FarBucks

A Winning Bet for Mother's Day!

                        

My son and daughter-in-law invited Mommy Farr and me to join them for Mother's Day at the Lone Star Park Horse Races.  While that struck some of our friends as odd, it was a perfect fit for us.  (When Drew was little we would spend Mother's Day at Six Flags Over Texas because there were NO crowds.)  The Lone Star Park track is a five minute drive from our house, but we had never been before. 

The day started with a Five Star Mother's Day Lunch Buffet in the Silk Restaurant.  They start with eggs, omelets, the usual breakfast /brunch items.  As the day progresses along with the nine races, the offerings become more substantial with salmon, pork, prime rib, etc.  Toward late afternoon, it's cheese and crackers and desserts, desserts, desserts.  When you eat there, you end up spending the whole day there.  The restaurant is four stories up and enclosed in glass. Every table has a spectacular view of the whole track.  But (despite what it sounds like) the food wasn't really our focus.  We were busy being the ignorant, innocent newbies and asking all the predictably dumb questions..."what's the difference between Place and Show?"  "What's a Tri-Fecta?"

What no one else knew was that I had a secret going in my favor.  True to traditions of track lore and superstitions, I designated Erin's uncle Les, as my Good Luck Charm.  To my Contrarian Way of reasoning, his name LES meant we'd win MORE.  Besides that, he and I were the only two of the Thirteen Member Farr/Williams Family Entourage that looked like regular horse bettors:

                                 

It was fun watching everyone figure out what horse to bet on.  Erin had the right idea, she just laughed and had a good time throughout the afternoon, letting Drew place all their bets:

                                          

Martha studied the program closely - looking for colors.  She really looked like she knew what she was doing....and she even had a "system": If the horse's color was red or the jockey's color was pink, it had her bet:

                                     

I tried the "fake-em-out-approach".  I pretended I knew what I was doing and studied the stats closely...although if you look REAL CLOSE, you can see the remnants of the chocolate cake by my left hand that was my REAL focus.  (I took the E-Z way out and just bet the track's published favorites.)

                                          

But of course Baby Ethan had the best attitude..."What's the big deal, guys?  Just watch the pretty horsies run in a big circle!"

                      

It was fun watching the horses parade past the crowd, line up and load the starting gate.  The bugler did his thing, and there really IS something to be said for watching some events LIVE.  TV doesn't catch the whole essence - the noise, the smells, the vibrations as the ground shakes...

                            

                                       

We took a break between two of the races (there were 9 total) and decided to go down and watch the action in the paddock where the horses are held and prepped before each race.  As we walked towards the area, I became separated from the rest of the family and somehow ended up in the middle of a small group going through the Owner's Only Gate.  I looked up later to see the rest of the family waving and trying to discreetly tell me, "You are in the Owner's area...you cannot be there...get out!".  But hey, I was walking around with the jockeys, owners, I could pet the horses, and not a single security guard questioned me.  I guess I fit the profile of a Rich Horse Breeder - bearded, grey hair, paunchy...whatever.  I slowly made my way back out the gate and rejoined the family.  (Frankly, the only difference between the two areas that I noticed was that the General Public didn't get horse shit on their shoes.  I guess the owners don't mind it.)

               

                    

So how did we do?

Well, I paid for the $27 per person luncheon for Martha, Drew, Erin, and myself.  Then Martha and I placed bets.  I tried keeping a running comparison of wagers versus winnings, but I was visiting with others, playing with Ethan, eating, drinking, betting....I sorta lost track.  ("I lost track at the track"...there's a pun or country music lyric trying to break through there somewhere...)

All I know is, when we got home, I emptied my pockets and Martha emptied her purse and after we counted everything up, we had $200 more than we started with.  Folks who know about this sort of thing have been asking me all day if I'll take them with us next time Martha and I go to the track.

My answer?

You bet!

                                              

 

Arts Music Food & Fun!

...so the prettiest, smartest, best looking better half looks at me and says, "Let's take the train to the Fort Worth Main Street Arts Festival this Saturday!"

                                     

                        

She had me at "let's take the train..." And NOTHING sounded better after spending past weekends building/repairing weather-damaged fences, writing about drop-outs, trying to catch up on my professional readings, etc...

A chance to unwind and walk the streets of downtown Fort Worth browsing through the works of a variety of artists and works that defy description...we're talking paintings of dogs riding bicycles, kinetic art that throws marbles across a canvass, and museum quality carvings of incredible value (try one piece "The Story of Noah's Ark" for $380,000). We try to go every year, and we add one piece of art to the house (we try not to exceed 1/10,000th of the cost of Noah's Ark piece...). This year we purchased two works and I surprised Martha with an early Mother's Day gift of hand-crafted earrings unlike any I've seen before.

            

                                        

It's always fun to do something that keeps me grounded.  Life is serious enough.  Nothing is more rejuvenating, re-creational than taking time to walk in the sunlight, meet new people, listen to great music, and look at talented artists and their work.

The next time there's any kind of "event" near you, go.  An Arts Festival, a Blue Grass Festival, Hot Air Balloon Fest...go. Sit on the grass if you can.  Take off your shoes and feel the earth.

