of this week have left me unable to look away. It’s been on my mind: the targeted and fatal shooting of Charlie Kirk on Wednesday afternoon.

I had not even heard the name of this man before, and yet the country is suddenly in an uproar over his tragic death. Killing someone over a disagreement is unacceptable. It will never be acceptable. Civil discourse is always an option. A disagreement—especially over politics—should never result in violence.

This wasn’t orchestrated—at least, not as far as we know. It wasn’t “the right vs. the left.” It wasn’t an attack by a collective group sharing an ideology. It was one man. One incredibly unwell and intensely radicalized individual. So let’s stop pretending this is a party issue. I know plenty of Republicans who would never dream of doing this. I know plenty of Democrats who would never dream of doing this. To blame an entire side is lazy, divisive, and flat-out wrong. Let’s not fall into the trap of listening to our so-called “Dear Leader”, who seems hell-bent on sowing division at every opportunity.

Talk about division, Trump ordered flags to fly at half-mast in response to Charlie Kirk’s murder. Depending on one’s political views, Kirk was either seen as a great man or a deeply controversial piece of shit. Or like me, a total unknown. But here’s my problem: flags are meant to be lowered to half-mast when the entire nation is in mourning—typically for government officials, national tragedies, or foreign dignitaries. In this case, neither condition applies. Was it horrific? Yes. But gun violence happens every single day in this country. If we’re not doing anything to stop it, then by that logic, the flag should always be at half-mast—not just when a friend of the our president is killed. If it’s someone that disagrees with the Trump, he sure doesn’t fly flags half-mast when they are targeted for murder. The way the government responded to the event highlighted its bias.

What we as a country need to do, as a favor to one another, is pull our heads out of our asses and come together in moments of tragedy. That’s how it should be. Instead, everyone began spewing vitriol at each other. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given the hatred that pours out of our president’s mouth whenever he opens it. He was already blaming the “radical left” for Charlie Kirk’s death before the facts were even known. There wasn’t even a suspect in custody and Trump was already fueling ignorance with more hate.

“Lead by example”? What a joke. Trump is the embodiment of what we shouldn’t want in a leader. It’s hard to believe I once thought he could possibly help the country. I was wrong.

To say the least, I was disappointed by many people’s reactions, otherwise I wouldn’t have written this portion of my blog.

Doing my own research into Charlie Kirk, I found him to be a polarizing figure. But that doesn’t change the fact that what happened to him was horrible. Just fucking horrible.  Charlie Kirk didn’t deserve this. His family didn’t deserve this. Now, they are the ones who must suffer because of senseless violence. I sincerely wish the fighting would end and that we could all come together for the common good. 

The reactions since have been equally heartbreaking—from both sides of the political spectrum.

People on the left celebrating his death? You’re almost as awful as the man who pulled the trigger. People on the right calling for war against “the libs,” as if one shooter represents millions of people? That’s equally disgusting.

Our response to tragedy defines our character. And right now, I really worry about what this says about our country.

I want more empathy in this country. Not bitterness. Not hypocrisy. Not selective outrage or exploitation. I still have faith in people—that we are all inherently good at heart. That we are capable of grace, even when we disagree.  I know that we are. Please, prove me right.

After the events of the day Yvette and I went for happy hour and fried mushrooms. We needed a break from the world. Such heavy bullshit.

Horror season 2025 is here!

What a time! My favorite time of the year. It’s no surprise that it also happens during autumn, when the temperatures drop and pumpkins are aplenty. 

I decided to kick off the season with the first official film: The Cabin in the Woods. A great horror-comedy that throws all tropes out the window. I love how it features a major twist that was never actually hidden from the viewer—it’s introduced right at the beginning. Somehow, the previews never once spoiled it. I’ll say little more about the plot because I’d hate to be the person who spoiled a thirteen-year-old film for someone.

I still remember seeing this one for the first time in the theater. I only had a vague idea of what to expect. I’ve always loved horror films set in remote locations, but what I got was so much more. That Nine Inch Nails song blasting during the credits—and the goosebumps I had? What a great feeling. It was fresh horror that I devoured.

The film was released in the spring of 2012. If I recall correctly, not many good horror movies were getting wide theatrical releases at the time. If you wanted to find horror, you had to hunt it down on  video or get lucky and find it streaming on Netflix. The other option was to purchase it from Amazon or Apple. That was about all we had back in the day. I kind of miss the simplicity.

The Cabin in the Woods ranks high on my list of most enjoyable horror films. It’s just a fun ride you want to climb back on, especially because it benefits from multiple viewings.

Seemed appropriate to kick the season off with a banger.

Try and have a happy Friday!!

Jalapeño.

Pork ribeye with raspberry chipotle sauce, roasted Brussel sprouts and yellow potatoes.

Tacos el pastor.

Cajun dirty rice. Yvette’s treat.

Caribbean pork.

Stuffed potato. BBQ pulled pork. Corn. . Jalapeno. Fuck, everything.

Grilled chicken sandwich with sweet potato fries.

Nothing like kicking off the weekend with chores. It’s inevitable. Yvette got after it as soon as she woke up. I treated myself to a quick breakfast and coffee before settling into my cleaning duties. First, I needed supplies. Quick run to Home Depot and it was time to clean.

My mission was to clean our bathroom—emphasis on the shower—and reseal the base of the toilet. The clear silicone used previously was looking rather nasty, and I could tell a few areas were no longer properly sealed. The shower took the most time, as it tends to do. In that moment, I told myself again that I really need to deep-clean it more often.

Later in the day, I ran a few shopping errands for my mother. My brother was in town, and we were both cooking on Saturday night. After dropping off the groceries, we did a little sightseeing. It’s amazing how many memories I have scattered around this town and how they suddenly spring up. Moments frozen in time.

