"Cool."

And they planned on bringing her bestest cousin along.

"Sweeeeet!"

And then the questions . . .

"How many days until they get here?!"

"Where's my suitcase?!?!"

"What am I gonna wear?!?!?!?!?"

They see each other once a year at most. Usually around the annual BeerGossipHorseshoeFest that is the family reunion. So a double dose of Aryn's favorite cousin is always a good thing.

They couldn't be more different. Robyn is a bean pole with attitude while Aryn is quiet and tentative . . . for the most part. But they both have a DS, love chocolate and fall asleep while talking.

And they started packing at least a week before departure.

I smile at all of this, remembering being just as pumped before a visit with my cousins from the Big D. Eddie is a year younger, Danny a year older. So, yeah, Eddie and I pretty much had a ball pestering the elder Stooge. We teased him mercilessly about his bright red hair, the way he stared into the mirror and coiffured the mess with Fonzie-like care using a big-handled comb that always stuck out of his back pocket. We'd listen to Dio's "The Last in Line" or some southern-fried rock tune so loud he couldn't hear Simon Le Bon squeak out "The Reflex." Or we'd tag team him and tangle him up in some wrestling move, pushing the limits of the springs in the fold out couch we used for the "square circle," making him whine for mercy, as Kerry Von Erick – The Modern Day Warrior! The Texas Tornado! – did the same to Nature Boy Ric Flair on late-night television.

But if I stuck around long enough we all ended up getting along fine. And we always went on the neatest adventures. Like the time we hopped in my aunt and uncle's carpeted and cozy conversion van and drove to Port Aransas, stopping along the way to indulge in every young boys dream sandwich, a double-meat Whataburger, with fries and root beer. We scoured the beach for seashells in which we could hear the gurgling of the Gulf. And tossed Fritos in the air and ducked with laughter as a flock of seagulls gracefully snatched our mid-afternoon offering out of the happiest bluest sky I'd ever seen. I saw my first real shark; a hammerhead strung up and gutted, reeled in by some bronze, barrel-armed fisherman.

While there, someone noticed my ingrown toenails. Kind of hard to hide forever the bloody and festering stumps that were my big toes back then. Especially on a beach, where shoes and socks made one look silly. Like a city boy. So, once safely back in the Big D, my aunt took me to the doctor and stood by as he made me cry like a girl. I nearly had the same affect on the poor nurse whose fingers I crushed during the procedure. I survived, however, and during my recovery – lots of sitting around with my feet propped up on pillows while eating Blue Bell ice cream – my aunt and I had plenty of time to catch up. She is the only sibling of my birth mother, who died of a blood clot just before my first birthday. My aunt went above and beyond to see that I spent time with her boys. And having me around perhaps felt a bit like having her sister back again, if only for a few brief moments. Both were school teachers. So making sure my letters home were grammatically correct came honestly for her. And during that week she took me to the circus, where we watched anxiously as a performer who had fallen off a trapeze had to be taken away for medical treatment.

The good and the bad all rolled into one amazing trip.

But the times I remember the best are of the simple things me and my cousins did. We hung out with the kids in the youth group of their mega-Baptist church. Once we all gathered in church vans and went on a progressive treasure hunt. I saw areas of the city common to the other kids but exciting for me in an "I've-never-been-here-before!" sense; everyday experiences brought to new life because the faces and the places were unfamiliar. Like the coin-operated laundry mat with tumbling blue jeans and tank tops and those big wire laundry carts which we decided worked better as prams. Or the afternoon we spent at Eddie's friend Joe Pat's house playing Defender for hours on his Atari console. Or the trip to the movie theater where we cheered from the edge of our seats as Rocky pummeled Clubber Lang. "Eye of the Tiger" may still be Eddie's favorite song ever.

Burying critically wounded green army men in backyard, only to disinter the ones we'd buried and forgotten after the last horrific battle. And the midnight chats on the couch discussing the moral implications of Journey's "Open Arms" or the graces and hang-ups of girls, a few of which we were just starting to notice for the first time.

We chatted ourselves to sleep.

Just like my daughter and her cousin Robyn.

Before Aryn left this morning I took her to Best Buy and bought my girl her very first digital camera. I don't want her to forget a single spray of Niagara Falls mist. Or the Cheshire-cat grin on her cousin's face as they invade and occupy some poor unsuspecting hotel for a few carefree days of summer.

