Just a regular roast beef sandwich, please

I had lunch at Arby's in Conway, Arkansas yesterday. I like beef; I like Arby's. I'm a fan of the roast beef and cheddar sandwich (with bacon, sometimes). I'd had breakfast yesterday, which is unusual, so I wasn't terribly hungry. My plan was simple: Order regular roast beef sandwich, drink bottle of water in van, return to work.

I visited the Arby's -- a brand new facility in a strip mall. My cashier was Ed, a developmentally disabled adult.

Ed: Hello, welcome to Arby's, my name is Edward. People call me Ed. They say Ed is cooler than Edward. Can I take your order?
Me: Yes, thank you Ed, I'd like a regular roast beef sandwich to go, please.
Ed: Yes sir, that'll be a regular roast-beef sandwich. Are you working today? Would you like some fries with that?
Me: Yeah, I'm working today -- right down the road.
Ed: Great! So, that's a regular roast beef sandwich with fries. You wanted curly fries, right? How 'bout a drink? So, are you from out of town?
Me: Yes, I'm from out of town. I've got some water in the van.
Ed: So, that's a large roast-beef combo with curly fries. That's a nice phone -- does it take pictures? Would you like a cherry turnover with your meal?
Me: No, uh, yeah, it's a picture phone. I take lots of pictures.
Ed: Wonderful, that's really neat. So that's a large roast beef combo with curly fries and a cherry turnover. Your total is $7.71.

To summarize: I wanted a regular roast beef sandwich -- that's all. I ended up with a large roast beef sandwich, curly fries, a drink, and a cherry pie/turnover thing.

Someone is teaching Ed the delicate art of up-selling -- and he's learning well.

One might speculate that Ed was exploiting my reluctance to challenge him due to his developmental disability to sell me more food. If that is the case, Ed is pretty sharp. I won't go there.

Technorati Tags:Arby's, developmental disability, Conway, AR, roast beef

Amazing, Amazing, Amazing...

"Amazing. Amazing. Amazing." That's all I could say tonight as I dined at Mike's Place in Conway, Arkansas. I sent out a broadcast text message to my friends saying just that, "Amazing, it's worth the drive just to eat here." It's four and a half hours from home. I could easily justify that.

The decor is pretty neat; nothing terribly eclectic. Very warm, lots of wood, brick, and some traditional paintings on the walls. There were some romantic niches, and some open banqueting areas. On the whole, the place could best be described as "cavernous". The place is FREAKIN HUGE. I couldn't believe it when I walked inside. They were packed; on a Tuesday night; huge restaurant; barely any tables. They stuck me in a back corner and I was glad to have a chair.

The service was excellent. My waiter, Josh, is 30 years old and is from Conway. He's been working at the restaurant since it opened. The same company that owns Mike's Place is opening another restaurant, more directly Italian themed, and Josh will be the General Manager there, he said. He was attentive, polite, knowledgeable, and stayed out of the way unless I needed something. There were a few times when my water glass became empty and stayed that way longer than I would have liked (I'm a heavy drinker when I eat, you know), but he was serving several tables and it wasn't a big deal. I can't stress enough how confident and excellent the service was.

I had, as an appetizer, their "Shrimp and Cheese Fritters". They surely must have been made in-house. I can't imagine a prepared food company supplying something like that. Amerigo (the chain Italian place) has something similar, but not the same. These were a bit spicy, full of good, smooth cheese, and the shrimp added that "little something extra".

For my main course, Josh recommended that I try a platter -- which allowed me to pick two of the regular entrées (smaller portions) and two of their side dishes which they call "lagniappe". Lagniappe means "an unexpected gift" or a "little more" in Louisiana French. I chose the Crawfish and Shrimp Étouffée and the Blackened Chicken Alfradeaux with Red Peppers. As my sides I had Red Beans and Rice and some Sweet Potato Fries. The Étouffée was excellent -- plenty of flavor and taste, but not too spicy (some people like it spicy, I don't). The pasta was very good, chicken well flavored, good pasta. The beans and rice were also excellent. The Sweet Potato Fries were a bit disappointing, but I didn't know what to expect. It may have been that I was eating highly flavored food and the sweet fries just couldn't compete with the onslaught of other tastes in my mouth. Oh, and the "small portions" were HUGE.