After a stroll down memory lane, Chris and I decided to grab a beer. We stopped by the new Lake House Pizzeria. What a nice place! Definitely somewhere I want to take Yvette for a date night once the weather cools down. A nice outdoor dining experience with a sunset over the water. I think it would be so romantic.

Chris and I got to work cooking the meal. I wanted most of it ready by the time Yvette and Teegan arrived. We made rigatoni with vodka sauce, grilled chicken thighs, broccolini, and a caprese salad. It might not have been the most inspiring meal we’ve collaborated on, but it was nonetheless fantastic—if a bit simple.

After dinner, we did what we usually do as brothers: roast one another. In this setting, it seemed easier to roast me. Yvette and Teegan probably didn’t feel like they knew my brother well enough to start teasing him. I took it all in good spirit. It was a fine night. I miss these family gatherings and want to have more of them.

I wish Yvette and the kids could get to know my brothers better. Hopefully, they will in time.

Sunday was a great day—fantastic weather and more fun with my brother.

Yvette, Lola, Alaya, and I met up with my mom and Chris for lunch. He really hasn’t had much time with the little girls, so that made it even more special. The food at Zero One was great. I finally tried the orange-glazed salmon I’d been eyeing on the menu for a long time—and it did not disappoint. Chris and I enjoyed a good local beer to wash down our meals.

After lunch and a trip to H-E-B, I headed to the bar for a couple of hours with my brother. We went to Parrot’s Head Tavern. I saw a lot of familiar faces I hadn’t seen in quite some time. People came up to me saying things like, “What are you doing here? It’s been a while!” Yada yada yada… the usual pleasantries and small talk.

While it was nice catching up, things have definitely changed. I’m no longer that “bar guy.” It’s not what it used to be for me. I’m a family man now.

Back when I was going through my divorce—and even up until I started dating Yvette—I spent a lot of time in bars. I know I went too often, but that’s where I knew people. I made friends at happy hours, be it either sitting at the bar or working behind the bar. It wasn’t necessarily about the drinks—though they didn’t hurt—it was the people I needed.

I headed home to prepare for dinner when it started to rain. That evening, I was grilling burgers and hotdogs. I got the grill going and threw the dogs on before the hungry guests started arriving. We were expecting eight adults and two babies. Chris stopped by for a beer—but just one. He had hung around the bar a bit after I left, so one was probably enough.

It turned out to be a really nice evening, full of fun and good food. Everyone seemed to enjoy the burgers—honestly, I think the hotdogs became a backup option. If you had to choose, which would you go for? Well, unless you’re Lola. She wanted the hotdog.

As for me, I made a burger salad. No need to sabotage myself with the extra carbs.

I enjoy having company over from time to time, and I was glad Chris stopped by. It had been about a year since he last came over.

Warfare. An Alex Garland film I tried to see in theaters two weekends in a row—but both times, it was already sold out. You might remember me complaining about this and ending up watching other movies instead. Being a war film, it makes sense: the air force base nearby was probably buying up most of the tickets.

Well, the film was great—if not deeply unsettling. But that’s the point. War isn’t pretty. War is horror. This movie doesn’t glorify it. It doesn’t make you want to enlist. There are no real heroics—just people doing their damndest to survive. It’s brutal and unrelenting in its portrayal of how quickly things can go FUBAR.

Another win for Alex Garland—easily one of the most exciting writer/directors working today.

Labor Day—we all slept in. I rolled out of bed just after 11 and made my way to my mom’s. Chris made breakfast: bacon and sweet potato egg tacos. He basically had a salsa bar set up. You could have a different salsa for every bite. Why? I don’t know.

I have to admit, I’d never thought to try sweet potato with eggs or bacon. But the end result was damn tasty.

After breakfast, we sat down and watched the original Highlander. It was on TV, so I felt obliged to watch it with the family. Classic trash movie from my youth. And when I say trash, I mean the best kind of trash.

You’ve got one of the greatest actors of my age, Sean Connery, playing an Egyptian named Ramirez. Rumor has it he was drunk most of the time while filming—which sounds right. You can tell he was having a blast with it. The only other actor who really shines is Clancy Brown, a king of genre. He must have gotten the same memo as Connery.

I’ve been watching this piece-of-shit, movie since the ’80s, and I still love it. It’s fantastic!

Labor Day was the final day for the pool—our last chance until next summer. I might have badgered everyone into making one last trip. I wanted Alaya to have a final swim day. And she really made the most of it. For whatever reason, she was in the mood to have fun. It’s almost as if she knew it was the last hurrah for the year.

To make it even better, they finally had Yvette’s piña colada. Every time we went over the past three months, they were out. I was happy she finally got her drink. I guess you could say we closed the pool out on a high note.

I’d been trying to watch Exodus: Gods and Kings all weekend, but it just wasn’t happening. Finally, Monday night, I found the time and quiet to watch it. I’d never seen the film in its entirety before—and I really liked it.

The story of Moses has been ingrained in me since I was a little boy. I’ve watched The Ten Commandments starring Charlton Heston more times than I can count. Exodus was a great modern interpretation of the biblical story—updated for the times with strong acting and impressive special effects.

Crazy I didn’t see it when it came out.

It’s hard to believe that summer is almost over. The autumn equinox will be here before we know it. You can already feel the difference in the morning temperatures—nice and brisk. The afternoons are still a living hell, but a beautiful morning makes all the difference. Sets the mood for the day.

I need to start getting all my fall décor out. That’s what I want to do: really enjoy the season. I want more fall beverages, too. I’ve had two of my favorites beer so far, but I’m craving more. I suppose I should look up a good autumn cocktail that doesn’t involve pumpkin spice. I hate that shit—as you all know.

Pumpkin spice: the devil’s concoction, if ever there was one. And now, I’ve got something new to bitch about, all thanks to that damn spice. Once that repugnant trend took over, it seemed to open the floodgates for other spices to invade the market, gleefully attaching themselves to sacred products and creating unholy abominations.