Oh...here's the REAL kicker.  Let go of the technology.  LET GO of the pagers, the cell phones, the PDAs, the laptops; instead of taking your Blueberry, have a bowl of Blueberries with some vanilla ice cream.  Leave the Palm Pilot at home and walk down the street with your significant other's palm in your's.  The world will NOT end if you can't be found for a few hours.  (Psssst...Hate to tell you this, but you are really not THAT important.) :)

I will negotiate on one piece of technology.  Cameras are ok.  And here's why...MEMORIES:

                     

                                    

The Crawfish Band...they performed in the morning as a taste-teaser for Dr. John, who performed that night.

                      

Professor D had the babies dancing in front of the stage and the over-50 crowd tapping their feet in their seats!

I'm sure I passed lots of celebrities...but the one who caught MY attention was the Honey Bunches of Oats spokes-lady from the TV commercials...

                              

                                 

We even found the last of the bluebonnet patches for a late-season picture.

In closing, it was a great weekend at the Festival...

OK, so maybe there was ONE MORE SMALL PIECE of TECHNOLOGY that came in handy later that afternoon...my Palm Pilot:

                                                   

Building Fences - Redux

It's fun to see how some things develop.  I started blogging as a PROFESSIONAL ACTIVITY.  I have written so many "academic posts", I've lost count.  And I will continue to write posts about educational issues - especially for Leadertalk and The Big Idea.  I have made several new friends through blogging, and been invited to some wonderful educational events that I never would have heard of if it were not for networking contacts made through blogs... is "blogtacts" a word?

But without question, the posts I receive the most interesting and enthusiastic feedback about are the ones in which I just write about family or current events.  Two of the posts I received the most feedback about (in person and through emails) are the one in which my dad is learning to play Wii, and the one about replacing my father-in-law's fence.

With that in mind, I suppose this is a sequel to the post about the fence.  I had not planned to write about fixin fences (now, THERE'S a very Texan term), but Mother Nature had something to say about the topic.  It all started last week about 3:30am...

When we woke up to a house with no power, we knew something had happened during the night.  I set out in search of my battery powered radio, my large lantern flashlight, and some candles.

[Note to self: check battery powered devices more than once-every-emergency.]

With no working battery-powered radio or flashlight, the candles became more important.  Just one problem...

[Note to self: candles don't work if you can't find matches.]

When we finally found some matches, we got dressed in the feeble light.  The next ordeal was how to get out of a garage that has an electric door opener.  Yes, we have the pull-chord, but once released, the door had a mind of its own.  It wanted to stay closed.  So I had to design a device that would hold the door open while we freed the cars.  Maybe it didn't look safe, but the arrangement I came up with involving two ladders, a 2x4, and bucket actually worked.

So on the way to school, I hear on the radio that the middle school just down the street from my campus has lost a portable building.  Turns out that was precisely the correct term, too...it was "lost" for awhile.

When the principal and responding crews stood in the still pitch black pre-dawn, all they could see was the empty slab:

                         

The building that had been sitting on this slab was no where to be seen.  Finally, the principal heard someone yelling, "Here it is! Over here!!"

Seems the portable did a Return-to-Oz trick and flew up and over part of the school and landed in a courtyard.  It didn't land too smoothly:

               

Witnesses later stated that the only thing missing were the red-striped leggings and pointy black witch shoes sticking out from under the debris.

It wasn't too long after I arrived in my office that my son sent my cellphone a MMS picture of his backyard:

             

I knew right away that Mother Nature had just made my weekend plans for me.

Sunday - 12 Noon.

By now, you may know that we have a very close family and no project is ever done: 1) without plenty of supervision, advice, consultation, criticism, and unrelenting razzing if you flub up; 2) without plenty of liquid refreshment; and 3) without an End-of-the-Project-Meal.  As the "senior" on site that day, I took the Supers'Chair and got into my role - totally.  And once again, as the Head Photo Guy, I am in none of the pictures proving that I really did help on this project.  You will just have to take my word for it when I say that other than Neal, David, Drew, and Ethan, I was the next hardest working man present.

                            

Under the watchful gaze of The Head Supervisor, Drew starts by digging up the first of three chunks of cement which once held the fence up.

            

It quickly becomes obvious that without a tractor to pull it out, a huge lever or block and tackle to pry it out, or some dynamite to blow it out - this chunk of concrete is not going to budge. And so began Consultative-Advice-and-Argument #1.  I suggested we just shift everything over, dig new holes, in fact, ADD a pole - make it four instead of three - for extra strength.  Son didn't like dad's idea.

Along comes Neal.  He arrives on the scene, we unload his tools, and he surveys the situation.  His first words are, "I suggest we just shift everything over, dig new holes, in fact, ADD a pole - make it four instead of three - for extra strength."

"Wow! Great Idea Uncle Neal," exclaims my son totally oblivious to the fact that I'm holding a hammer and I'm well within striking distance...

And thus did we begin digging and setting FOUR new posts.

                           

This project involved 4 very heavy sacks of cement.  Now, any one of us healthy he-men COULD have lifted and carried the sacks from the car to the backyard if needed.  But, a few months ago Drew's Grandpa - PaPa - had given him MARTHA'S ORIGINAL RED WAGON.  This is the real deal!  We loaded this 50 year-old working antique full of bags and wheeled them to the work site.  Who knows, maybe someday Ethan will give it to his child!  Yep, this Li'l Red Wagon has seen LOTS of family history and could no doubt tell some great stories and secrets!!

                                 

[I love this wagon, like me, it's an original, it's over 50 years old, the handle bar is loose, it steers a little to the left, it has a loose wheel, and it squeels if made to move too fast.]