It was obvious that almost none of the food came from a prepared food vendor (or if it did, it was very high quality). It appeared that the dishes had been prepared on site and to exacting standards. The quality of the food, again, was EXCEPTIONAL.

My bill, tax and all, was $26.44.

The only mistake I made today was eating lunch, I couldn't even think about dessert.

I've eaten at some great places; five-star restaurants and holes-in-the-wall. This is far and away the most amazing random restaurant into which I've ever stumbled. It is WORTH THE DRIVE to Conway, Arkansas to eat at Mike's Place. If you can find a play or a concert, go for it, but don't wait -- make some plans now to dine with these guys.

Technorati Tags:Mike's Place, Conway, AR, Arkansas, Food, Dining

"Thinning hair"

I went to a dinner party a few months ago and noticed in some of the pictures (most of the pictures were embarrassing) that my bald spot is spreading. Yes. I have a receding hairline -- and I think that's sexy an a bit distinguished. The bald spot bothers me. I'm not terribly self-concious about ANYTHING -- you know that, but this isn't the first picture that the spot has jumped out at me.

Probably three years ago -- at the lake -- Tori first pointed out my thinning spot; Patrick and I were comparing hairlines (he's known as "the human forehead" in some circles) and Tori said, "Oooo, look, Nathan's got a bald spot." I thought nothing of it -- it was early in the morning and none of us had showered or primped (we never did on lake mornings). I figured it was just the way my hair was laying that morning. Somewhere in the last few years it's grown.

I asked the lady who cuts my hair about it a few weeks ago -- had she noticed it. "Yes, Nathan, you've always had fine thick hair, but there is a 'weak' spot developing." I asked my Mom about it -- why hadn't she told me, "I thought you knew," she said, "and besides, both your grandfathers were bald by their early thirties." EGAD! Early thirties! Bald Spot! Why didn't someone tell me!!!!!!

I give up
Originally uploaded by churl.

So, I was talking with a friend of mine the other day -- as she was spiking my hair, I think -- and I asked HER about the bald spot. "Yes, Nathan, it's there." She giggled -- not about the bald spot, hopefully, but because she was about to make me look like a punk-wanna-be or something. "What am I to do?" I asked. "You could shave your head -- or get some Rogaine."

Alright. That's an answer I can live with. I like to fix things. If I have a flat tire, I patch it with fix-a-flat or get a new tire. If I have an itch, I put some cream on it. If I have a bald spot, I can smear some foam on it. I mentioned it to my parents, "I'd like some Rogaine (and a tandem bicycle) for my birthday."

Tonight, before I left the house, my mother gave me some Rogaine foam in a sack, "Here son, I got this for you." My cousin Jimmy shared an uplifting joke before I walked out the door:

Son, people say a men whose hair is thinning up front are great THINKERS. You know men whose hair is thinning in back are great LOVERS. If it's thinning in front and in back it means you THINK you're a great LOVER.

He cackled. I smirked. I'm thinning in the back; draw your own conclusions.

I'm going to make my first application to my "warm dry scalp" tonight before bed. I'll let you know.

Technorati Tags:bald spot, Rogaine, thinning hair

Autoharps and "music"

My cousin James W. Harrison ("Jimmy") brought me an Autoharp a month or two ago. I'd told him that I wanted to learn to play the guitar so he brought TWO guitars and this handy little rhythm instrument made my Oscar Schmidt.

I've not mastered the guitar yet. I'm working on it -- not nearly hard enough, probably. The Autoharp, however, is a dream to play. I think knowing something about music if helpful -- chords and such, but I suspect anyone could learn given the time. Mother Maybelle Carter is the best known player, I think, but there are many more.

So, I'm playing the thing fairly regularly. I copied some pages from one of Lindsay's bluegrass books and can play all of them. I've got some Hank Williams, Sr. books that are lots of fun.

My reviews, however, are mixed. Justin says I'm doing great (and that makes me feel good). The few times I've played for my parents, they just want me to sing along -- I don't think they know the songs. Lindsay just laughs (which hurts a bit, I think, but maybe she's laughing for joy at my talent -- yeah, that's it).