Right now, the worst offender is pickle spice. I guess it crept in slowly, but damn if it isn’t everywhere you turn at the grocery store—chips, beer, crackers, fucking cotton candy. It’s out of control.

The week can be summed up with two words: long & shit.

I might have had a little bit of a weekend hangover come Tuesday—just from spending time with my brother and it being a long weekend. I didn’t want to get out of bed. Work was crazy, and we were short-staffed. This is becoming pretty normal. Jesus…

Wednesday after work, we had a birthday celebration for Aunt Gloria at Yvette’s grandparents’ house. It was fun, and I was so happy to see her grandfather up and out again. I’d worried about how he’d do after his hospital stay, but from what I could tell, he was doing okay. We had wings, cake, and lots of laughs.

These family gatherings used to frighten me—I’m not a social butterfly. But now, I feel very comfortable. I am the only white boy in attendance, though. I never really notice those things until someone points them out.

Thursday was a FUCK of a day.

It started with a headache that lingered until I went to fucking bed.

On the way to work, I walked out of the house without my keys or my wallet. I got all settled in at work before I realized I also left without my phone and my insulin pump. Lola and Alaya were going to the park, so they dropped both items off.

Speaking of the park—that went sour real fast. While they were there, some homeless man’s dog (that wasn’t on a leash) jumped up on Alaya, scratching and frightening her. Of course, Lola freaked—anyone would’ve. She took the girl to the clinic just to be safe, and thank God, all was fine. I stopped to check on them both and Alaya was just having another adventure.

A report was filed with Animal Control, and a citation was issued to the pet owners—a violation of the city ordinance that requires all pets to be on a leash. That’s about all they can legally do. The dog didn’t really show signs of aggression, so it wasn’t at fault. The pet owners were.

It was just a damn long Thursday… and I still needed to do my expense report.

Friday arrived, and it was glorious. Not only was it the bookend to a long damn short week, but the weather was absolutely fucking beautiful. It felt like fall had finally arrived. The sky was overcast, and the temperatures were mild enough for me to enjoy a little time outside. Everyone seemed to be in a much happier mood. It solidified my decision to start putting out the fall decorations.

The day began with a comedy field trip to the hardware store—a mission that had been initiated on Tuesday and was finally underway. We’d had complications coordinating everyone’s time all week long, so we struck out bright and early that morning before distractions could cause further delays. I honestly didn’t know what the guys were working on, but I had the vehicle and the cash.

It was a trip with people I genuinely enjoy talking to, which is, of course, a damn plus. I told them about the time some baby-dick asshat called the president’s office and reported me for driving a university vehicle erratically—completely false accusations, mind you. We all agreed that once someone sees those campus decals, they immediately think lawsuit. It was also unanimous that calling the president’s office directly was a total bullshit move.

Anyway, they were both just happy I was the one driving—and not them.

I finished my expense report, we had a nice surprise rain, and everything that was wrong settled into place, finally.

That evening, we had Noah, Nadia, and Niles over for dinner. Yvette made some of her wonderful lasagna, and I made some green beans. I was feeling the weather, so I picked up a few Samuel Adams Octoberfest beers. Such a fantastic beverage—and such a beautiful night. I actually wanted to spend my time outside.

I keep thinking about the passage of time. Watching these little babies try to communicate might have something to do with it. It’s hard to believe that their parents weren’t even in this world 25 years ago. I now, sadly, think about that endless sleep more than I ever did. Maybe it was my own little brush with mortality over the summer that’s brought these newfound feelings to the surface.

They have an open door to life ahead of them still, and my door is only slowly closing.

Not trying to be morose, but this is how I think.

Happy Friday!!

Jalapeño.

Grilled chicken thigh, vodka rigatoni, broccolini and caprese salad.

Burger salad.

Spaghetti and green beans.

Wings Stop. We had a little birthday party for Yvette’s Aunt Gloria.

Chicken thigh with roasted green pepper sauce.

Yvette’s lasagna and my green beans.

Saturday evening Yvette and I decided to watch a movie, The Life of Chuck. I’ve been waiting and wondering about this one. A Stephen King short story adapted by one of my favorites, Mike Flanagan. To say the least—it was beautiful.

I was initially concerned about how the story’s structure would translate to film, but it fucking worked. The story is written in reverse chronological order. Flanagan continues to impress. For someone who’s only been in the business a little over ten years, his filmography is already stacked. The Life of Chuck marks his third Stephen King adaptation—and his first film that isn’t rooted in horror.

The story was in the right hands.

At its core, it’s about how each life is unique and how every moment is significant, no matter how mundane it may seem. All the people we meet along the way become part of our own little universe. It was so satisfying to finally see the film brought to life. And that dance number? Truly exhilarating.

Weekends never last long enough.

Sunday we had lunch with my mom at The Grill. A nice little spot that serves a bit of everything. I’d been having a major craving for pasta lately. I have no clue why, but it’s all I want these days. Thankfully, I had a couple of options: chicken parmesan or rigatoni. I went with the rigatoni, which came with a pork and beef marinara sauce. It was fucking fantastic. I ate it all and left feeling stuffed—bloated might be the more accurate term. A big lunch like that isn’t typical for me; I usually keep lunch light. But I was totally enamored by the pasta.

All in all, it was a great little gathering between my mom, Yvette, and I.

After lunch, we ran a bunch of errands with overly full stomachs—just a few stops for basic household goods before the week kicked off. Once we got home, I meal prepped for Monday so that I’d only have to do the bare minimum after work. Life feels simple and easy when everything moves in sync.

The kids were coming back, so dinner needed some thought. Yvette and I planned on having shrimp and baked potatoes. For the kids, we picked up BBQ pulled pork to make stuffed potatoes. Of course, Lola didn’t want that—typical picky eater. It made me laugh. Yvette ran out and grabbed her a frozen pizza. That actually turned into a win for Teegan, who got to have some of our shrimp instead. In the end, I think everyone was satisfied.

