(from the online Austin Statesman)
By Steve Hartsoe
ASSOCIATED PRESS
Sunday, July 22, 2007
RALEIGH, N.C. — Tammy Faye Messner, who as Tammy Faye Bakker helped her husband, Jim, build a multimillion- dollar evangelism empire and then watched it collapse in disgrace, died Friday. She was 65.
rest of story
Hope I can dump my Maybelline stock early Monday morning.
July 22, 2007
Goodbye, Tammy Faye
Blue is the Colour
Dedicated to a very special friend: "Min"
Love you!
Thanks to her, I have more Chelsea gear than I do Cowboys stuff.
Everybody! Sing Along!
Chorus
Blue is the colour, football is the game
We're all together, and winning is our aim
So cheer us on through the sun and rain
'cause Chelsea, Chelsea is our name
Verse 1
Here at the Bridge whether rain or fine
We can shine all the time
Home or away, come and see us play
You're welcome any day
Chorus
Blue is the colour, football is the game
We're all together, and winning is our aim
So cheer us on through the sun and rain
'cause Chelsea, Chelsea is our name
Verse 2
Come to the Shed and we'll welcome you
Wear your blue and see us through
Sing loud and clear until the game is done
Sing Chelsea everyone.
July 21, 2007
My Sister's Feet
Not these; these are the feet of a statue at the Groom Cross, those of a kneeling woman in front of Jesus carrying the cross.
I was marvelling at the detail of some of the statues when I was over there this evening. There were as many people there as I'd ever seen (travelling down I-40 on a Sat. afternoon, I should've known) and the shots I wanted to get weren't available to me because of all the folks in the background, so I was giving a bit more scrutiny to some things I had paid little attention to in the past visits over there.
See the wrinkles in the pads of the sole of her foot? I've taken thousands of photos of all of the bronze's faces and love the detail on them, but never noticed this before tonight.
The patina, the green color, is a natural oxidation of the metal, but I really don't like it. Sometimes I want to volunteer to take a toothbrush and metal polish and get it out of the cracks and crevices. (I have taken my trusty bandanna and bottle of water and cleaned the bird poop off of some of the life-sized figures when no one else was out there)
After downloading the photos I took and viewing them, I started remembering my big sister's feet, all during the summers of her teen years. (I haven't paid any attention to my sis's feet in years) Until govt. regulations prohibited it, my dad always oiled the dirt roads to his wells and tank batteries and to our house; the road surface shed water very well. He also would "drag" the roads with a home-built metal skid made of large pipe/casing cut in half, inverted and welded together; on top that he'd add or take off as needed weights made of scrap metal. It kept the roads smooth.
Growing up in the country back then was, for a teenager, pretty darn boring. We lived far enough out in the country where we could barely get the translator signal from the nearest town and were on the very edge of the Amarillo TV station's broadcast area. The best Top 40 radio station was in Oklahoma City and the signal wouldn't come in at strength until after 9:00 p.m.
Since there wasn't a lot else to do other than the usual chores and homework, we ate a lot and read a lot. To this day, my sisters and I are all a bit overweight still, but we could all probably each make a showin' on Jeopardy.
I can remember the evenings when my sister, her head full of the things that most 16 yr. old girl's heads are, would want to get away from our small, cramped and crowded house and be to herself. She would set off down the oily road, barefooted, and walk to the mailbox and back, a distance of a couple miles and small change.
I didn't have to do the laundry, but I laugh thinking about how it might have been a problem. I'm sure Sisterbelle would wash her feet before going to bed, but I also know from much personal experience how oil gets into your pores and sometimes takes a few days and a few scrubbin's to get it all out. I'm smiling as I type this, thinking of the bottom of my sister's feet being darker than that statue's feet pictured above, like a Blackfoot Injun's or her own travellin' tootsies minstrel toe-show.
She probably had some green on her feet, too... from pickin' dandelions with her toes.
She could also reach under the table and pinch her little brother with 'em.