Here's a rough sample... What do you think? (Just hit the play button.)

Justin and I have played in church once and just messed around with the AutoHarp and Piano a few times. I'd like to get a string band of some sort together. I need a guitar player and a banjo picker. I think the undertaker from Rutherford would probably play upright bass, if I asked him. Lindsay doesn't seem very receptive to fiddle playing, but perhaps someone (other than me) could work on her.

I'd never heard of an Autoharp (or at least thought of one more than a second) before seeing the movie Walk The Line. What are/were your impressions? Lots of people seem to think it's an instrument for grade-school teachers (and I know several that do play), but isn't really a serious instrument.

Technorati Tags:autoharp, bluegrass, music, recordings, Angel Band

She doesn't deserve you

I was in the midst of a conversation tonight where one friend said to another, among other things, "She doesn't deserve you." It was a funny conversation, filled with expletives not appropriate for this venue, but it got me to thinking about that statement.

"She doesn't deserve you"

So, is that a good things -- as in, "You're too good for her, she doesn't deserve you"? That's a positive and uplifting statement meant to make the man or woman feel good himself or herself.

Or, is it a bad thing, as in, "You're crazy nuts, she doesn't deserve [someone like] you"? That's funny -- honesty from one friend to another.

That makes me think of the quote form Oliver Wendell Holmes from his work The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table:

Don't flatter yourself that friendship authorizes you to say disagreeable things to your intimates. The nearer you come into relation with a person, the more necessary do tact and courtesy become. Except in cases of necessity, which are rare, leave your friend to learn unpleasant things from his enemies; they are ready enough to tell them.

Of course, later in the conversation, I heard, "You deserve better." Which clarified the conversation a bit. I laughed inside; I thought it best to keep my thoughts to myself.

Technorati Tags:relationships, romance, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., truth

More on "Wagon Wheel"

I know I've already blogged today, but I was reading a bit about Old Crow and found this link to a recent blog about the song "Wagon Wheel" released by Old Crow.

Talking with Tim and Chad (who I mentioned in my previous entry today) about the song last night, none of us could remember the story behind the song. We knew that Old Crow had most recently made the song famous, but we also knew that in fact, it was a cover of someone else's song. Chad was convinced that it was Alison Kraus and Tim agreed with him -- probably to get him to shut up. I knew that wasn't right, but I couldn't remember the story. Now, thanks to the miracle of the interweb, we find the true story on the Nine Bullets blog. Yeah. It's a Bob Dylan song which he never completed for a move I've never seen. Oh well....

The neatest thing about that link, though, is that they're offering several different versions of the song for download. If you'd like a copy of these different versions and can't download for some reason, let me know. I'll divshare them to you... Cool beans!

Technorati Tags:Old Crow Medicine Show, Music, Bob Dylan

"Wagon Wheel" and Destin Nights

My day has become pretty standard: I sleep until around 11, hit the beach at about noon, return to the condo at about 3, eat supper around 5:30 and I'm at the Village (clubs) by 9:15 or so.

My favorite hangout has been Mango's Paradise Grille, a neat little outdoor cantina at "the Village". They've got live music each night and the brew selection is outstanding. I've managed to make it through all the drafts and I'm working my way through the bottles now. I'm hoping to have sampled their entire menu by the time I leave. The wait staff their is friendly, the owner is great, and the crowd is as diverse as I could imagine.

My bartenders since Sunday have either been Haley or Charles (click the pic to the left for a larger one). Haley is from Auburn, Alabama, Charles is from everywhere, apparently. They're engaged to be married, have a neat little condo not far from here, and work two or three jobs each. Haley and Charles love the Destin life. I dunno if I could put up with a bunch of tourist drunks 7 days a week, but they seem to be just fine. It's probably a personality thing that I just don't have; after about 7 hours, I had little patience for drunk buttholes when I was on Beale Street.

The owner of the place is a guy named Keith and his wife, Shelly. I met them last year when the place first opened. Keith owns some sort of steel fabricating place in Atlanta, but he and Shelly's dream was to open a restaurant and bar on the beach -- last year they made it a reality. I think Keith's main motivation, in addition to making his wife happy, was to find a place they'd let him sing anytime he wanted. I found out this week that the guy is an amazing vocalist.