Talking with the kids, it sounds like their trip was mostly okay. Teegan had fun. Lola and Noah seemed to have some sort of sibling rivalry going on—arguing over whose “parenting skills” were better. My take on it is that they were both vying for their father’s attention… and it sounds like he may have neglected Alaya. Poor girl.

I can’t pretend to understand exactly how the kids feel. I don’t know what it’s like to have divorced parents, but I know it can’t be easy. I always hope they have a good time when they’re with their dad.

It was a nice weekend alone with Yvette, but it felt great to have the kids back in the house. It’s the little things I miss—the pitter-patter of Alaya running down the hallway, Teegan yelling at his video games… just that extra life in the house.

I never thought the house would be this full, and I thoroughly enjoy it.

Monday kicked off the Fall Semester. First day of class!! Summer is officially over on campus. Mixed feelings tug at me. The tranquility of summer is now gone with the return of students. On the other hand, there’s a fresh excitement in the air, radiating from their presence. There are so many new faces. They meander around like hikers lost in the woods. I was asked on at least three separate occasions where a building or classroom was located. Lucky for these kids, I can give decent directions without a map. I used to keep a stack of maps in the golf cart this time of year, but the campus stopped printing them due to cost. I guess they assumed people could navigate with their phones using the online maps. Well, smart guys—they can’t.

I might find some hindrance in my work when the students return to campus, but I love the electric spark that fills the air. They bring an energy that’s infectious in its own way—the excitement of independence from their parents. Some have come from great distances, leaving behind the life they knew and found comfort in. It’s a big step, going to college and stepping away from the world you grew up in.

The day wasn’t all rainbows. I had a moment that utterly pissed me off. It was about the raise. Yvette finally received her letter acknowledging our raise, and it was completely different from mine. It implied I didn’t get the merit raise, only the 2% across-the-board increase. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to quit my job. I was this close to applying for a position at McMurdo and moving to Antarctica. I’ve always wanted to go to Antarctica.

Later, I found my paperwork—it does say I received the merit raise, but it makes no mention of the across-the-board increase. Oh well, that part probably goes without saying. My anger subsided a bit.

One tradition some of my fellow staff members and I have is taking “back to school” photos. It started in the fall of 2020 during the COVID pandemic. People honestly weren’t sure if they’d be going back to school at all. It was questionable whether the campus would even reopen. Scary to think about those days.

Originally, it was just four of us: Yvette, Jamie, Ella, and me. Somehow, we’ve kept this silly tradition going for six years now. Crazy how time flies.

Anyway, I was the one who organized it this year. I reached out to Ella, while Yvette found a few others to join. This year, we had two newbies and four returning members—minus Jamie. Not bad for such short notice. I’m always happy when new people join. I want it to become a tradition for them.

Over the years, people have come and gone, but the core group has remained the same. The founders, if you will.

Our campus is like a wildlife preserve—we really have such a variety of critters. This week, I had another first. After dropping Yvette off at work, I was slowly making my way across campus to the office. On my usual route, I encountered something special: six javelina hogs just strolling across campus. Well… they were being pursued. The “boys in blue” were hot on their trail.

What a blessing it is to laugh that hard before work. How great!

But the best part of the week came next. One of the police officers actually decided to chase the pigs. On foot. That’s right—six large pigs versus one average-sized adult male. What on earth was this guy thinking? What was he going to do if he caught up to them? What if they felt threatened and turned on him? Would he actually pull his “big boy gun” to defend himself from some pigs on campus?

I honestly don’t know—but it was hilarious.

I laughed my ass off at the sight. All he managed to do was drive the javelina further into town and across a busy street. They darted right in front of my vehicle, making me tap the brakes. But I didn’t even care. I was thrilled to witness this absurd act of pig-on-pig action. A pig chasing pigs. My lord, all the pigs all lines up. Marvelous!

So… do y’all remember a little hurricane called Katrina? Well, if you do—that was 20 years ago. If you remember that storm making landfall, you must be getting old like I am. I was in my mid-twenties, just trying to figure out what life was. I was going into my second year back in college. I had no idea what I wanted to do. I liked literature and was good at geology. I liked to party a little too much. I was chasing some girl who had no interest in me. I was writing poetry and music to help make sense of things. I guess I was essentially lost in life, trying to find my direction.

I suppose that’s the reason I recall Katrina so vividly—it was the fall semester of the year I began to find myself.

This week my friends over at The Weather Channel were doing a little twenty-year remembrance—basically sharing their war stories. News was broadcast very differently 20 years ago. Cell phones weren’t what they are today, and they relied heavily on satellite just to stay on air. During that storm, a huge area went dark for a long time. There was no communication, so they didn’t even know if their team was safe without physically packing up and driving to check.

I remember meteorologist Stephanie Abrams making it her mission to find her colleague Jim Cantore, who had gone dark. I feel like I got to know some of the on-screen meteorologists and weather personalities during that storm—Jim Cantore and Stephanie Abrams in particular. Nothing was scripted, and everything anyone knew about a live weather broadcast was thrown out the window. It was crazy. Everything I learned about Katrina, I watched in real time on The Weather Channel.

The storm surge reached a record high—28 feet in some regions. The storm itself was almost the size of the entire Gulf of Mexico—insane to see on the radar. New Orleans was below sea level, so needless to say, they were fucked. The city fell victim to both a man-made disaster and a natural one when the levees broke. Around 80% of the city ended up underwater.

Those of us who lived through that time will all remember the aftermath. It reshaped the coastal states and played a major role in the country’s politics. Everyone was playing the blame game for the failed infrastructure. The nation was kind of a mess. Not quite like it is today, but a mess nonetheless.

The displacement of people due to Katrina was monumental. Neighborhoods were never rebuilt. Katrina left a defining scar on America that hasn’t completely healed. 