                                             

While Your's Truly, Neal, and David (the owner of the other side of the fence) were working on this part, Drew took advantage of having access to all the tools needed to catch up on a old item from his To Do List.  He had switched from satellite to HD Cable and needed to remove the old dish from his roof.

                                    

To really appreciate this picture...that's a full box of every size of tool head for a ratchet wrench - with which the bottom two bolts and nuts should be removed.  Instead, what is #1 Son using?  Could that be a Size 11 Nike being used to push the still-attached-dish off the roof??

[Note to self: talk with son about differences between Nike and Craftsman.]

In the meantime:

                                     

Each of the sections was re-measured and cut to different lengths to match up with the new plan of 4 posts versus 3.  When all laid out, I knew how Colonel John Hannibal Smith of The A Team felt when he'd light up that big cigar, smile and say, "I love it when a plan comes together!"

                    

                                     

                           

A bit of explanation is needed here.  The house that shares the fence is actually located on a cul de sac.  While the BACK of the neighbor's property connects to Drew's, the FRONT of the house is actually several houses around the corner and down the street. 

Here's the moment when Neal breaks the news to Drew that he has now effectively cut himself off and will have to walk all the way down one street, around a corner, and up another street to get home.

                    

Drew, of course, has a better idea...he'll just scale the fence...not taking into consideration that the cement is still drying, he is not light, and he could un-do in 10 seconds a project that just took 4 men 5 hours to complete...fortunately, he made it without mishap to himself or the fence.  (It all happened too quickly (Drew knew to avoid any discussion about his plan), so I wasn't able to focus the camera, I just pointed and took the picture while also yelling some friendly fatherly words to my son...you know...along the lines of, "You #^%*$  *%&^$# !! Are you *%&^$  &^@%#??"  I don't remember the exact words...

                         

But the fence was back up and all that was left was some minor clean-up and some serious grilled hamburgers!

                   

Hamburgers were grilled, cookies were baked, chips and dips placed about the room and we chowed down with such intensity that no one even thought about taking any pictures! 

Sometime after the meal, I did snap a quick picture of some VERY tired people collapsed in the living room and playing with the dogs and Ethan...

         

One very tired and sun burnt son...

                                                      

And that's pretty much the story of Fixin' Drew's Fence...

Except, of course, Ethan was consulted all along during the project, and what grandpa could ever write a blog and not throw in the latest about The World's Greatest Grandson?!

Gee, I wonder who's room this is?

                                          

                                     

And yes...he is almost always smiling...he's a BEAUTIFUL Child!  A true gift from God. 

 

 

Never Too Early!

                                 

             Is it my imagination, or is he pretending to hold a microphone and snap his fingers??!   

Remember - you're children are watching you!

My son has a blog.  I'm very proud of him...and it.

Wander over and take a look.

Give him some encouragement and leave a comment!

For me, it's just fun to spend some time reading something OTHER than educational theory and school-related-material.

Last Saturday's Fence Replacement Party

The cedar fence in the my father-in-law's carport was old.  It was decided that it needed to be replaced.  So a couple of weeks ago I went over and tore it down. It only took 45 minutes. I gave all the old wood to the Construction Tech Class. It was good cedar wood, and once the nails were pulled and the old paint sanded off, the class had a decent pile of useable cedar for future projects.

Neal took measurements and I must give him FULL PROPS and KUDOS!  The wood came out almost to the inch - there was nothing left to return to Lowe's!  If I had taken the measurements: 1) I would have made several return trips in the course of the project and/or 2) there would have been enuff left-overs to build a small starter home.

Prior to starting around 8:30 that morning, the Chief Inspector and High Imperial PooBah personally inspected and gave his approval for every scrap of wood and screw that was to be used:

                                 

Once actual work began…

             

                                                

Advice and on-the-job pointers were a constant background noise.  I recall my favorite exchange was something about, "Look you old man, who's doing the work here?"  To wish the Old Man responded, "You know you couldn't do squat if it wasn't for all the tools you stole from me over the years."  To which my brother-in-law responded by kicking an electric drill built in 1923 across the driveway and said, "You mean this ol' piece of crap?" To which the Old Man just poured himself another cup of coffee and muttered something about how he'd rather work with Ace Barnes (his best friend and rival) anyday.

You will notice the lack of pictures with either Drew or me at this point.  The reasons are easy to understand.  I was taking the pictures.  And Drew learned years ago to stay hidden (he's behind the fence most of the time) whenever construction is underway with GrandPa and Uncle Neal.  I think it goes back to when he was a young child and was watching GrandPa and Uncle Neal do some plumbing under the house.  However it happened, Neal had grabbed an exposed pipe and received a horrible electrical shock.  He screamed and went into a rant about how if-grandpa-knew-how-to-wire-a-house-he'd-never-have-confused-a-water-supply-pipe-with-anything-electrical…to which grandpa was yelling back thru the floor something about if-he-had-a-son-in-law-with-half-a-brain-he'd-know-about-electrical-wrapping-to-avoid-freezing-pipes…to which Uncle Neal responded by trying to throw a hammer up through the flooring…

To this day, Drew just runs and hides when the work starts.

But in the end - as it always happens when we all get together and work as a well-oiled Family Team, the new fence turned out GREAT!

                               

MEANWHILE…

In the house, Baby Ethan was spending time with Great Aunt Jayne:

                                          

And Ethan was in rare form....

Ethan has been practicing his Popeye Imitation.  "I y'am what I y'am…I eats all my spinach"...

                                 

"Feel this bicep!"...

                                          

"Here, feel both biceps..I'm pumped!"...