Along the way I've met some other interesting folks. You're not surprised, if you know me, I'm sure:

Dwayne: The 29 year old Australian Spa Consultant. Dwayne travels the world consulting at 5 star spas and resorts. He and I got into some pretty great trouble the other night after we left Mango's. Remind me to tell you about it. Not quite the highlight of my trip, but it was certainly a great boost for the evening.

Justin: 30 something Navy guy -- he's taking a bomb disposal class at Pensacola Naval Air Station. He's been all over the middle east and has got some serious stories to tell. He was most interested in talking to me, however, about the "Purple Church" in Memphis. He was really bummed out to hear that it had closed. We swapped some stories.

Tina and Shelia: Mother and daughter. As Shelia said, "Mom bought a pair and so did I!" Tina likes to dance. Shelia likes to dance. We got along well. Shelia's tube-top made things interesting -- and she had one of those pony-tails that sticks out the back of her cap which I think are so cute. I wish I had a picture (oh how I wish I had a picture!). Tina kept grabbing my butt. That was strange and slightly unnerving.

Jerry: 70 something year old real-estate investment guy -- he was with Tina, but seemed more interested in Shelia. Me too. He's got property all up and down the gulf-coast. I bet I know what Tina sees in him.

Paula: The 25 year old "Turtle Girl" from FSU. She was coming up the beach on Tuesday with probes and shovels and all sort of stuff. I didn't know if she was trying to set up a beach volley-ball course or set up a landing field for aliens. I discovered, on asking, that she was doing sea-turtle research for the Master's Degree. Fascinating, really. We spent several minutes talking about sea-turtles... Amazingly, she showed up again yesterday, but now she was taking in the beach as a tourist. I didn't know it was her until she came over to talk again. We met up at Mango's and then went dancing like rhythm-less white people. She had too much "mango tea". 'Nuff said.

This list doesn't include Chad B, "the executive" from Anniston, AL, who's here apparently to debauch under-age women. He works at GameStop as a manager of some sort He says he's NOT a redneck, but I find that hard to believe. Nor does the above list include Tamara, who is here a few days early for a Porn Star Convention. She doesn't look like an actress, but some of her friends do. Maybe she's the producer or something.

Tim, the guitar player, and his wife have performed at two of the places I've been hanging out (Mango's and Fat Tuesday). They played "Wagon Wheel" by Old Crow last night. I thought I was gonna die -- I danced with a lovely young lady from NC 'cause I noticed she was singing too.. :) Both the girl from NC and Tim the musician were incredibly jealous that I saw Old Crow a few weeks back.

There are more strange folks to document.. perhaps I'll get around to it.

I'm headed back to the beach in a few -- gonna try to even out my burn/tan. Call me! I'd love to hear from you, I'm sure!

Update: I've written More on Wagon Wheel

Technorati Tags:Destin, FL, Florida, Destin, Mango's Paradise Grille, Women, Relationships, Vacation, Bars, Sandestin, Old Crow Medicine Show

I'm an Australian!

Sandestin's Village at Baytowne Wharf
Originally uploaded by chiacomo.

I'm not a beach fan, really. The sun is fine, but I'm fair skinned. The sand is fine, but it gets in all my shoes. I like the night life; I like to boogie.

For years, there's been little to do after dark except to wander the beach looking for "friends". Now, thanks to the miracle of modern development, one can party and "club" into the wee hours of the morning at Sandestin's "Village at Baytowne Wharf". There are 4 GREAT nightclubs and at least one good neighborhood bar (where folks remember your name). All this little country boy has to do is board the free tram and cross the highway and I'm set to go.

Tonight I met the nicest guy from Australia named Dwayne. He was friendly enough, has a neat job and stuff. The BEST thing about Dwayne, though, is that he's from Australia. WOMEN LOVE GUYS WITH FUNNY ACCENTS. I won't go into details, but I'll say that I don't mind being lumped into the Australian crowd at the clubs at Baytowne Wharf. It was the funniest thing; 19 and 21 year old coeds kept screaming, "They're from Australia!!!!" Of course, being the gentleman that I am, I kept stressing that HE was an Aussie, but I was from Tennessee. Even with my carefully cultivated Tennessee drawl, they didn't seem to notice. Apparently, for tonight, I TOO was from Australia. My new nationality served me well. She was 21, I swear.