Since that landfall I’ve seen some pretty scary storms hit, but at the time I hadn’t seen anything quite like Katrina. Twenty years ago. Feels like yesterday in some ways—and a lifetime ago in others.

Jalapeño

Steak with balsamic reduction and blue cheese served with grilled asparagus and Alfredo noodles.

Stuffed shells. Good lord it was worth making this meal. It’s a bit of a bitch, but doing the prep work the day before is the way to go about it.

Chili dogs.

Chimichurri steak tacos with a quick pickled onion.

Chicken fried steak with mac & peas/carrots.

Caribbean Jerk Pork.

Pt.1: Move-In Week

The weekend started off well. A little road trip with my mom to Ballinger, Tx to place some flowers on my grandparents grave. Her parents. It was a nice drive and we had some good conversation. A drive that we use to take so frequently when I was but a boy. We were either visiting just for the heck of it or we were having big family gatherings for the holidays. My cousins, aunt and uncle and whoever else was around. The memories mean a lot to me and I do miss those days. How quickly we grow up. I made the trip so many damn times I probably have days of my life that could be added up by the time spent driving.

It’s really a rather boring drive, to be honest. Boring because it is just flat ass farm land with nothing at all to see. You pass through two little communities, one with a drawn out speed trap and the other so small that if you blink you would miss it. My grandfather was keen on saying that. Hell, I made the drive the day before when I was going to Abilene with Yvette. I had no intention of making it two days in a row for completely different reasons. If you have the right company, it goes rather quickly and enjoyably.

Ballinger is nostalgic. So many memories.  The Park.  The duck pond.  Little kid adventures. We made our way to the cemetery.  The place needed some upkeep but in this kind of heat and drought, what really can one do.   We place some nice flowers on their graves.  It was a nice moment with my mom.  We kind of reflected on the two of them and wondered around the cemetery, looking at various graves before the heat broke us down.

Afterwards we drove around the town and went sightseeing. The Ballinger Country Club and the old house. We made our way to a restaurant both of us had seen for over 20 years but never went, Alejandra’s. The food was amazing and the staff were so friendly. A really neat building that’s been standing for over 100 years. I’m glad to have finally gone inside because for all these years I have been wanting to but just never really had a reason. It was a nice lunch with my mom and the perfect way to cap off the day trip.

That Saturday evening, we had a little birthday celebration for Nadia. It was originally planned for Olive Garden, and I was psyched—I hadn’t been there before. I know it’s just chain restaurant food, but I wanted to go somewhere I hadn’t been. That fell through for a better place: Joe’s Italian, a local joint that’s been serving it fresh for about 20 years or so.

The gathering was fun. We all lingered for a good two hours, stuffing ourselves with food and conversation. That’s the way a good family gathering should be. I ordered the lasagna—I think that’s the only thing I’ve ordered from Joe’s in at least 10 years. Hell, probably longer than that. If it ain’t broke, you know.

A sleepy Sunday. We stayed up way too late and slept in late. I played some of my Nintendo while Yvette went to a first birthday party. I made some grocery runs before getting back home and getting ready for a college going-away party at Yvette’s brother’s. Good food and good times. It was a weekend full of parties.

Move In week on campus. This was basically hell week for everyone. Every last minute task and afterthought is rushed to be completed, Everyone is on edge to make sure that all is perfect for the kids and the parents. The dreaded Move-In Day.

First thing on Monday was dropping off Yvette to have a new tire put on. We had thought that her car was driving a little rough after the trip to Galveston, and we were right. The tire itself seemed to be unraveling—something I would have thought the dealership in Abilene would have noticed when they were working on the vehicle Friday, but no… We drove all the way back on a tire that was ready for a blowout. Bullshit.

The week started with a sigh and relief. Troy was off Monday-Tuesday, so I was filling in for him. Good that he was gone, so I didn’t have to hear him, but bad because I carried his workload. It’s a busy time of year, right before the kids start moving into the dorms. I was busy. It seemed that housing waited until the last minute to check the microwaves in the dorms to see whether they needed new ones or not. If you are going to need 20 microwaves of a certain size, it’s not a simple task on short notice. I cleaned out three stores in town—Lowe’s, Home Depot, and Target—of 0.7 cu ft microwaves. It still wasn’t enough. Had they given us a count earlier, both the week before and during that week, we could have purchased in bulk and been done. Typical. I vote we just go ahead and do that next year so we’re not scrambling around town.

Move-in day was absolutely fucking crazy. I will say, at least Troy was back—and I wasn’t the one buying. So, what was I doing? I was doing Seth’s job, because he decided to take the rest of the week off. Typical. He was pissed about the letter saying we only get a 2% raise. What this means is once again I won’t be having a week in the office. This will be the fourth office week I’ve skipped—either because I’ve been filling in or out of town. Not that I’m complaining; you all know I hate being stuck in the office anyway.

On Thursday, we had our campus assembly—one in the morning and another more relaxed outing after work, with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres. I missed the morning event since I was the only one in the office, but I definitely made a point to show up for the after-work gathering. Poor Yvette had to sit through the same speeches twice, since she went to both.

The food and drinks were much needed. I really enjoyed myself, and it’s always nice to see people that are usually super uptight finally loosen up a bit. The little finger hors d’oeuvres are always fun. Philly egg rolls, lamb, mini beef Wellington, pork belly burnt ends, shrimp… the list goes on. Let’s just say Yvette and I definitely weren’t hungry after work.

It was after dark, and I was finally settling in to relax and watch a show when the doorbell rang. It was my neighbors—apparently, a large portion of one of my mesquite trees had blown over during the afternoon storm and landed on their car. Real bummer. The damage appeared minimal, but still—damn.

The main thing they wanted was to get it off the vehicle, which is totally understandable. They mentioned they had a ranch hand who could help with that part, as long as I paid him. Fair enough. I figured we could sort out the rest from there. I assumed they had insurance that might cover it, and maybe I’d be on the hook for the deductible? I wasn’t really sure.