                                  

"I'm still working on the leg part of running, but I've got the arm swinging down:...

                                          

"You MUST admit, I am so much more handsome than my Poppy!:...

                                  

Ethan Hears A Horton

It was the perfect day to go to the zoo.  The whole family agreed and said, "We'll come too!"

The sun was shining and there were no clouds, and the weather man's forecast had brought out the crowds.

Ethan had never been to the zoo, he was only two months old, but his parents wanted something to do.

The day started out with the whole family in tow - both Grandmas and Grandpas, with Mom and Dad along for the show.

                         

                                                            

When we first started out Daddy Drew pulled from a bag a brand new hat.  Ethan said to himself, "Oh Geez! Please don't make me wear that!"

But being so young his words sounded garbled, and all his parents heard was, "Mmf poo ta farbled."

                                             

"Oh isn't that cute!" cried his father with pleasure.  Convinced more than ever the hat was a true treasure.

But the hat kept slipping down over Ethan's eyes, so instead of the wildlife, all he saw was the label with his new hat's size.

                                                

Dad had bought a new gadget - a fancy papoose with lots of buckles, straps, and snaps.  But it took too long to figure out and only hurt dad's back...not a good idea perhaps.

So it was back to the stroller - easier to use and more comfy for the kid. As far as Ethan was concerned, the rolling stroller with it's shade was the smartest thing Dad did.

                                                      

                          

Having just eaten, now tucked in his stroller and rolling along, Ethan was soon dozing as the family walked the path with the throng.

                                                   

Poppy pushed Ethan along talking about the zoo.  He'd wave to the others, "Don't worry...Keep going...We'll catch up with you!"

                                 

His Grandpa Greg said to him, "The monkeys are playing, what do you think of those?"

          

                                          But Ethan was taking a short little doze.

                                                

                    His Grandpa Wayne said, "The elephants want to play ball with you!"

                 

                     But Ethan had found napping was too easy to do when you're at the zoo.

                                                                                             

Mommy Erin called out, "Ethan, listen to the lion! His roar is so mean loud and deep!"

                                            

                          That it was, but Ethan didn't hear it...he was sound asleep.

                                              

The cheetahs were resting after a morning of running and racing, and the great white tiger was up and pacing, pacing, pacing.

                            

                                

The croc was sunning and dreaming of a vacation while the meerkats sat talking and planning their next excavation.

                                 

The rhinos were taking their time strolling and grazing, while right next to them a mother was with the new giraffe she is raising.

Birds of every color were all over the place, the zebras were discussing having a race.  The gorillas were munching on juicy fruit while a parrot showed off his bright blue suit.

                                

                              

Meme and Mommy Erin rode a bronze Komodo Lizard, but wouldn't go into the real Reptile Display.  And in the Outback area the kangaroos were friendly and close enough to say "Good Day!"

                   

Ethan had spent the day surrounded by creatures such as these.  But Ethan's first memories of the zoo will be nothing but zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz's.

                                 

                        

All in good fun...this was the first of what will eventually be Ethan's regular visits to this outstanding zoo.

If you haven't been to a zoo lately, I encourage you to make the effort.  Be sure and look for zoos which are accredited by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums.  And certainly, if you are in this area, be sure to visit the Fort Worth Zoo.  http://www.fortworthzoo.org/index.html

All pictures in this post were taken by my wife or me at the Fort Worth Zoo on March 21, 2008.  As you may be able to tell, the exhibits are well-designed for creation of natural habitat environments as well as safe, close proximity and access to the animals.  The Fort Worth Zoo consistently ranks among the best zoos in the United States.

Support your local zoo.

                                  http://www.fortworthzoo.org/visit/zoorun2008.html

                              

 

                  

 

The Kid Catches On Fast

No doubt about it, Ethan - at age 3 weeks - is already learning to watch out for the Family Sense of Humor:

                                 

                              His dad plays the stale Two-Fingers-Behind-the Head gag.

                                 

                      Ethan just looks at him and thinks, "Sheesh! Is that the best you've got?"

               

                               Does Disney Artistic Flair begin to manifest this early?

                   

       Here is Ethan introducing his great-grandpa-Gulley, "Hey, you gotta meet this guy! He's cool!"

Never Too Early

Hey Ethan,

Welcome to a family that believes it's never too early (or late) to learn.

Love,

Your Poppy

                           

I have this great picture (a little too personal for posting here) of my daughter-in-law laying on the couch, fluffy pillows giving support, and a large pair of headphones on her exposed, very pregnant belly.  She was letting her son (my grandson) listen to the Beatles while still in the womb.  For the record, they played the Beatles during delivery and Ethan was born at 12:22am to the song Revolution.  His first real world memories should be those of a warm, dimly lit room and Revolution (followed by I Am the Walrus) playing in the background.

   

He's been exposed to music for months.  And if my son's music library holds any clues as to what lies in store for Ethan, he will be most eclectic in his tastes! From Radiohead, Spoon, and Moldy Peaches to The Beatles, U2, and Clapton, to Beethoven, Chopin, and Mozart.

And of course, they've been reading to him, too.  In fact, the first thing Meme (Mother Martha) did when she had the chance was read Bill Martin's classic Brown Bear Brown Bear What Do You See?  to Ethan.