Technorati Tags:Destin, FL, Women, bars, Sandestin

Love in the 21st century

Love spelt on keyboard
Originally uploaded by Kevin White Images.

The other day a friend was telling me that her boyfriend was on a mission trip abroad. She asked me, "Do you think he'll be able to text me from there?" She asked me this over an instant messenger (Yahoo, I think, but I use Pidgin/GaIM to aggregate all my IM services) -- I almost always communicate with this friend via email or instant message.

I told her I was unsure -- she'd just have to wait and see. This got me to thinking about my relationships over the last five years and how much of those relationships was conducted "online" or via text message or even telephone, and not in person or through regular mail. I realized that LOTS of my "romantic communication" was conducted via new-fangled technological means. I've flirted on MySpace, wooed over instant messenger, and teased via text message. I've sent online greeting cards and written poetry on web-pages.

In the old days people courted in person. Your beau might show up at the house on a Sunday afternoon (because he worked the rest of the week) and sit with you and your family in your parlor or kitchen. If you were lucky, Ma and Pa might allow you some time alone with him. As the years moved on, young people went to movies and dances. I'm sure the telephone was a boon to lovestruck boys as they whispered fervently across the line to a swooning sweetie. I know I've spent hours on the phone with women and realized that we talked about absolutely nothing -- and I can still smile about it.

There was a time, before instant messages and cell-phone texts, when people sent love letters and notes. Sometimes it took days or even weeks to receive a perfumed letter, all the while the sender wondering how it might be received. Now, we can know within minutes or even seconds how our flirtings or expressions of affection are received; we can adapt and respond just as quickly.

We're probably much more cautious, in a way, these days. As a male, I know I constantly try to adapt to the mood of a woman, whether in person or online. Women are cagey creatures whose thoughts are veiled to men. Where once I might write a flowing missive pouring out adoration, I now write short quips, trying to gauge if she's receptive to my advances. Were you to write me a passionate message, pouring your soul into an emotional email, who knows how long it would take me to click "Forward" and send it on to my buddies -- especially if I weren't receptive to your advances. (Know, ladies, that I would never do that, of course, but some would and have -- I've gotten such forwards and so have you.)

I read a blog the other day of a guy living in Memphis who met a girl in January and was engaged at the end of April. That's FAST to me. I know social mores and expectations have changed and there's nothing wrong with that, but, reading in his blog how he texted and emailed and waited on the "beep-beep-beep" indicating a new message, I wonder how fast his courtship was accelerated due to technology. Would she be wearing a diamond engagement ring if he had plied his troth so quickly sixty years ago?

Have we lost something due to the immediacy of communication? I don't know. I know that I have written long and passionate letters and actually mailed them and they're almost always well-received. Has "courtship" been hastened through the use of instant messages and email? I don't know, but I've certainly been turned down before I ever had the chance to open my mouth in person.

Technorati Tags:love, relationships, new technology, email

Fashion for geeks, thanks women-folk!

I've got lots of women in my life -- I get lots of fashion advice, advice about how to act, what to wear. I'm pretty luck. The other morning, I had a long conversation with Marilyn and Judy in our office. I had lost some weight and Judy knew that. I asked about pants and how I generally didn't like the pants I was wearing because they weren't cuffed.

I always wear cuffed pants, but Judy said, "You shouldn't wear cuffed pants." Cuffs are out and pleats are out, apparently. You know, all of my pants are pleated, except for maybe two pair. I guess I like pleats 'cause my dad has always worn pleats. That's what they bought me when I was young. Old habits are hard to break.

Flat fronted pants -- they're a new thing for me. I need to check that out.

I've got women in my life that help me with my "fashion". Some of them are older women, like Judy and Marilyn and my mother. Some of them are younger women, like Liz, who told me last year to "loosen up". I started with untucking my shirt and wearing tennis shoes. Now I've even got a woven belt with no loops -- it's like a strap around my waist. It's not leather, it's simpe cloth.I like it. I've also got some flip-flops (or "thongs" as the Europeans" call them). Flip flops are a big step for me, you know.