I was marvelling at the detail of some of the statues when I was over there this evening. There were as many people there as I'd ever seen (travelling down I-40 on a Sat. afternoon, I should've known) and the shots I wanted to get weren't available to me because of all the folks in the background, so I was giving a bit more scrutiny to some things I had paid little attention to in the past visits over there.
See the wrinkles in the pads of the sole of her foot? I've taken thousands of photos of all of the bronze's faces and love the detail on them, but never noticed this before tonight.
The patina, the green color, is a natural oxidation of the metal, but I really don't like it. Sometimes I want to volunteer to take a toothbrush and metal polish and get it out of the cracks and crevices. (I have taken my trusty bandanna and bottle of water and cleaned the bird poop off of some of the life-sized figures when no one else was out there)
After downloading the photos I took and viewing them, I started remembering my big sister's feet, all during the summers of her teen years. (I haven't paid any attention to my sis's feet in years) Until govt. regulations prohibited it, my dad always oiled the dirt roads to his wells and tank batteries and to our house; the road surface shed water very well. He also would "drag" the roads with a home-built metal skid made of large pipe/casing cut in half, inverted and welded together; on top that he'd add or take off as needed weights made of scrap metal. It kept the roads smooth.
Growing up in the country back then was, for a teenager, pretty darn boring. We lived far enough out in the country where we could barely get the translator signal from the nearest town and were on the very edge of the Amarillo TV station's broadcast area. The best Top 40 radio station was in Oklahoma City and the signal wouldn't come in at strength until after 9:00 p.m.
Since there wasn't a lot else to do other than the usual chores and homework, we ate a lot and read a lot. To this day, my sisters and I are all a bit overweight still, but we could all probably each make a showin' on Jeopardy.
I can remember the evenings when my sister, her head full of the things that most 16 yr. old girl's heads are, would want to get away from our small, cramped and crowded house and be to herself. She would set off down the oily road, barefooted, and walk to the mailbox and back, a distance of a couple miles and small change.
I didn't have to do the laundry, but I laugh thinking about how it might have been a problem. I'm sure Sisterbelle would wash her feet before going to bed, but I also know from much personal experience how oil gets into your pores and sometimes takes a few days and a few scrubbin's to get it all out. I'm smiling as I type this, thinking of the bottom of my sister's feet being darker than that statue's feet pictured above, like a Blackfoot Injun's or her own travellin' tootsies minstrel toe-show.
She probably had some green on her feet, too... from pickin' dandelions with her toes.
She could also reach under the table and pinch her little brother with 'em.
Aw, Emmit!
THIS STORY was in the side-bar newsfeed and is about some comments that Emmitt Smith made concerning the Michael Vick dogfighting scandal. Vick, as you may or may not know, is the starting quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons and Smith is saying Vick is "being used".
"He's the biggest fish in the whole doggone pond right now so they're putting the squeeze on him to get to everyone else," Smith said Saturday.
The article FINALLY says Smith also places some blame on Vick.
*sigh*
How 'bout all of it, Emmitt? What sort of person fights dogs? My pop used to have bird dogs, even "coon" dogs and I owned a few fighting cocks ( never fought them,tho) but dog fighting is barbaric. I never cared for hunting, but I see the sport in it and also see the necessity in *some* types of hunting in order to control the population of the animal.
Nope, dog fighting's savage, even to me...and I'm to the right of Atilla the Hun.
Vick's just a thug, and Emmitt oughta call him one. I can't decide if Smith is cuttin' Vick some slack because of the NFL ties they share or...something else.
Quite a few years ago I read that there would be some competitive card games in the locker room and on plane rides when Smith was a Dallas Cowboy. ( If Charles Haley wanted to bluff me, I sure would let him. ) I also learned, from reading interviews with his teammates, that Emmitt was a fanatical and pretty darn good domino player.
Stick to Dancing With the Stars and dominos, #22. Don't play the race card.
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