The week finally came to its conclusion with Friday. The kids were heading to San Antonio to visit their father, and Yvette and I decided to make a date night out of it. I had made reservations at a special spot for us—BIGA Bistro.

The morning hit like a hammer. No one else showed up to work. Seth had the day off, which I knew in advance, but Troy called in—on the Friday of hell week, no less. The worst possible time to be left holding the fort. Now I was covering three jobs and juggling personal bullshit.

My neighbor wouldn’t stop calling about the tree and the vehicle damage. I kept trying to reach my insurance agent, who was apparently unreachable. On top of that, I was dealing with my healthcare provider, trying to get up to speed with the new tech used for blood sugar monitoring. It was a relentless, exhausting day. Constant bullshit from every direction.

But finally—finally—work ended. Yvette and I got all dressed up for our night out. We both needed it. Badly. She looked amazing in a dress that I have never seen before. I tried my best to match her beauty but it wasn’t possible. My wife is beautiful.

We made it to BIGA and ordered some calamari that I’d argue it’s the best in town. I went with the special, and Yvette ordered off the menu. The tired and true menu item was the winner of the night. She out-ordered me. Yvette also finally got the croissant she had been wanting since our first visit a year ago. Only two left and she snagged one.

Dinner was exactly what we needed.

The evening was our first alone in over a month, and the date was beautiful. I love my wife—she makes me so happy. I’ll admit, I can be a pain in the ass. Honestly, I’d venture to say everyone is, but that’s a whole different conversation for another time.

The point is: we mesh. She’s my everything, and I feel truly blessed.

Happy fucking Friday!!!

Pt.2: Remembrance

I’ve been thinking about my grandparents in Ballinger ever since my mom and I visited on Saturday. Oh how much I do miss them. It’s hard to believe they’ve been gone as long as they have. When you’re young, you think they’ll be there forever. Unfortunately, I found out that wouldn’t be the case at a very early age—when my Papa Ted passed away around the time I was eight. Because of my our trip, I’m going to keep this entry solely focused upon my grandparents from her side of the family since memories with them are what Ballinger stirred up.

My Pop was also gone too soon, but at least I had twice the amount of time with him. I was only sixteen when he passed away from colon cancer. I didn’t take it well. He was one of my heroes, and I dreaded seeing him weak. One of my regrets in life is not visiting him as much as I should have before he passed. I look back and know I should have said goodbye. I’ll carry that with me forever.

He was a man who always made me laugh—full of jokes and good spirits. I remember catching my first fish with him. We were at the Ballinger Country Club, fishing on their little lake. Honestly, after all these years, that still stands as my favorite fishing memory. It was just a small perch, but to my young eyes, it was a glimpse into another world beneath the water. I never really had much desire to fish throughout the rest of my life. Quite frankly, I think it’s a little cruel now that I’m older.

Pop also helped teach me how to ride a bike. I remember riding in circles in my grandparents’ neighbor’s driveway during “training.” I pedaled and pedaled until he helped me find my balance. After that newfound freedom, I rode my bike everywhere my parents permitted—and at times, where they didn’t. A kid with a bike was free. I know I would have eventually learned, but I still consider him the one who showed me the way.

A funny aside about him teaching me to ride a bike: he also taught me how to drive a golf cart, which is funny because I still drive one for work. He loved to play golf, and my brother Chris and I loved riding around on the cart with him while he played. The first time he let me behind the wheel was both magical and terrifying. It was exhilarating. I acted as his caddy on those days—until I drove into a tree. I somehow hit the gas instead of the brake. To this day, we joke that I killed that tree.

Speaking of golf, that was one of the only things on at my grandparents’ house during the day—either golf or Days of Our Lives, which Meeme watched. Pop loved his golf so much that he spent a lot of his time not playing it, but simply watching it. To this day, there’s something relaxing about watching golf. It kind of eases me into a calm.

We had lots of adventures with Pop down at the park. He took us places that were supposed to be our little secrets—places off the beaten path, like walking over the creek dam. No one was supposed to be on the dam, so said the sign. But he would take us around the sign and across the creek. It was breaking the rules, and it was all sorts of fun for a little boy. On the other side, we’d head down to the shallow end of the creek to look for mussels and hope to find pearls.

“Pull my finger.” The first time I heard that phrase—I assume most of you know what it means—you pull a finger, and the other person audibly farts or toots. This was followed by, “I must have stepped on a frog.” I laughed so hard as a child that I had to run inside and show my parents. I think they were mostly amused that Pop taught me something like that. Maybe they weren’t amused at all. I’d have to ask my mother.

Meeme was the sweetest lady in the world. She was also beautiful. She always dressed nicely, even on days when it wasn’t practical or she wasn’t feeling well. She had a bit of vanity, but it was part of who she was. She was radiant because of it. She passed away twelve years ago, when I was only 32. It blows my mind how long ago that was. Time is so fluid in how we move through it.

I have a wealth of memories with her. When I was little, we would draw sharks together. She had a bit of an artistic touch, which she passed down to me. I remember how proud she was when I attended my first art classes as a little boy. Throughout my life, she would always ask if I had drawn or painted anything. I wish I could have told her I had. I wish I could have shown her a new painting, but I gave it up after high school. I still wonder why I stopped. I’ve since lost the touch, which makes me wonder if I could find it again.

She loved birds. You might call her an amateur bird-watcher. That love for feathered friends is something she passed along to me. She would call me later in life, when I was attending school at Texas Tech in Lubbock, just to let me know she had seen four cardinal-red birds. It’s the little things like that I remember most fondly.

When I was at my grandparents’ house, Meeme would always make sure to have orange juice for me. I loved OJ back then. Ironically, due to my diabetes, I can’t really enjoy it anymore without consequences. I loved that OJ. I know it was frozen concentrate, but damn, that was the best you could buy.