Some of these women are older, huggable women. Some of these women are foks I cuddle with; some are folks I'd like to cuddle with. I have an interesting life with so many women trying to help me.

I found a website the other day, which I've shared with some of you, called "Fashion for Nerds". My women-folk aren't wrong, according to this website.

What other advice can you give me?





Technorati Tags: fashion, geeks, personal

New office manager - with dragonfly

We have a new office manager. I've known her for several years; she used to work for one of our customers. She's been of about a year and a half. They expect her to be "tough" on us, but we'll see. She's very sweet, very competent, etc etc... Our customers appear to like her so far.

She also makes me "as nervous as a cat". She's trying to catch on so very quickly. Trying to corral me -- which is part of her job, I'm told. Trying to understand how I work and how to interpret what I say. She's been asking for explanations of the processes which are my job; the paperwork, the way to handle my callers and certain customers. I'm glad to share all that, of course, but I'm also trying to wrap up like a THOUSAND loose ends before I leave for Destin on Sunday. So, I'm fidgety and trying to get lots done and she's trying to work. It'll work out and I'm not unhappy.

Judy wore the neatest blouse (or shirt, according to Adrienne) today. It had an embroidered dragonfly on the upper left quadrant. I thought at first that it was a brooch, but it's actually part of the shirt. She bought it at the Kellwood outlet, she said.

Dragonflies are said to represent new light and joy. Some cultures, however, view them as evil or sinister things -- the "devil's needle" or "ear cutter" -- and are linked to injury. I prefer to focus on the positive symbolism -- some Native American tribes say they represent swiftness and activity. Some tribes see them as a symbol of renewal after a time of hardship. The Japanese see courage, happiness and strength.

I just thought it was a neat shirt (or blouse) or whatever.




Technorati Tags: office, work, dragonfly, change

"Scary Jesus" is gone!

Those of you who have traveled with me, or by yourself, between Humboldt and Bells (perhaps on your way to Memphis) may remember passing this lovely yard ornament affectionately known among my circle of friends and acquaintances as "Scary Jesus". A local landowner, presumably in the spirit of roadside evangelism, created a welded-metal depiction of a crucified Jesus. With its exposed metal ribs and rust arms hanging from the cross, it was truly disturbing (especially on seeing it the first time). Some comic relief was provided by the kneeling cowboy and horse silhouette beneath the cross.



I remember the first time Lindsay saw it while we were traveling to Memphis in November 2006. She said, "What the hell is that?" Of course, I immediately stopped and turned around so she could get a better look. Since then she's warned me sternly not to slow down.



In the past few months it appears that someone has begun construction on what seems to be a church on the site. A new building was erected behind and to the right of Scary Jesus. It seems to be a metal frame building. Lots of earth work has been done (perhaps to prepare a parking lot).



I passed by the lot Friday last week and notice that SCARY JESUS IS GONE. No, Scary Jesus didn't climb down from the cross. The whole tableau is missing: no cross, no Jesus, no kneeling cowboy and horse. I'm hoping Scary Jesus will be back; it's certainly a conversation starter (and sometimes stopper).



The small pictures here don't really do it justice. Click the pic for a larger version.





Technorati Tags: scary jesus, jesus, evangelism, yard ornament

Feeling blue

I'm feeling a bit blue. I want nothing more than to do a certain thing, but I know I musn't. It wouldn't matter anyway. What I imagine the truth to be and the real, honest truth are two different things. I am weak. I am weak even to be writing this, but I feel like writing, so I am.



In my head I am making plans; plans that won't work out the way I imagine. I know, even thinking about them, that they'll never happen as I imagine. Imagination is an amazing thing. Fantasy is a release, but the reality following fantasy is a drag.



Why should I waste my emotional energy? I don't know. I know only that I am. I wish I could snap my fingers and make it go away. Time. Time. Time. That's what it'll take. I don't know if I'm strong enough to wait.





Technorati Tags: relationships, fantasy, blue, dumb

New flops

New flops

Originally uploaded by chiacomo.

On Lindsay's recommendation, with advice from Adrienne (she said I needed "substantial man flops"), and some in-store guidance from Sara,

I purchased my first pair of flip-flops, ever. I remember wearing a pair of flip-flops when I was very young, I think they had a picture of Snoopy the Dog on them, but I have no idea where they are and I know they wouldn't fit.