These are memories that should last a lifetime . . .

(Yo! Cuz! We haven't been together since this picture was taken. Don't you think it's time . . . )

Interview with Bayhawk Ale’s Manager Karl Zappa:

OH: What have been the biggest difficulties with production and costs?
KZ:  Raw materials increases. The restaurant business is pretty flat right now and they are our biggest customers, Outback, Claim Jumper, and such. This is a showcase brewery and to grow our volume we need more production space we are running nearly at capacity of ten thousand barrels. Also, if we want to grow any sort of bottle business that will require more space.  3-6 percent of our business is currently in bottles, to grow more we have to produce larger than that.

OH: How do you sell the product?
KZ:  We work mostly with large restaurant chains because distributors are not interested in selling one barrel a month to bars.

OH: What are your goals for the brewery?
KZ: We are following the hundred-year plan, I want this brewery to be here in a hundred year and so that’s how I look at my relationships and the company. I am not here to grow super fast and then flip for a big paycheck. This brewery will continue to work on its craft and its way of life for its employees, customers, and consumers.

OH: Who are the stakeholders in the company?
KZ: This is a public company, it is one of the breweries that was owned and operated by Jim Bernau.

OH: How is the distributor environment?
KZ: We have used several different distributors in different states, including Wine Warehouse, Glazer’s, Authentic Beverage, and some others.

OH: How do the different states compare as far as ease to function as a brewery and do business?
KZ: Texas was the hardest to deal with and we have actually decided to pull out of Texas. The license is around four thousand just to run in the state while the licenses for other states such as Nevada are as low as fifty.  Also, Texas has a provision in their budgeting laws where if the state has a deficit they can raise permit fees on any of the businesses deemed “sin” business, which includes brewing. It is definitely one of the tougher beer markets and the regulations aren’t making it any easier. We currently operate in seven states, Hawaii, Oregon, Nevada, Arizona, Washington, and Illinois, of those Nevada and California have the best laws to support smaller breweries. California actually allows smaller brewers to act as their own distributors.

Karl and I spent a good two hours talking about his business and the industry environment in different states. The brewery is fully integrated into the “Pilsner Room” of McCormick and Schmick’s adding a great feel to the restaurant and bar. However, to grow the brewery is going to have to look into new facilities or contract brewing through another brewer. Many thanks to Karl and Bayhawk Ales to spending time with me and brewing great beer.

(Wer weis was gemeint ist, ist entweder Piercingträger oder hat ihn schon mal einem gestellt.)

...Aber wie es aussieht ist die Frage berechtigt. Eine Amerikanerin musste in Lubbock (Texas) bei der Sicherheitskontrolle auf dem Flughafen ihre beiden Brustpiercings mittels einer kleinen Zange abnehmen, da sie beim Sicherheitscheck den Alarm ausgelöst hatten.

Sie wurde hinter einen Vorhang geführt und hörte während sie die Piercings entfernte das Gelächter der Secuity Guards. "Es war eine totale Demütigung vor Leuten, die ich überhaupt nicht kenne", so die 37-Jährige.

Nun verlangt sie eine Entschuldigung von der US-Luftsicherheitsbehörde (nein, ausnamsweise kein GeldO.o) Die US-Luftsicherheitsbehörde TSA will jedoch noch nie davon gehört haben das Fluggäste derart kleine Gegenstände abnehmen mussten.

Tjaaaaa... Ich kann den Witz noch immer nicht leiden (untersteht euch) und kann nur sagen das ich auch schon mit meinen Piercings in ein Flugzeug gelassen wurde. Bei mir haben sie jedenfalls nicht gepiept.

Und die Moral von der Geschicht: Man sollte schon auf das Material des Schmuckes achten.

SVdL                                                                                         

Che dire, mi trovo bene, a parte qualche litigio con il Visual C++, neanche tanto con il C++ a dirla tutta, me la sono presa proprio con il Visual, sarà che è MS...

Cmq sia ritengo che l'ambiente di lavoro sia migliore di tutti gli altri luoghi in cui ho lavorato, bel posto, ottima compagnia.
Sono abbastanza soddisfatto, ora quando prenderò la prima paga, lo sarò pienamente.