I also miss her tuna sandwiches—such a simple thing, but also so wonderful. She was a great cook, and her contributions to the holiday spread were always something to look forward to—well, everything except the lime green Jell-O mold. Not everyone is perfect.

I vividly remember all the beautiful plants she had on her patio. She had so many flowers, and everything was always in bloom. When she reached the point where she could no longer hunch over to plant her pots, my mother and I would gather various flora and pot them for her. At the time, it felt like a minor chore, but I still recall how happy she was after we finished. She had a green thumb, which she passed down to my mother and me. It’s more apparent to me now than ever just how much of that was passed on. My mom also has a backyard full of beautiful plants. I joke that there are too many, but in truth, I love them—and I love that she keeps Meeme’s memory alive with every bloom.

Some of my later memories involve small things: trips to the grocery store or helping with chores around the house and yard she could no longer handle on her own. After these little errands, we’d often sit together, eat something I picked up while out, and just visit. Most often, we had The Weather Channel on. We both loved the weather and even knew the names of all the meteorologists on TWC. Our favorites included Vivian Brown, who she thought was so beautiful. I’m sort of glad she wasn’t around when they let Vivian go due to budget cuts.

Memories with them are gifts from my childhood. Grandparents have such a profound impact on a child’s life. I wouldn’t be who I am without them. They helped shape me into the person I am today. Going back to those times with my mother was truly special.

As we get older, we look at the past in a way we never looked at the future. We see things we could or should have done. All those times my grandparents told me the years would go by quicker once you get older—I wasn’t entirely sure they were speaking the truth. Now I know they were.

A summer as a child seems to last forever. As I’m writing this, summer is almost over, and I can hardly believe it, because it feels like it only began yesterday. You always think you have more time. Always time. I know I’m guilty of that.

There’s so much I wish I could go back and ask my grandparents now—what life was like, what it was like growing up, what hobbies they had, what it was like being a parent, what it was like being a grandparent. Simply: what were your favorite books, movies, songs? I wish I had asked more questions. God, I wish I had known them better.

If you’re lucky enough to still have your grandparents around, please cherish them for as long as you possibly can. That goes for your parents, too. Just make the time—because it’s slipping away. Always slipping away.

Jalapeño

Alice Springs Chicken.

Taco al Pastor.

Egg roll stir-fry.

Work food.

BIGA. Steak and ravioli

I woke up and made myself some breakfast. I was up at 7 a.m. It would be a while before anyone else woke up. I had leftover chicken-fried steak with some over-easy eggs. A damn good start to the day. I had my coffee and managed to get some reading in while it was quiet.

I ran errands—Lowe’s, Sam’s, Target, and HEB. I made it back home, and my family was starting to stir. I had to package an eBay sale; that was my next move. I sold a shirt that had been on the market for almost a year to the day. I asked Yvette to iron it for me because I hate selling shirts that aren’t presentable. I sold a band shirt for $100, and I didn’t even have an iron at the time, so I did my best to make it look okay. My standards living alone were mid to lower level when it came to wrinkles. No negative feedback, but damn, I felt like I sort of gypped him.

“Weapons” was the Saturday movie. I was meeting my mom for another mother/son movie date. Of course, I wasn’t going to get Yvette to tag along with me to another one of my weird horror films. Besides, she was shopping with Lola.

I was running late after leaving the grocery store and trying to get home quickly to eat lunch. Damn, the time just slipped away from me. I grabbed some bottled water and candy to save us nearly $20 on concessions and was out the door with ten minutes to spare. Of course, I had to hit every red light and encounter a maximum number of bad drivers in that two-mile stretch from my house to the theater. I was cursing some dipshit going 28 mph in a 45 mph zone when my mom called wondering where I was.

The movie was a fucking trip. Yes, it was scary, but what surprised me the most was how damn funny it was. I found myself laughing quite a lot. It was certainly a very original film. The structure was really cool, and that ending—my gosh, it went bat shit crazy quickly. My mother and I were both very happy we came.

I woke up Sunday feeling hungry. I also suffered from a bad case of indecision. At one point, I almost went to get burritos, but the only thing that stopped me was the inflation cost of burritos these days. So, I put my head against the wall and came up with something really on the fly: chilaquiles. The first time I made this dish was during my creative endeavors in the COVID times. I’ve since made it a few times, but not regularly. It turned out really well, but the family really didn’t want anything to do with it.

Mall shopping—that was one of the plans for the day. As you know, I hate the mall, but at least ours is tiny. It was a little busy, though. I had forgotten that it was tax-free weekend. First, we went to American Eagle to find a couple of shirts for Teegan. I actually found a good shirt for a damn good price. I wasn’t expecting to walk away with anything for myself. Look at that.

We continued shopping—Dillard’s, Marshalls, and some shoe store I can’t recall. Yvette eventually found some really nice shoes. Funny that the scariest place in the entire mall was the women’s shoe section at Dillard’s. Good lord. Women scurrying around with a feverish glint in their eyes, almost foaming at the mouths, looking at the 65% shoe sales. I was afraid I was going to get attacked just for being in the way. She found her shoes, and we left without much injury.

Lola wanted to go to Walmart, and since we were nearby and could use a few items, we met her there. Walmart is always a trip. Personally, I enjoy the people-watching. We grabbed a few groceries and some other things before heading out. That was enough shopping for me for one day—I think I endured three full hours. Incredible.

Pool time for relaxation—really, it’s all for Alaya. We gathered up and made the trip. The place was relatively empty, which surprised me considering it was the last weekend before school started. Maybe families were out on their final summer trips? Whatever the reason, it was damn relaxing—a fitting close to a nice weekend.

Monday was a really good day at work and a nice start to the week. Since the boss was gone, everyone was a little more relaxed, and the office was relatively quiet. The salvage crew found a plentiful amount of fake plants that the dorms no longer wanted, so what did we do? Decorate! We filled my boss’s office and turned it into a jungle perfect for Ted to make himself at home. Goddamn paradise for our drunk little coworker, Mr. Bear.