Those of you who know me well will remember that I have a thing about my feet. The standard story is that when I was very young my father used to sit me on the side of the road and that people would stop as they passed saying, "Oh my! Look at that little boy with the ugly feet."



I wouldn't say that I have a complex, exactly, but I've always been self-conscious about my feet. Only my closest friends have previously seen my feet. Thanks to the influence of a certain person, however, I'm changing slowly. I'm becoming less conservative in my dress (see also the GREAT plaid shorts in this picture). I'm not tucking my shirt in when I'm not working... I dunno. Liz said last year that I needed to "loosen up". I'm trying Liz, I am, and I think I'm enjoying it.



I don't like feet in general. I like Adrienne's feet and Lindsay's, but I'm not too fond of most people's feet. I don't think I'm gonna get over my "foot thing" any time soon.



So, should I buy some more flops or should I ditch these suckers and hide them?





Technorati Tags: flip-flops, fashion, shoes, change

That damned liberal girlfriend

I had an opportunity to speak with state Representative Chris Crider (Republican) at the Governor's Luncheon in Humboldt on Friday. I know Chris pretty well, we talk from time to time about local politics, projects on which the city is working, and just gossip. We're not personally close, but we're friendly. It's always fun to talk to him.

I'd been "working the room" as my aunt says and I found Chris at the head table. I wanted to say hello, but I also had a serious question or two to ask, so I made sure to seek him out. He saw me and smiled as I walked onto the dais. He stuck out his hand, gave me a firm handshake, and grabbed my shoulder. Suddenly he looked sort of frightened -- almost hiding behind me as he glanced around.

I thought perhaps something was happening behind me -- something I might need to worry about or someone I needed to avoid. I looked at Chris, concern in my eyes, and said, "What's wrong? Who are you looking for?"

"That damned liberal girlfriend of yours! Where is she?" he asked.

"She's not here and she's not my girlfriend... besides, she thinks you don't like her, especially after you dodged the two of us at the Chamber of Commerce Banquet," I replied and laughed as I said it.

Chris, looking relieved, laughed, "Yeah, I like her just fine -- I just don't know what to say to her. I can't talk to her."

Imagine! A politician, a friendly kind of guy who always has something to say to everyone rendered speechless by a twenty-three year old math teacher!



Technorati Tags: politics, chris crider, tennessee, relationships

A. Schwab's

A. Schwab's - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

A. Schwab's is the only remaining original business on Beale Street. Their motto is "If you can't find it at A. Schwab's, you don't need it!"

I visited "A. Scwab's" during the Beale Street Music Festival on Saturday. I've been going into Schwab's for a bout a decade now and the store hasn't changed much. The layout is still a shambles, the staff is still surly, and the merchandise is still a hodge-podge of touristy kitche and stuff that might belong in a 1920s dry goods store.

They claim to be a dry goods store but the only non-tourist stuff I picked up on right away was a set of ancient looking water pumps (you know the kind with the handle).

We did notice a huge collection of dried voodoo ingredients in the back of the store; I suppose those might qualify as "dry goods".

Schwab's truly is a landmark. It's unusual to find any business owned by the same person or family on Beale Street for more than a decade. If you have the chance, I recommend dropping by. They're open only during the day, though, so night-owls are left out.

Technorati tags: memphis travel a+schwab's dry+goods store tourist Beale+Street

Business cards -- wow!

P1010275

Originally uploaded by dailypoetics.

I've really enjoyed looking through these different business cards. It's amazing how creative people are with disposable bits of paper.

I like this one, especially, 'cause it has Matt's name on it.

My own business cards are pretty austere by these standards. They simply have my name, our company logo, and the logo of one of our major product lines. The cards is well made, though. High quality paper, raised lettering, vivid colors. I was tickled to pink when I realized I could put anything I wanted on it. I finally chose to put NO title. Just let folks figure out what I am and what I am not.

Over the years, I've had calling cards printed up. These are basically cards with my name, address, sometimes telephone number, and in the last decade or so, my email address and website. They're super handy at parties and many people are absolutely charmed by them.

Here in the south, calling cards can be handy when you drop by someone's house unannounced and find them not home. Wedge a calling card in the door and they'll know you dropped by.


