Amazing Technology

 

Seawall Drummer

 

For some strange reason, I awoke this morning thinking of George Coleman, the man who who used to play steel drums on the Galveston seawall.  

He didn't play the sort of steel drums you might find in a typical steel drum band; his instrument of choice was 55 gallon oil drums that he "tuned" by putting dents and gouges in the sides with a hatchet.

He recorded one album, and if this works, you should be able to hear an example here - Innocent Little Doggy by George Coleman on Amazon Music - Amazon.com.

His musical career began in the 1940s and included everything from gigs with Sammy Davis Jr. to playing on the beach in Galveston, the streets of San Antonio and at exclusive parties in private homes and country clubs. He played for President John F. Kennedy at the Cellar, a club in Fort Worth, the night before Kennedy was assassinated. 

He almost had one hit when the BBC picked up one of the songs from his only album and played it repeatedly.

He was a truly unique musician, and some say the first Rap artist.  One thing for sure, old George sure couldn't sing.

Munchkins

 

When the Munchkins danced around Oz singing "Ding dong the witch is dead," it may not have been entirely appropriate, but you certainly understood where they were coming from.  

The trolls on social media who have been reveling in the death of Rush Limbaugh have carried things too far.  Otherwise decent people have posted their delight that El Rushbo is now burning in Hell where he belongs.  I doubt that there was this much glee when the news came that Hitler was dead in his bunker.

I can understand disagreeing with someone, even to the point of despising him, but this delight in his death is inexcusable.  It truly makes me embarrassed for you.

Nothing, None, Zilch

 

Got around to checking our rain gauge this morning, hoping to see the total precipitation we got in the past week - rain, sleet, snow, etc.

The total in the gauge was zero!  Absolutely none!  It was bone dry!

I did find a hairline crack at the base of the gauge.  The water in it apparently froze, cracking the gauge, and then all ran out once the temperature got above freezing.

Are We There Yet? Maybe

 The temperature dropped to 21 degrees overnight, but it's now in the mid 30s and everything is pretty much back to normal here at the Boggy Thicket.  We managed to make it through the cold snap without ever losing heat or water, and we don't have any broken pipes.

Unfortunately, that is not the case for thousands of homes in Texas including our next-door neighbor.  Once he had power and the water well kicked on, he discovered he had several broken pipes.  We hooked him up with a plumber, but it's going to be several days before everything can be fixed.

Honey and I almost began to feel guilty hearing about all the folks who were without lights and heat while we sat here safe and warm.  

We are beginning to see at least one benefit of growing older. While we were warm and dry, others were worrying about us.  Greg Bolan, who has been an across-the-street neighbor since he was a little kid over 40 years ago, showed up at our door yesterday with bread, bacon and a gallon of milk.  When I tried to pay him, he refused, saying "My mother told me to look out for you."

Light at the End of the Tunnel

 I'm not quite ready to say we're home free - out of the woods - yet, but we're getting close.  Thanks to our generator, we have been warm, and have kept our water on during the unprecedented weather Texas has experienced, but we were cutting it pretty close.

Yesterday morning, the lights went out again and the level in our propane tank was dropping below 20%.  Honey finally reached a live person at Entergy yesterday afternoon and apparently our outage was due to a line failure that nobody had reported because they assumed it was one of the "rolling blackouts" the power companies had been using to try the keep lights on as much as possible.  He assured her that they would get the problem fixed in the next few hours.

We had been checking our propane level every couple hours, and  sometime between 3 and 5 p.m. we got a delivery.  The driver did not do the fill-up I had requested (I guess they are rationing) but he did give us 100 gallons which took us back up to around 60%. Like Santa at Christmas, we didn't see or hear him, but he left us a marvelous gift.

When I brought the delivery ticket into the kitchen, Honey literally danced for joy.

It was almost an anticlimax, but the lights did come back on about 8 p.m.

Boggy Tundra

 This has been one Hell of a week, and we're not anywhere near out of it yet.  

Honey and I got our second Covid shots on Friday, and both of us had reactions to the vaccine.  Mine was very mild, but Honey ran a temperature and ached all over for about 36 hours.

We got over it just in time for the coldest weather of our lifetimes!  We didn't get nearly the amount of snow that was predicted, but we did get sleet and freezing rain, a tiny bit of snow and temperatures I had only experienced on training trips to St Paul, Minnesota.  

We've experienced temps that turned the old Boggy Thicket into frozen tundra, and just to make life more interesting, the lights have been out since Sunday!  

They came on for a few hours yesterday, and came back on about an hour ago, but there's no way to know if they're back on for good this time.

The whole-house generator we bought for hurricanes has served us well, but we have been trying for two days to get more propane delivered.  After leaving voice mail messages and email for two days, I finally went to the propane place and caught the guy who normally delivers to our house filling up his truck.  He told me that they are getting between 200 and 250 calls a day, and that he was only delivering to people whose tanks were below 5%!  I even tried playing the age card- telling him we were both in our 70s didn't make a dent. He assured me that with our tank just under 30%, we should last until he can can get here in another day or so.

If the lights will just stay on this time, he might be right.

15 Years

 

Our beloved daughter Shanna lost her fight with breast cancer and left this world on this day in 2006.  She left a space in our hearts and in our lives that we will never be able to refill.
Love you, Bumper, and I miss you.

A Shot of Hope

 

Honey and I were at NRG Stadium this morning for our second Corona Virus shot.  It was much more crowded with much longer lines than when we got our first dose in January - not sure why, since the original appointment set date and time for both doses.

Still it went off without a hitch, and we were in and out in just over an hour.  Memorial Hermann did an outstanding job.

It's Back

Fifteen years ago, when our daughter lost her battle with breast cancer, our across-the-street neighbors gave us a saucer magnolia to plant in Shanna's memory.

That little bush has been through Hell, and we almost lost it a couple of times- (boggy thicket: Shanna’s Bush) but it keeps hanging in there.  Today it is blooming again.

Matter of Taste

 I like beef, pork, chicken and just about any sort of seafood.  I've also been know to eat duck, goose, squirrel, venison, armadillo and even rattlesnake.  After consuming several cervezas, I once tried cabrito from a roadside vendor in Ciudad Acuna, and decided it was all right.

I have never eaten mutton, and have no plans to try it.  

I never did, but my decision was underscored by an experience Honey had many years ago.  She was eating lunch in the hospital cafeteria, took one bite of her chop and took it back to the serving line.

"This pork chop is spoiled." she said, "It tastes rancid."

The lady behind the counter said, "That isn't pork - it's lamb."

Robins

 For the past week or so, Robins have been as thick as fleas on a stray pup here at the Boggy Thicket.  Apparently, we're not unique - the Birds of Texas group on Facebook has reports from all over South Texas mentioning larger than normal flocks, first seen in years, etc.

And forget that "first Robin of Spring" nonsense.  Here at the Boggy Thicket, Robins show up in the dead of Winter - late January or early February, and are long gone by Easter.

2/2/21