That night, I watched the movie Snatch (2000). I can’t even remember the last time I saw it, but damn, if that wasn’t a comfort film on a Monday night. Such a great film—funny and just all around engaging. Brad Pitt is hilarious. I’ve always liked Guy Ritchie films, and Snatch might just be my favorite one. This was a film that came out during my first year in college, and I remember vividly watching it all the time with my old friends. I know all the laughs like I know the back of my hand.

The morning was beautiful come Tuesday. Crisp air, soft light — it really felt like fall. A nice surprise, but a cruel tease all the same. The heat wasn’t ready to relent just yet. Everyone knew August could still bare its teeth and deliver the hottest days of the summer.

I started a new show on Hulu, Alien: Earth. It’s a prequel to the Alien movie franchise — another prequel, if you will. We’ve already had Prometheus and Covenant, but this one feels more direct, taking place only a few years before the original 1979 film.

I was curious to see how Alien would transfer to the small screen. I’ve been watching the movies since I was way too young to be watching the movies. Since the 1980s. Would this show add up?

The first episode was actually quite good.

From what I can tell, this series will shift focus a bit. Rather than just the xenomorphs and the terror they bring, Alien: Earth seems more interested in the real evil that’s always lurked in the background: the corporations. The puppet masters. Mainly, Weyland-Yutani — the company pulling strings and making decisions that led to most of the horror in the films.

So far, the show is off to a promising start.

The Big Morning Meeting:

We had our “big” morning meeting this week. Total waste of time. Same old recycled talking points, same empty enthusiasm. I could see what they were doing — stalling.

Everyone knew what we were really there for: the promise of a raise.

And, being the benevolent entity they are, they saved it for last.

A whopping 2% raise across the board.

What an insult.

No one had much to say after that. Not out loud, anyway.

Morale tanked. The rest of the day dragged. You could feel it in the room — that silent, heavy mix of frustration and resignation.

Pathetic.

I was so thankful to have Friday off. I didn’t want to do another minute of work for the cheap assholes who employ me. Frankly, I was pissed.

All year we’d been hearing how well the university was doing, how our hard work was being noticed, how this year’s raise was going to reflect that. Bullshit.

It was all just noise. Empty words to keep us going until they could slide in a 2% raise and act like they were doing us a favor. This year’s raise was the lowest we’ve had in at least a decade. Meanwhile, the cost of living keeps climbing — and our paychecks keep falling behind.

I don’t even know why I was surprised. Maybe because I actually believed them this time. Fuck them. Days like this make me want to find a new job.

Instead, I went home. Cooked. Had a couple beers. Tried to relax. Tried to forget how angry I was — and how tired.

The next morning, we woke up early and hit the road. I was about an hour behind Yvette — she had to take her car out of town to get some work done at a VW dealership. They said it could take anywhere from 6 to 8 hours.

Figured if we were going to be stuck somewhere that long, we might as well make a day of it. So, I put together a little itinerary.

Once I picked Yvette up from the hell she’d been stuck waiting at, we went looking for some Dr. Seuss. Abilene is the Storybook Capital of America. Who the hell knew that?

Apparently, they’ve got story sculptures and quotes scattered all over the downtown area. Our first stop was the old historic train station — and honestly, it was pretty damn cool.

Yvette read me Seuss while we wandered around, taking in the art. It was one of those strange little detours that actually worked out.

Next, we ventured over to the convention center to continue the story trail. This is where we found the Three Little Pigs, Goldilocks and the Bears, and so many others. It was a nice little stroll through a beautifully shaded area. From the looks of it, the place would be even more magical lit up at night.

We saw so many familiar faces from our shared childhoods — the kind that sneak up on you and make you smile without realizing it.

Our next stop was The Grace Museum — and it put the San Angelo museum to shame. Hands down the most engaging exhibit I’ve seen in a long time.

The interactive section was dark — not just in mood, but in message. It painted a stark portrait of the world before we ruined it with pollutants, and the bleak aftermath we’re hurtling toward. The voice-over narration? Enough to scare children. I loved it. They encouraged visitors to leave a message behind, so I did: “The stars are but memories of stars. Memories are what we are.” Yes, I quoted myself. Silly or not, it felt right. I think that’s what I’ll title this blog.

A final bit of art — this time on a nearby college campus tucked into the community. I’ve always had an appreciation for some biblical art, and this piece was Jacob Dreaming. It felt like a fitting end to the little art voyage. Now onto the normal things in life.

First things first — food. A friend from campus gave us a bunch of recommendations, but only one spot happened to be nearby: The Biscuit Bar. The place was different in a good way. The food hit the spot, and the area around it was surprisingly beautiful. It felt open, walkable, and ripe for exploring. So we did. We wandered. We wasted more time. And it was exactly what we needed.

Next, we went shopping. The rest of the trip was more Yvette’s vibe, but it was nice. We bought a pumpkin, and at the mall, we had a good time just wandering around, checking out various stores.

I’ve mentioned in a few blogs how much I hate malls. Honestly, I think it’s the people I hate — the noise and chaos. But a mellow mall? Not so bad. I actually found more stores I liked in that little Abilene mall than I have in Austin. I even found a gift for Teegan.

All in all, the day was really fun.

We made the most of being stuck in a town for hours — because that’s what we do. We have fun together and find ways to make the best of situations we don’t want to be in. Eventually, we hit the road and headed back home to the kids.

Happy Friday!!!

Jalapeño.

Filled salmon, baked potato and broccoli.

Chilaquiles.

Buffalo wings and breaded green beans.

Hibachi.

Chicken yakitori bowl w/ Asian cucumber salad & hoisin sautéed mushrooms,

Carne guisada bowl.

La Azteca Meat Market.

Ram-don, also known as Jjapaguri.