Textuous's blog, page 1

Last login: 3 hours agoTextuous: Textuous is a 51 year old guy from Near-N-Yondered, Texas, USA.; Likes 6 pages • 75 fans • Received 47 reviews; Member since Mar 30, 2006

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Jul 16, 11:14am: SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS

Ok neighbors...I know this may not be the most desirable topic of conversation around the campfire, but since you're here...

Recently, I got the once-in-lifetime opportunity to replace and repair a genuine, rural, passive, domestic sewer system...which has been in service for forty-something years. Whoever said you can't teach an old dog new tricks wasn't out there for three days, while the heat index climbed to well over 110 degrees. I was, and I learned a LOT of things I never gave a whole lot of thought to before.

Things like...

Me and Mr. Shovel just don't get along like we used to. These days, even with gloves on, he insists on inviting blisters to the party, and sadly, I've become quite prejudiced towards their religious and political beliefs.

Things like...

There should be a law somewhere which says that if you borrow a backhoe from a friend, the seat CANNOT be made of back vinyl. During lunch breaks, if left to it's own designs, such sitting places can become superheated by the lovely Texas sunshine...to the point of scalding the unsuspecting cowboy's butt in three places

Things like...

Backhoes are fun to use. With very little effort, not only can you dig holes and trenches...you can rip up roots, water pipes, telephone cables, satellite TV wires... even natural gas supply lines. And when backfilling holes and trenches, you can bury rose bushes and small shrubs, permanently change the shape of lawn furniture, and make all the volunteer help move their vehicles without even asking. Amazing...

There are REALLY cool scientific things too...like...

If you dig a big hole in the middle of the back yard, and use the backhoe to dip all the goop out of the septic tank...and if you put said goop into the big hole, and then cover it up with dirt...you end up with a perfectly camouflaged big hole of goop...and backhoes DO get stuck. Normally, mud is mud...but goop is in a different odoriferous class altogether.

Things...like...

BBQ sandwiches and replacements of sewer systems are not a good mix, especially if the water for hand-washing is turned off due to broken and mangled water pipes. So lets not even go there...ok?

But all in all, the new system went in quickly and efficiently...and it works quite well. The contractor wanted $1500 for a turn-key job, but with help from my friends, it only ran about $700 above that. PLUS, the satisfaction of doing it myself was priceless. Wonder what it would cost to put a new roof on the tree-house...

Meyer

Jul 8, 2:42pm: TIME OUT (dammit)

*long, slow, deep breath*

Whew, it has been one helluva last few months, neighbors.

At work, cowboyin' suddenly turned into a nightmare of schedules and deadlines and stress. And about that same time, I got myself my very own first grandbaby, and he's a keeper...so after cowboyin' all day, I go home to find the tree house will never be the same.

And then, there's this other "something" that's come along, and while I keep sayin' I don't really understand exactly what it is, I've got this real sneaky suspicion that I DO, and all that's left is admittin' it out loud. Everyone involved already knows... it's just a matter of puttin' it into words. But geez...I never was very good with words.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I've completely abandoned some really good friends in here, and some things just can't be fixed with "I'm sorrys". Any cowboy worth sittin' on a horse knows that.

So...I'm thinkin' about changin' professions...maybe becomin' a pirate or something. You know...buryin' treasure and takin' prisoners and all that other swashbucklin' stuff. Maybe get me one of those three-cornered hats and a hammock. Walk around with my shirt unbuttoned all the time.

Maybe...

Hey...it was just a thought...

Love always,
Meyer

Jul 8, 4:20am: ...
I awoke last night to the sound of thunder,
How far off I sat and wondered.
Started humming a song from 1962...
Ain't it funny how the night moves.

- Bob Seger

Jul 8, 4:11am: ...
And some folks loves ham hocks
and some folks loves pork chops
and some folks love vegetable soup.

But Roland the roadie
loves Gertrude the groupie,
but Gertrude the groupie loves groups.

- Dr Hook

Jun 26, 2:38pm: ADVENTURES IN STYLE

I was mendin' fence out by the highway when this car pulled up.
Woman driver.
She opened her mouth and when words came out, I knew.
Yankee-gurl.
She wanted to know if I any idea how to get to...somewhere or the other.
Sure did.
But she started to grin when I mentioned "far piece" and "down yonder".
Go figure.
So I walked off the shoulder, bent down, and picked her a field daisy.
34 petals.
I told her that's a Fibonacci number, and she told me she had no idea.
Smart cowboy?
So we talked about physiology, and ethics, even novice anatomy.
My favorite.
But after a while, she had to get going, so I wished her goodbye.
Too bad.
Then she said she'd be passin' through this way again real soon, and just might...
Get lost.