                              

                              

I figure Ethan will have plenty of academic encouragement from the whole family - afterall, his parents are both teachers, two of his grandparents are teachers, and two of his grandparents are school principals.  I think I'll give the child a break and be the grandparent whose sole duty is to Spoil the Kid Rotten.  I'll be the one who plays hooky and takes him to a day game when the Rangers play.  I'll be the one sneaking him that extra bowl of ice cream when no one is looking.  I'll be the soft touch teddy bear who lets him stay up late, encourages him to climb to the top of the tree, ride his skateboard while standing on his head, and wear mismatched socks if he feels like it (an old Drew joke).

                   

Knowing Poppy is bit off-center, it's been tough finding my own Private Time with Ethan.  Not even the dogs let me get far without butting in!  Here's Jagger keeping a close eye on things this past weekend.  Are they keeping an eye on the innocent newborn or the crazy grandpa??

Will I Be Able to Speak At All?

Sitting in the hospital room with my family and holding my brand new grandson, Ethan, I was in such awe - such love - that I was truly speechless.  Everyone was asking for a post with pictures and wondering why I hadn't typed a long blog entry within minutes of Ethan's birth.  I couldn't.  I didn't have the words.

I still don't.  But I did just hear a song that articulates what I feel.  It's a song by Mercy Me called I Can Only Imagine.

Please accept their lyrics in place of anything I could say at this point.  The lyrics are really about standing in the presence of God.  But somehow, I don't think the feeling could be much different from holding a newborn child.

   

I can only imagine
What it will be like
When I walk
By your side

I can only imagine
What my eyes will see
When your face
Is before me
I can only imagine

Surrounded by Your glory, what will my heart feel
Will I dance for you or in awe of you be still
Will I stand in your presence or to my knees will I fall
Will I sing hallelujah, will I be able to speak at all
I can only imagine

                      

 

                                    

                                                

       

      

I Broke Dad

 

There were two occasions growing up that stand out as Bad Christmas Behavior.  The first was when I helped put a toy train set together for my little brother Steve.  I accidentally broke a part and the train wouldn't run. 

So my little brother woke up to a broken train set with a note from Santa that he would fix it as soon as he could.

The second not-so-stellar Big Brother Moment was when my little brother received a race car set for Christmas.  I remember we had some house guests (Marines from the nearby base that dad had invited over for Christmas).  We stayed up late racing the cars long after my brother was in bed dreaming of Santa.  We raced the cars so hard we burned out one of the small electrical engines.

So my little brother woke up to a broken race car set and a note from Santa that he would fix it as soon as he could.

So now my Dad comes to Texas and we have a fantabulous time.  But just before I sent him to my little brother in Georgia he catches my cold.  He arrives in Georgia and the next thing I hear is that he's passed out and the doctor who lives next door is admitting him to the nearest hospital with pneumonia.  He wasn't even there long enough to bake one batch of cinnamon rolls.  It seems that I broke my dad before my little brother got to play with him.

So my little brother is waking up to a broken dad and a note from the doctor that he will fix everything as soon as he can.

The train set was fixed, the race cars, too; and yes, My Wonderful Father will soon be well.  But let this be a lesson for all:

Keep your Christmas Valuables away from me!

[Specific details available to friends via email request.]

Happiness Is An Aggie in the Kitchen

The final days in Texas were filled with activities - all fun, relaxing, and chock full of calories!

                                             

(Actually, we got to talking about it...would you believe out of all the cooking Dad did, I ate ONE piece of pie.  NO, I wasn't dieting or trying to be good or playing the martyr...I was just too slow!  By the time I was ready for a piece, either the whole pie was eaten or had been packed and taken home with someone.  Remember all the pie pans I told you we bought pre-Dad-arrival?  We have ONE pan left in the house.  It doesn't matter where they went - it left here full of pie and love.  At this rate, if Dad stayed one more week, we'd have no cookware left.)

                                     

If it seems to you, dear reader, that Dad never left the kitchen...well, he didn't.  Much that is.  But it was his chosen domain away from home and he allowed enough audience participation to make the Holidays one of the best ever.

                                     

Here's a direct quote from Dad, "For the first time in many many years Christmas was more than just another day."

Dad did the cooking and relaxing and story-telling.  We tried to pay for everything - he somehow snagged two meals (both at Cracker Barrel).  And for the first time ever, we didn't do ANY shopping (other than grocery) the whole time he was here. Not one mall.  Didn't even drive past Shepplars!

                                       

He wasn't held captive in the kitchen the WHOLE time.  We spent LOTS of time drinking coffee and "talking story" as they say in Hawaii.  Dad never did get used to the deep chimes of the clock, though, they startled him every 15 minutes!

As he heads to Atlanta, we are left with a loan to the bank for enough flour, sugar, and yeast to feed an army; we have food plates and pie pans spread all over North Texas; and surprisingly enough - no leftover food in the house.

We met with the OTHER grandparents last night (Erin's folks) for dinner.  We all agreed that Dad has had so much fun, he will have a standing invitation to come here anytime Mom goes to Atlanta in the future.  Drew is GREAT on the grill, but I can't boil water without burning it...so it wasn't surprising when I overheard some plotting that from now on whenever Mom flies to Georgia for her playdates with Caitlin, Papa Charlie will come to Texas and pass along all his culinary training to Ethan.

                

Aloha, Dad!

Mahalo for a GREAT Christmas.

Come back SOON!!

Wii Wanna Play, Too!

My sides hurt.  I mean, they really hurt!

Let me explain. 

We went to "Christmas Breakfast" at my son's house this morning.  "We" included my dad, my father- and mother-in-law.