La paga purtroppo non è adeguata secondo il mio parere, e non mi riferisco alla mia, ci mancherebbe. Fortunatamente però l'ufficio nel quale sono è:

• Pulito e al Chiuso (Oserei dire quasi "di Classe")
• Ho una scrivania tutta mia. (Sarebbe meglio dire avrò nella prossima settimana)
• Il mio pc è un Intel Dual-Core P4 con 2GB di ram e con uno schermo LCD da 19''. (Come tutti del resto)
• Per ora mangio gratis (poi pagherò 2-3 €)
• Entro alle 8:00 e finisco alle 17:00, ho il tempo per fare molto nel pomeriggio!
• Sabato a casa
• La compagnia in ufficio (sfortunatamente solo uomini) è ottima, tutti giovani (o giovanili), simpatica e disponibile.
• E' un gruppo molto unito.

Ovviamente si lavora anche,  e molto.
Inoltre oggi hanno/abbiamo anche dato due "festini" ...
Speriamo continui tutto bene.

Alla prossima

But Texans like the fact that they live in a state without pity.  This year saw the smallest number of executions in over ten years, but a full 60% of the executions that did take place were in Texas (26 of 42). This despite the fact that the death penalty is not imposed in more murder cases as a percentage than in other states and juries in Texas  are no more likely to impose the death penalty than in other states. The big difference is that in Texas, a death sentence means there is no right to life.  Zap. 

As a test, next time you have to go to the hospital stop by the medical staff office and ask these questions:
1) How many physicians have been involuntarily removed from the medical staff in the last 2 years?
2) How many physicians have been reported to the data bank in the last 2 years?
3) How many physicians have had privileges restricted in the last 2 years?
4) How many physicians have had their privileges "non-renewed" in the last 2 years?

I can tell you now that the answer to every question will probably be NONE. Now you have to ask your self: Is it possible that every single physician on this medical staff is really that good? Are the standards too low? Could it be both?

Every state in the US has a medical board that licenses physicians. Every state medical board has as the fundamental reason for existence the protection of the public. Take for instance this exerpt by Donald Patrick, MD, JD in my own state of Texas, in which he notes that the purpose of the board is "safeguarding the public through professional accountability." The state medical boards do not exist for the benefit of physicians. To his credit Dr. Patrick has begun disciplining physicians who fail to report misconduct. I think that's an excellent move.

Yet the study clearly indicates that state medical boards have poorly influenced the willingness of physicians to meet simple requirements of the law. It's a pity. I had higher expectations of my colleagues.

You must be in charge of your healthcare.

18 December 2004, Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. Today, I discovered through the photographs of Irving Penn the Dionysian principle among the Dahomey people of Africa. In Legba, guardian of household entrances, bestower of sexual potency, seventh- and youngest-born son of Mawu, divine trickster, temperamental messenger and linguist of the gods, we discover an elemental disruptive force, "the personification of philosophical accident, of the way out in a world ruled by destiny".

From Dahomey/Legba XI 1967: "Legba, the arch individualist, maybe thought of as the personification of the being who loves mischief, knows no inhibitions, recognizes no taboos, dares to challenge injustices, even on the part of the Creator, and to expose them..."

Legba is represented as a human figure made of red clay, with cowrie shells for eyes, giving it an appearance in-between a grinning Cheshire cat and a laughing Buddha. Often, it is stained with the blood of sacrificial animals or egg yolk, and sometimes portrayed with goatish horns or huge phalluses. The latter screams to mind the Greek satyr whom Nietzsche describes as "the offspring of a longing for the primitive and the natural... the archetype of man, the embodiment of his highest and most intense emotions, the ecstatic reveler... something sublime and divine". (The Birth of Tragedy)

Is it coincidental that these symbols of life, death, and fecundity intersect in this playful African figure of Legba, as well as in the Greek Dionysian spirit? Or is this principle at the core of all cultures, in the manner of Jung's archetypes buried in our collective unconscious--the primitive response to our primal encounter with Nature? Primitive and primal because it is a priori contemplation, before all science and philosophy.

For Nietzsche, knowledge will not do. Once we have looked into the essence of things, we can only react like Hamlet: nausea that inhibits action, "for... action cannot change anything in the eternal nature of things." Only art "knows how to turn these nauseous thoughts about the horror or absurdity of existence into notions with which one can live: these are the sublime as the artistic taming of the horrible, and the comic as the artistic discharge of the nausea of absurdity."

In so far as it quiets our fear of death, and allows us to come to terms with Nature, then art, and the aesthetic experience, serves somewhat as our form of Legba, our way out from the absurdities of life.