HLSR...

Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo. It's that time of year. It's a state of mind in Houston. Every year at about this time, the event is heralded by the arrival of trail riders from all over Texas who have actually ridden horses/driven wagons/followed in support vehicles from all corners to converge on Memorial Park on Go Texan Friday. Then they all get up at the crack of dawn to ready themselve for a parade through downtown Houston. All of that is followed by several weeks of students showing the animals they've raised, hoping to win scholarships, art contests, carnival rides, actual rodeo competitions, calf scrambles and last but not least, musical performances (mini-concerts) by recording artists representing everything from the expected country music, to hispanic, to soul.

It all works, draws huge crowds, and is all basically crafted and manned by thousands of volunteers from the community who donate the man-hours to organizing everything from BBQ cookoffs, to manning the gates, to welcoming the arrival of the trailers of animals, to banding the chicks that are handed out to FFA students to raise. All in all, an enormous project, with all of the money earned funding college scholarships for students across the state. And not just FFA-type scholarships - across-the-board opportunities for learning.

And when they arrive on Go Texan Day, many of them ride right past our administrative offices on Memorial Drive. Horses, wagons, moms, dads, children, country music blaring, traffic cops ahead and behind trying ot protect them, flags flying, news helicopters following - and everyone just taking a step back to remember.

Crazy Texans. We do love our state. Supposedly, there are many people across the country who don't have a positive feeling about the state and its people. We're so sorry, y'all. We may not be perfect, but then who is? Come visit sometime, and we'll try to change your mind!

Reminder...

Yes, it's true. This is my reminder for what I should do next week. You say, "Oh, isn't that lovely. Flowers, branches, greenery..." and that it is, but it's also my sign to wake up out of the grey, winter doldrums and the slew of detail that seems to be taking over my job, and get out into my "dreaming" world.

Have you ever noticed that going for a walk is one of the few chances we have to truly just be alone with our thoughts? Of course, this doesn't count if you are walking in step with whatever newest, favorite song is, downloaded on your iPod. No, here we are talking about a true stroll out in the woods with only brain and feet in gear. It's a great chance to tumble things around between right and left hemispheres - to turn on the blender and let one side work out the other's problems. Things get boiled down to their essentials more easily, and decisions that need to be made crystalize magically---or they don't, but at least you can feel as though you've made progress with them, or made peace with them.

So, all I'm saying is that, I need to get out and do that. I need to walk around the property, see what's blooming, make my estimates on when the azaleas will pop out, walk the gravel trails, and rid myself of the web of detail that has been clouding my cubicle. (Aha! the noble alliteration,)

There are no guarantees, but I suspect it will work as well now as it did before, if not better.

Goodbye to "House"...

No, the house has not sold yet. An offer from a builder who wants to tear it down, and some interest expressed by a buyer who would want to remodel. Right now, it's a waiting game.

No, this "House" is the one that has been a prime-time tv series for 8 seasons - the one whose producers, including the star (who is also a producer), announced this week that they had decided that it is time to end the story. I think they are all very smart people. Contracts are ending, and these creative people are ready to move on. They have given this project their all for a very, very long time, in tv production terms, and they deserve to choose to move on .

The truth is, though, that I will definitely miss the show. Though there has been a certain amount of predictability to the formula as the years have gone by, the loyal part of the show's following has always been given plenty of philosophical fodder for disection, interpretation and argument. And they have been given intriguing characters who kept us continually guessing about their outcomes. And adeptly chosen passages of music to heighten and add poignancy to every kind of moment. Lighting, scoring, direction, set dressing, and costuming all very meticulously orchestrated to create as much of the story as the script did.

And then, there has been the portrayal of the title character, an interminably detailed work of actor Hugh Laurie. The description of the day-in-and-day-out demands put on his talent and stamina seem to be somewhat legend at this point, and there is really no doubt that he has put on the mantle of his "counterpart" with an unspeakable amount of patience and understanding, all while living apart from his family in a celebrity crazed atmosphere where privacy is a rare commodity.

Oddly enough, I'm not sure I would ever have been drawn into the craziness of the series had it not been for the music that threaded its way through the first few seasons - those moments when House played the piano, and especially, when he played with guest star, Dave Matthews. Nothing like that to hook another musician! So, if when he says goodbye to "House", Hugh Laurie decides to continue on his recently begun musical journey, I say, "Go for it."

Life is too short. If we give our best to what we promised to do, then we should be allowed the lee-way to follow our other dreams, and be able to be with our families and spend time in a place that we love, wherever that is.

Best wishes, "House" staff. Job done well.

"Lotsa, lotsa, lotsa, lotsa.....".