We started out with a tour of the new nursery.  A fiend of their's had painted the walls and we hadn't seen the finished product yet.  Turned out very well!

                   

                            

                              

Breakfast was excellent.  The gift exchange was fun.  But then we started talking about Drew's Wii.  That's the Nintendo Game System with the controls you have to physically move to activate.  My Dad, my father-in-law, and I had never actually seen the system demonstrated.  So Drew starts by showing them some of the basic games...golf looked good, bowling was neat, and the baseball was great.

But the two Old Men related best to Ping Pong, Billiards, and Skeet Shooting.  They wanted to play.  So after Drew gave them a basic lesson, he strapped the controls to each of them and turned them loose on what was positively the Video Game Historic Event of the Year...my Dad and Father-in-Law waving their arms around trying to make the pool cue shoot straight, the bullets hit the targets, and the paddles hitting the balls.

                  

                                             Drew explains the control to Wayne.

                        

                              Wayne practices his shots.  He's getting the hang of it now!

                     

                             Dad's turn for a lesson.  Drew shows him the "wrist twist" maneuver.

                        

                  After the quick lessons from Drew - the games began!  Head-to-head competition!

                      

Dad gets fancy and tries a double-handed control tactic. You can tell Wayne is thrown off his game by this sudden change in strategy.

                                 

                                                   Wayne doubles his concentration!

My Dad - who had never played a videogame in his life - immediately kicked my Father-in-law's butt in the skeet shooting contest.  My father-in-law, who has shot guns and hunted all his life could not believe my Dad was beating him.  My Dad explained non-nonchalantly that this was no different than his semi-annual eye exams. (??)  Whatever...he was beating an experienced shooter with scores like 172 to 88, and 126 to 75.  You Go, Dad!

My son and I were having a great time watching!  I laughed so much my sides hurt.  The OLD MEN played until they were too sore to continue.  And by then it was time to go home.  Hmmmph, just like kids, they got hooked and never even offered to share! 

Neither of these - ahem, very senior citizens - had ever touched a videogame control unit before in their collective 173 years of life.

How do I describe two otherwise reserved and well-behaved men swinging a remote control around while shouting, "Stop shooting the men - aim for the spacehips!" ?

"Ooooh Ooooh I hit the can, I hit the can..."

"Gently, gently...pull the cue back and then SHOVE it forward fast!"

"No no no...watch me..."

"Wait, you have to aim at your own [billiard] balls!"

                     

And if you think I'm exaggerating...just look at this last picture...that look on my Dad's  face is pure Farr-focused-concentration.  I think he's about to kill the Zoid Master and Win the Hand of the Fair Maiden of Geldendorf!

That's my Dad!  Man of many many talents.  The more he hangs around, the more he impresses me!

VIDEO GAME MASTER - WHO KNEW??????

Food As An Art Form

The best chefs tell you that you eat with all your senses.  I wish that was literally true.  I could easily eat my Dad's food with just my eyes.  (Study that expression carefully...you'll see it again in another picture at the end of this post!)

                                                  

I admit it...aside from all the teasing and joking around, I stood back and just LOOKED at the meal he prepared for us this afternoon.

We had a house full of guests and I went brain-dead during the meal.  I didn't take any pictures of the set-up.  But picture if you will the turkey laying on a bed of fresh green lettuce and whole, fresh, bright red cranberries as garnishment around the sides of the plate.  The ham was similar with the added feature of pineapple bits spread liberally over the slices.  The greenbean casserole and the sweet potatos covered in pecans was baked to perfection.  The colors were a perfect mix of Fall and Christmas.

And with apologies for disparaging Hefty Trash Bags in yesterday's blog - the turkey was superb!  For those not paying close attention: Dad did NOT cook the turkey in the plastic bag - he merely used it while soaking the bird in the brine (OVERNIGHT).  It was removed from bag, rubbed down in a half stick of butter, placed in a roaster with no lid and baked at 500 degrees for 30 minutes.  The turkey was removed from the oven and a cup of ice-cold white wine was poured over the bird.  The turkey was then turned over and sealed in foil and the lid put on.  Back in the oven for another one hour and 15 minutes at 350 degrees.  Removed from oven, Dad lets it steam for 1/2 hour before removing the lid.

                                    

                                       5am and the bird took a bath in ICE COLD WHITE WINE.

The meat fell off the bone.  It will resemble "pulled meats", but don't be alarmed - that's how it should look. 

My father-in-law was impressed enough to ask my Dad for the recipe.  Two grown men 85 and 88 years old smacking their lips and comparing recipes.  And my mother-in-law and other ladies at the party were in the living room and dining rooms visiting while the men (for at least 95% of the time and labor) were in the kitchen.  Probably the best damn example of role-reversal and gender-redefinition you'll find anywhere this year!  This was one politically correct party, lemme tell ya!!

And the pies! Indescribable.  If pictures just came close...they don't but here's a couple of pix that might help give you a remote idea...they really were works of art:

                     

                          Here's dad sprinkling LOTS and LOTS of coconut over the top of a pie.

                                       

          Martha teases Tim (aka Bob Cratchit from last night's play) with the finished product.

                                    

                                              Each nut placed by hand.  No joke.

                            

                                   C'mon, admit it.  It's beautiful isn't it??  Edible art work.

Remember the kid in the first picture above?  See the similarities in this picture?  I love the look on Tim's mom's face...you just know she's thinking about slapping the back of his head...hard!   