Technorati Tags: business cards, relationships, business, photography, flickr

Stop Sending Those “Don’t Buy Gas” Emails

Stop Sending Those “Don’t Buy Gas” Emails

The first (and most obvious) reason is you are simply delaying the purchase of the gasoline you need; we’re not actually decreasing the demand for gas (which might bring the prices down), we’re just shifting the demand to another day in the very near future.

I have forwarded similar emails in the past; it just makes sense that the big fuel companies would notice if everyone stopped buying gas on one day. In fact, they probably won't. They KNOW we're gonna need their product again very soon. Until America decreases its reliance on foreign fossil fuels we'll always be essentially at the mercy of big oil. I don't see myself changing my driving habits any time soon, do you?





Technorati Tags: fuel prices, gas, email, forwards, glurge

My ego?

I am a persuasive person. I have always managed to sell stuff -- merchandise, ideas, myself, whatever. I have a large and powerful ego to which people seem to respond. I have convinced myself that I am better than average, that I am a likable and reasonably good looking guy -- and that since I believe these things, others do too. I think I can do something, therefore I can. I am convinced that I can talk a person into anything, make a person believe anything (especially when it's the truth and I believe it), that given enough time and the right words (which have always seemed to be present in my mouth at the right time) I can do anything or have anything I want.

The whole paragraph above sounds terribly conceited -- and I'm not. I promise. I am fortunate (lucky?) and good with words and good with people generally. I am honest and straightforward and hide very little emotionally and people respond to that on a basic, primal level, usually.

I guess it's a function of my ego, or perhaps a breakdown somewhere along the way, that's been frustrating me so much lately. I've said the right words, behaved in the right way and I can't get what I want. My ego is wounded and I am hurt, I guess. It's a deep down kind of hurt that I can't shake -- like a broken leg or something. It will take some time to heal; I'll be bruised for a bit.

It's not that I always get what I want. On the contrary, I'm regularly disappointed. Sometimes people don't respond rationally, sometimes I fail to reach the mark. Often I simply quit trying. If the effort is turning out to be greater than the reward, I'll often quit midstream. Sometimes I wait a while and still get what I want. Sometimes I never do.

I can almost always rationalize my failures by, as I say, attributing them to other people's irrationality or my own laziness (but not to a lack of quality or skill on my part). Sometimes I realize I didn't want it as badly as I thought. Often my desire for something, an object or a goal, simply fades away.

So friends, forgive me if I'm being royal king-sh*t asshole. I'm not getting what I want and don't like it. You might try stroking my ego a bit; that never hurts.





Technorati Tags: ego, relationships, personality, desire, wants, success, failure

Why use "CC"?

Carbon copy - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The CC recipients are revealed to all recipients, and this may not be desirable, depending on the situation. An alternative field, BCC, or Blind Carbon Copy, is available for hidden notification. In common usage, To field recipients are the primary audience of the message, CC field recipients are others whom the author wishes to publicly inform of the message, and BCC field recipients are those surreptitiously being informed of the communication.

Obviously this is one of those topics that just popped into my head about 20 minutes ago. I got to wondering, in this day and age, why anyone would use a "CC:" field in an email. All popular mail clients and web-based email sites allow you to put scads of email addresses in the "To" field -- so, why would I every use a "CC"? A passable answer is found in the Wikipedia (the sum of all useful human knowledge). Apparently, recipients of CC'd messages aren't necessarily expected to reply; they're simply being notified. One might CC one's supervisor to make him aware of the message, but he's not expected to take action.



Interesting, huh?



I use BCC when sending forwards, of course. Lately, I've been BCC'ing people on messages that I didn't want the primary recipients (those in the "To:" box) to know I was communicating with. Apparently, I shouldn't be talking to certain people right now. Long story. I'm rambling. :)

Technorati Tags: email, BCC, CC, messaging, privacy

On this cool clear night

On this cool clear night
The moon is bright and I
Stand beneath the stars
Wondering if somewhere
You and your golden hair
Lay thinking or pondering o'er
Past or future, do you
Think of what might have been or be?
Do you remember or dream or
Do you perhaps even long just a little
For me?

- April, 2007