...love." Well, that's the way the line goes in the British series, "Fortysomething." It's often spoken by a younger-something female in response to saying goodbye to most any older-something male character. One of those things that really just sticks in one's mind, especially when confronted with "lotsa" just about anything. (Funny, crazy little series, by the way - especially if you are a fan of dry wit, British perspective, fridges, stacks of traffic cones, young adults, Hugh Laurie...)

This morning, that "lotsa" would be rain...and thunder...and lightning. And on the other side of the room, our ancient dog is trying desperately to dig her way to China through the hardwood floor - hoping to escape the dreaded storming outside.

I woke to bare rumblings from the heavens way too early on a Saturday morning, prepared a simple breakfast/coffee, and propped by feet up in my corner chair/sanctuary to check my email, and there was that gentle rattle of sprinkling on the roof and trickles running out the gutters. I thought, "I love that sweet sound". Fifteen minutes later, I'm startle-jumping at a near lightning hit.

Lotsa rain. Lotsa stuff to do inside the house. Lotsa stuff to do in the garage. Lotsa decisions to make when one puts a "For Sale" sign of the house where one has lived for 30 years. Lotsa, lotsa, lotsa, lotsa....

"Oh, where have you been..."

"Oh, where have you been Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Oh, where have you been, charming Billy..."

It's an old, old song and I'm not sure of the rest of the lyrics. Something about a wife and the "love of your life", I think. And why would this come to mind? Well, I have not made an entry here in a while, and have sort of been struggling with what to write, and stumbling over myself, and then finally wondering why I should be too worried about it, after all.

This morning, a real estate agent is coming to meet with me about selling my house, which is a wreck right now because I know I'm goingto be selling it, and so have been pulling things out and sorting as to what goes, stays, recycles, is garage sale material, etc. Vicious circle strikes again. It is also not as clean, in general, as I would like, due to 4.5 years of not-having-time-to-keep-up-with-it.

And because our very old and precious canine-member-of-the-family has forgotten that she needs to go outside to take care of business, so cleaning that up goes to the top of the cleaning priority list every day.

And then there's work of course, and care-giving, and children here and there, and choir, and exercising, and well, need I go on? Sometimes, I feel like I have something to contribute to a blog, and sometimes, I just really don't. Except that here I am writing about not much of anything but getting through life, and I guess, if we all realize that others in the world are in the same boat, perhaps we can reach deep into our reservoirs of patience, and be an ounce less judgemental.

Floods...

This is Buffalo Bayou on a lazy summer day in June. Green, lush, sloping sandy banks several feet deep in lush vegetation.

One day last week, we were blessed by torrential downpours for most of one morning. Not such a blessing if one had to be driving in it on Houston's flat streets that don't always drain so well, but an enormous help in relieving our current drought conditions.

At the end of the day, I walked down the hill to our public parking lot, and glanced over to the areas where thos lush sloping banks would normally be, and they were a swirling, muddy, rushing sea of overflow. Only 2 other times have I seen the water rise so high. We were fortunate that it went no higher.

Nature's way of dealing with more than it can handle... A flood. Human being's way of dealing with more than can be handled... Tears. Sometimes tears of joy. Sometimes tears of utter sadness. Sometimes, just tears of ultimate frustration. The step beyond which we come "out of our banks". It's allpart of the rhythm.

Paperwhites...

I didn't expect it. I drove around the bend on the lane that leads to Bayou Bend, and there they were. That part of the gardens is shaded, but the ground is primarily forest floor - in other words, not populated by shrubs. In the spring, all of the "bulb" flowers start sending up their straight green shoots, and soon after - Voila! We have clusters of paperwhites, or daffodils, or whatever surprise ensues.

This year, they surprised me. I think they may be early. The camellias are different in that there are so many varieties that they start blooming in December, and fade in and out until the azaleas take over. But somehow, I didn't expect the paperwhites to be out at the beginning of January.

Who knows? Climate is such a strange thing, and ever-changing. As we are, correct? Four years ago, I had no idea what a paperwhite was, much less when it would bloom, or where. I had no idea of when camellias would bloom.

Watching the cycle of life in the gardens is a good thing. It's never exactly the same, but there are patterns and a certain flow to it all. Then, if you throw in a hurricane, or flood, or drought, or an enormous tent that stays up way too long and kills the grass beneath it - well, that's just the recipe for excitement that may be welcomed, but usually is not.

Our lives are the same. I know it appears that some people seem to never have "bumps" in the roads of their lives - that they are continually blessed with not having tragedies or setbacks or obstacles thrown in front of them. It also appears that some have way more than their "share". I can't really be sure of where reality is - probably as Forrest Gump said that it's "somewhere in between." Maybe part destiny, maybe part floating along on the wind.

All I know for sure is that the paperwhites are out in the gardens, and that is a sign of life and continued growth and the hope that comes with both.