Hmmmmmm...

Some things happen without reason or logic or means to understand `em.
It's scary.
But the girl had a way of makin' a cowboy feel melted, way down deep.
Just sayin'.
And lately I'm ponderin' how easy I could start feelin' four letter endearments.
And such.
And I'm wonderin', just wonderin'...if maybe, just maybe...she's ponderin' the same.
Like me.

Meyer

Jun 23, 3:32pm: GHOST STORY

Along about 1910 or so, three brothers, all of them chemists by trade, were working together in a private pharmaceutical laboratory. Aspirin had only recently become popular, and they were studying it's properties and benefits. At any rate, quite by accident, a bottle of common cough syrup was left uncapped in a closed test chamber containing various other materials, and the next morning, the thick red liquid was found to have solidifed. So without really trying, the brothers had *invented* the world's first cough drops. Perhaps you've heard of them...their last name was Luden.

Within a few months, it was evident that the success of this remarkable new product was beyond anything the brothers had imagined. But having the cautious, meticulous, and somewhat wary attitude of scientists of the times, they worried that this might merely prove to be a passing fad. All agreed that they should invest their money instead of changing their lifestyles.

The oldest brother decided to place his money in the future of gold, a wise and very safe long term investment. The middle brother bought interest in the growing resturant business along the blossoming railroad network. But the youngest brother, being perhaps the shrewdest of them all, found a very lucrative opportunity in real estate.

By doing a bit of research, this young man discovered that many of the old, abandoned plantation homes in the area could be purchased for pennies on the dollar of their original value, simply because they were in minor disrepair. An investor might, for example, purchase one for a mere five thousand dollars, and by risking another five in sprucing it up, the finished product could retail for over fifty thousand dollars. Sight unseen, the young scientist bought three houses, all within thirty miles of each other.

On a bright and warm spring morning, young Luden set out with a horse, buggy, and a sack lunch to inspect his new properties. He spent the better part of the morning wandering through the expanses of the first house, notebook and pencil in hand, carefully making notes for the contractor to work from. He enjoyed his lunch in the shade of a massive magnolia tree in the side yard.

By the time he had located and gone through the second house, taking notes and enjoying the freedom of the open countryside, the day was almost gone. The third house was another seven or eight miles farther up the road, and he decided, rather than waste another day in his pursuit of riches, he would continue, but would have to cut the last inspection short.

The first two floors of the third house were very much in the same state of discord as the others. He made token notes in his book, hoping the contractor would get the general idea of what was needed, but where the staircase passed from the second to third floors, he found a huge gaping hole. The steps had completely collapsed, and as the evening was growing dim, he decided that surely the contractor could work from his other notes. This was going to be major expense. Turning to leave, he discovered a long sturdy board which looked to be of a sufficient length to span the distance between the floors. Struggling beneath it's weight, young Luden managed to position it as a steeply sloping bridge, and in the
semi-darkness, was able to make his way to the top floor.

Quickly working his way down the long hallway, he opened the doors of each room in turn, making mental notes to transfer to his notebook later that night. In almost complete blackness now, he came to the last door, at the very end of the hallway.

It was, no doubt, the master bedroom, it's size alone giving it away. The room was completely empty except for a long dark shape underneath the window...what WAS it? A table?

(continued below)

Jun 23, 3:32pm: Striking a match by which to see, the chemist was almost struck breathless. Here, in the master's chambers, beneath the lone window, was a casket of the most elegantly polished black hardwood. He thought it odd that there was nary a speck of dust anywhere upon it, but he quickly forgot this when he noticed that the wood was inlaid with the most intricate decorations...of pure gold.

Within seconds, Luden realized that he was rich. The coffin alone would more than cover the purchase price of all three houses. Lighting one match after another, he inspected his prize with great care. Tomorrow, he would return for his treasure.

Suddenly, he thought of robbers and theives of the night...and so intense was his feeling of greed that he forgot the match in his hand until it burned his fingers. No...he must not take a chance on losing such a fortune...he must secure it tonight.

The casket was mounted on one of those heavy carts with wheels, and it was no problem to manuver it out of the room and pull it quickly down the hallway...(other than the constant need to replenish his light source). Upon reaching the end of the hallway, only then did he remember the board, and the missing stairs. Striking yet another match, he surveyed the situation for a few brief seconds before the match flame died away, leaving him in total darkness.