         

   

 

Family Parties and Cats

                                                   

                                                         

I think everyone involved in today's activities had a GREAT time.  Well, maybe except for Kiko - the cat.

As responsible cat owners, my wife and I are very aware that not everyone loves animals.  And even fewer love cats.  And I must admit that even the most pleasant visits with good friends have been ruined for me when their family cat decides to build a second home in my lap or the really "lonely" family dog wants to be my "special friend" and tries to explore territories that we educators tell our children are "off limits bathing suit areas" that no one should touch.

So we put Kiko in whichever room is not occupied.  That may be the main bedroom, unless the kids want to watch the big tv.  It might be the guest room, unless the kids want to play videogames, or it maybe the sewing room...(not too many kids get the urge to raise a hem or alter a dress during a party).  Regardless of the room chosen, we make sure there are adequate facilities and necessities to keep Kiko happy.  Not that he agrees.  He can actually be quite vocal when he's upset.  We brought him out long enough to let everyone pay him his usual homage, "Oh what a handsome cat"...then shut him back up in an effort to be eco-friendly to anyone with allergies.

[But allow me a quick plug here.  We bought one of those Dyson cyclone vacuum cleaners.  The one that rolls on one big ball/wheel thing.  It FILLS with cat hair and makes a noticeable difference to anyone allergic to feline dander.]

Everyone is gone now.  The dishes are done.  We're sitting around relaxing and having coffee.  One happy family.  Except for Kiko.  He's mad and ignoring us.  Every cat owner - and only cat owners - will know exactly the behavior I'm talking about.  He  struts by and turns his nose up at us.  We call and he looks away.  Yep, he's mad.  But it won't last long.  Afterall it's Christmas and he's expecting Santa to fill his stocking. And me to fill his food dish.

Yes, Dad's Still On Board, and I'm Still Writing this Glob

For those of you who were concerned about that last post and thought I might have been a bit cruel, fear not.  Dad is still on board.  I didn't throw him from the train.

He was actually with me while I wrote that last entry.  Yes, he laughed.  No, none of it hurt his feelings.  In fact, he said...and I quote..."Your Uncle Fred's been trying to get my goat for years.  If HE can't, what makes you think you can?"

And then, being the Ol'Coot that he is, he said, "I've got more road kill to grill..." and as he walked back into the kitchen, he looked back over his shoulder at me, and with a twinkle in his eyes said, "You just keep writing in that cute little 'glob' of your's."

[This guy is still as sharp as a tack!]

Pope of A&M Offers Wisdom of the yEast

Day Three of Dad's Travels in Texas included his attending Martha's Side of the Family Christmas Party.  Later that night he was there when we debuted our new book - but more on that in a minute.

                            

The day began with the making of pies.  We ended up deciding to take one pecan loaf (think fruitcake, but made entirely with pecans and those eternally embalmed fruit pieces).  Believe it or not, it's actually excellent!  It was my GrandMa Strange's original recipe, and she would send me my own loaf every year.  I would hoard it and make it last as long as possible.  Hmmmmmmmm, mmmmmmmmmm, GREAT!  (BTW, her name was Bertha Strange, so don't misread that sentence, I did not say "strange recipe".)  In addition to the pecan loaf we took three pies (banana, coconut, chocolate).

For those who have never had the Life-Changing-Experience of having any of my Dad's pies, let me explain something here.  These are not merely food.  These are individual Works of Art.  Each crust has a decorator edge, each is topped with either whipped cream or egg whites, and most have sprinkles of toffee bits, nuts, chocolate, cinnamon, etc.  Perhaps the comments most heard are one of two: 1) "My Gawd, that thing is huge...what is that...18" high??" or 2) "How the heck do we transport that thing?" [I took Physics and I know Top Heavy when I see it.]

Once at the party, Dad was the Guest of Honor.  First things first, he walked onto the stage (i.e. kitchen) and became the Star Chef - making last minute touches to his creations while dispensing tips to all within ear shot.  If you've never seen Dad in this role, you've missed watching a Master Artist pass on Wisdom of the Yeast.  He takes alot of teasing, but he REALLY is good. 

A natural teacher and story teller, Dad entertained the guests for hours.  Of course, the raves over the food fed his energy and kept him animated. (I don't think I'd realized he talks with his hands so much...)

                           

                     

                        

                            

                     

One of the real joys of the party was having so much family around.  Drew and Erin never really got to know my Mom & Dad very well, but they've always been around Martha's parents: Wayne and Lola:

                                     

It's one of the highlights of this Christmas that Drew and Erin have an opportunity to spend time with their "other" grandfather.  The one-to-one time is healthy and beneficial.  (We'll be blogging from their house on Christmas Morning.)

After the Family Party ended, some very special friends came over to Jayne and Neal's house for a special event.  For over a year we have been working on a children's book.  The book is titled Logan's Christmas Wish.  It's a true story about a boy who makes a special wish to Santa Claus, God, and a local radio station on behalf of his friend who has cancer.

The first prototype of the book was delivered and it was decided to invite Logan and his parents over for a debut reading.

The book was written by Sisters Jayne and Martha.  Jayne is a Language Arts Consultant with the TEA Educational Service Center, Region 10 and Martha has 31 years of teaching kindergarten experience.  I can't think of two more highly qualified authors for a children's book.

As far as the illustrations...well....Years ago, my nephew Kyle had a writing assignment in Elementary School.  He had to write a story.  A typical assignment.  But this time the teacher threw in a surprise.  Every student had to ask someone else to illustrate it.  I was deeply honored and flattered when Kyle, 8 years old at the time, called and asked if I would draw all the pictures for his book.  Of course I did it!  So when we came up with the idea of a book about Logan's story, we decided I would illustrate it.  It's all Kyle's fault!

                      

                           Kyle can claim credit for my becoming the illustrator of Logan's book.

So Martha and Jayne called all the invited guests into the living room.  Logan and his sister and parents were given the seat of honor on the couch and The Reading began.  Martha and Jayne took turns reading the main narrative and different family members read various parts.

                                    

                                             Hardback.  Actually turned out looking good...

                   

              Martha read using the Show-the-Pictures-While-You-Read technique (circa late 1970s).

                              

    Jayne read using the Read-Then-Hold-Up-the-Book-and-Show-the-Picture technique (circa 1995).

                     

                       The audience read along - some taking small parts as the story developed.

                     

Logan and his family knew about the work-in-progress, but this was the first time they heard the story and saw the illustrations in their final form.

                     

                             Kyle gives Logan's Christmas Wish the Critic's Thumbs Up sign!

                     

                                    Dad - the "original Farr author" looked on in approval.

                                             Here's the Farr Knighton Library to date...

                                                       

                                                                         1986

                                             

                                             

                                                                        1997

                                             

                                              

                                                                       2007

This morning Dad is baking fresh Cinnamon rolls.  Later today we're heading to the grocery store to restock the baking goods.  We'll also head over to Wolf Photo to print out some copies of pictures.

                                     

                                     

         If you can get here in the next 30 minutes, the rolls will be hot, fresh, and right of the oven!

Oh, and did I say something in earlier emails and posts about Dad being "alone" in Texas?  My mistake....

                           

 

   

   

Into the Holidays

As we head into the holidays, here's a quick picture diary of the past two days on campus:

Yesterday was the Holiday Blood Drive...(bear in mind we were having classes all day long...this was all happening "alongside" the usual academic pursuits).

The giving spirit was in full swing...

                   

Gives a whole new outlook on "roll up your sleeves and get to work..."

                   

I love how the students actually seem to really ENJOY giving blood!  As usual, the volunteer turnout was spectacular!

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Part of my "hands-on management style" is to take on all challengers...at lunch it was once again time to establish myself as Alpha Dog...(that's my Game Face!)

                     

Immediately after this picture was taken, I pinned him to the table...Poor guy never knew what hit him...

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Today was Early Dismissal...but not before we treated all the students to Cookies and Milk in the Commons Area:

                      

Greatest students anywhere!

                        

Of course, I had to pull out my best hat for the festivities !

                 

I would have gladly traded this hat for one of Dy Dan's gifts if I were at HIS  gift exchange.

******************************************

Separated at birth??

 

Happy Holidays Everyone!

You Can Call Me Anything but Gramps

If I'm about to become a whole new persona, shouldn't I be allowed some say?

This whole grandparent thing IS exciting, don't get me wrong!, but I'm getting a little nervous about what my new name is going to be...

The most popular names for grandparents (according to one Internet search I did) are Papa, Grandpa, Granda, Granddad, and Gramps.  All o.k., but not too fitting.  I'd accept any of them as a last resort except Gramps.  I've always thought that one sounds like someone who's in pain all the time. All the Gramps I've ever known were grouchy, bent over, and smelled funny.

                            

My worry is that I don't trust my kids to come up with anything I'll like.  Afterall, this IS the daughter-in-law that dubbed me with the monicker A Box of Worthless Knowledge because I beat her so bad at Trivial Pursuit. 

I suggested G-Daddy.  They said no.  I like Buddy.  They don't.

They suggest we let Ethan come up with something when he's ready.  Again, I don't trust my kids and they will undoubtedly "coach" my grandson when I'm not around.  We'll be at a family dinner get-together and Baby Ethan will suddenly blurt out my "coached-named" and I'll be stuck with Poop-Pah, Bagoo, GiGi, or Fat Pap.

I want a kewl name.  A name that matches the type of grandparent I see myself as: fun, adventuresome, jolly, reliable, strong, talented, funny, smart...you know, the ideal grandparent designed by Disney.

If Ethan has a good nose, he'd know to call me Papa Coffee.

If he has great eyesight he'd call me Guapo - Spanish for handsome.

If he's a realist he'd call me Gray-Pa.

If he's hip, he'd call me Yo! Pa!

If he likes to go against stereotypes, I'd accept Grumpy.

                                  

Names I don't hate include Popsi, Poppy, and Pappy.  (The old speech therapist in me knows a P-Word will come first...).

My worst fear is that my kids and Ethan will try to come up with names that "go together" for my wife and I.  Sorta a Beauty and the Beast hybrid suddenly being suggested. Surfing the net actually produced these grandparent name combos:

                                          

Papa and Nana.  Gramps and Granny.  Amma and Adda.  MamaBear and PapaBear.  Bamps and Bamma.  Papaya and Banana.  Bubba and Chicky. P-Pa and G-Ma.  Popo and Momo.  PooPoo and MooMoo.  Opa and Oma.

What did you call your grandparents?  Any suggestions??

Submit your names to [email protected]  Ethan is due in mid-January, but we have awhile before any names begin to stick to things and people...

Stay Tuned...this grandparent chapter of my life has distinct blogging possibilities.

[every name in this post can be found on the internet as verification that someone, somewhere actually uses it. So to Banana, Poo Poo, and Chicky...bless you!]