Reluctantly, Luden realized that he would never be able to get the coffin down to the ground without several good men and a wagon load of rope and rigging. He would simply have to leave the thing there, and return the following day. Yet he took comfort in the fact that no one could steal the treasure during the night.

Feeling with his fingers, he noticed that there were only two matches left...one with which to negotiate the board, and the last to light his way outside. Striking the first match, he turned for one last look at the gold reflecting in the light from the flame.

At that precise instant, the two front wheels on the cart collapsed, in part from the years of holding up the weight of the coffin, and in part from his mad dash down the hallway. Luden's eyes widened as he saw the casket, now tilting precariously forward, begin to slowly slide towards him. Once again, the match burned his fingers, and he shook his hand violently.

As he fumbled to strike his last match, his feet began to search frantically for the end of the board. When the flame finally sprang to life, he turned quickly and began his precarious, wobbly, tippy-toe journey down to the second floor. With a loud crash. the coffin slid completely off the cart, and glancing backwards in terror, he saw that it had perfectly balanced itself on the board with him, and was quickly gathering momentum down the slope.

The mind of the young man began to race. He doubted that the board would support the weight of both him AND the casket, especially once that weight reached the center of the board. Should the wood break, not only would the coffin smash itself to worthlessness below, but he would probably be killed in the process. Stumbling slightly, he felt the casket bump solidly into his leg on it's way downward, and he reached behind him in a futile effort to impede it's progress with his hand. That's when he felt the lid of the coffin move slightly, and begin to open of it's own accord...and he suddenly remembered the lack of dust on the lid.

As the final match blistered his fingers one last time, he let it go, and as he watched the glowing ember fall away into the nothingness below, he suddenly knew there was only one thing left to do.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cough drop, popped it into his mouth, and the coffin stopped.

Meyer

May 21, 1:22pm: (someone suggested that since it looked like I was in the midst of a spell of writer's block, I should bump this to the top of the blog)

I SAW THE LIGHT

I've been...away. I had to ride up to the north ridge...I've got a friend up there. She's an "older" woman, she lives alone, and I go up and check on her a few times each month.

After a really good home-cooked supper, and a good long set on the porch, I, as usual, offered to sleep in her barn. She, as usual, told me I certainly would NOT sleep in her barn. She put me on the sofa, got me an extra blanket to ward off the chill, tucked me in, and kissed my cheek...as usual.

Now...a few peculiars about one Antique Texas cowboy...

I simply cannot sleep in a pair of jeans, preferring, instead, to strip down to my long-handle underwear (which pair I happened to have on were stretched nearly twice their original size in the waist...hey, it's a guy thing).

Since Texas is hot during the day, and steamy at night, I tend to drink a lot of water. As a result, somewhere along about 2:30 or 3:00 in the morning, I wake up with a most powerful "urge".

And being born and raised "out-of-doors", when such an urge happens along, I much prefer to amble outside, under the stars, where I can just relax and let her fly, without worrying about trivial things like rememberin' to put the seat down. Besides, my aim is not so good any more.

Therefore, when I awoke on her sofa, in my long-handles, about 3 am, with one of those urges, I decided to leave the jeans where they lay, and ease outside in just my skivvies, hat, and boots.

And so it was, under a dark moon, that I found myself in the side yard, doing my business, whistling softly under my breath, when Honey, the old hound that sleeps endlessly under the porch, decided I was some alien creature come to drown the world. And as I was unsuccessfully trying to shush the baying, I heard the unmistakable click of twin hammers on a double barrel shotgun being eased back into the "you're in a heap of trouble, boy", position.

"Get your hands up, Mister"

Instinctively, I raised my right hand high over my head, at the same time realizing that in my left, I held about half of the stretched-out waistband of my underwear.

"BOTH hands...get `em up...or I'll fill your backside with buckshot. And turn around so I can see you."

A lot of things happened in the next few seconds. The dog stopped howling. I started to turn. I raised my left hand. The skivvies slid down to my ankles. I croaked out something about it being me, dear. I completed my turn. And she flipped on one of those huge flashlights, the kind that holds at least seventeen of those big batteries that just keep going and going and going.

Needless to say, I just stood there...fully illuminated.

I ended up staying two extra days, and what seemed like eight or nine extra nights. As I told you, she's an "older" woman, but only by a few years, and she's handsome as a thoroughbred mare.

I'm gonna be laid up a day or two...I got some tenderness in my...um...joints. Which reminds me...if anyone out there has some ointment or something that works good on sore cowboy parts, please let me know.

Meyer