Job Hunting Part Two: In Houston

Goblin Valley had been translated and moved somewhere above the outskirts of Houston. At least, that’s what it looked like to me: tall, skinny, billowy celestial white crags, radiating with a fiery glow.

The job hunt took me to Houston again. I was relieved of having to navigate my way around on my own. The company provided all transportation that was needed to get from points A, H, and C and back to A.

The interview was like a five course meal and went really well.

With this trip there were not any delays, or extra miles to travel, or hoops to jump through, it was like a well executed military drill, without the military unpleasantries. The biggest glitch was the four hour wait in the airport for my return trip. People should never get a chance to become that intimate with any airport. Airports should be like a fast food experience, and you should always be able to have it your way, but alas, that is not how life [or this part of life] was meant to be.

Upon my arrival to Lubbock, the sun was getting ready for bed. The sky was ablaze, God was stoking the furnace. How can the sun go to bed so quickly right after such a climatic moment? That’s like going to bed just when the last Horcrux has been destroyed. There needs to be a moment for the endorphins to slow down and return to normal levels. There needs to be a moment to sort things out.

But I digress. If you had to choose between Lubbock, Houston, or Lincoln, which would it be? If you answer the question, you must also give at least one reason why.

Job Hunting In Lincoln: Part 1

And then the alarm went off when the chickens were still asleep. Hastily dressing, I finished getting ready for my trip. Somewhat bright-eyed and bushytailed, my friend arrived to return the favor [a trip to the airport]. This was my first time flying “stand-by” and I was not sure what to expect. When you begin your journey before 6:00am, stand-by must not be much of an issue. There were at least eight empty seats on one of those 2x1 seating arrangement planes…just a tad bigger than a Cessna.

My first stop was Dallas/Ft Worth and it all seemed smooth sailing…in fact they decided to put me in First Class for the next leg to Omaha. Did I mention it was First Class? There’s a first for everything. I think I could get used to the extra pampering, if only I could get used to being rich…oh yeah, I have to get rich first.

We boarded the plane, they shut the door, and…delay. There was a mechanical problem with the luggage compartment. We sat and waited [I snoozed] for over an hour. But hey, at least I was being delayed in First Class.

I arrived in Omaha, and without backtracking too much, let’s just say that I did not have reservation for a rental car to take me to Lincoln. The only thing available in the entire airport was either a minivan, or an SUV…for the shallow, cheap price of $110 per day, with only a 30 minute late return window. Fortunately a kind car rental lady informed me that a car rental company across town had something more in my price range…the hang-up was getting across town. I had to take a taxi [what a necessary evil in the world…taxi cabs]. Once I got across town, I was hooked up with a nifty little Kia sedan.

Because I had time to kill before I could check into my nightly abode, I decide to take in a couple of sites in Omaha. I went to the Mormon, Winter Quarters Church History Site. It was a wonderful place to be in the middle of an unfamiliar land. The Temple across the street was a beauty to behold as well.

With time passing, so did my stay in Omaha as I headed west, southwest, to Lincoln just an hour away. As I drove, I was amazed at the landscape. It was like God’s solidified version of the ocean. The rolling hills went on and on, of all shapes and sizes.

I checked into my room, rested up a bit, and went to see if I could navigate the town well enough to find the company I would be paying a visit to tomorrow. Lincoln must have been planned by the town drunk or by a pack of tornados…either would have appeared just as haphazard. But don’t get me wrong, Lincoln is a pretty town. I’m sure the locals know all the ins and outs and turns of the town. My persistence paid off and I found my destination and figured out how to snake my way there in fifteen minutes versus half an hour.

More updates to come…

Lippi's Lunar Lunacy

And so Lippi paid homage to the lunar eclipse by burying twelve chicken bones and one split wish bone [making it fourteen bones] in the back yard. And from the bottom of each hole he removed exactly one spoonful of dirt and mixed it with rainwater to make the mud to smear on his face so he too could be eclipsed like the moon. With the mask on his face, he walked sideways down the sidewalk until he came to the streetlamp, where he begged the mighty light to move on, to pass by so he could wash his face and return to bed before the sun spoiled his celebration.

August 1945

And so the world was
soft orange when the letter arrived from Jed
on a day in late summer with only the wind around for companionship
flatness was out and wavey auroras of the spent day hovered on the horizon were in
side of the mind recalled how long it had been
since the last communiqué coming from over there, yonder where I yearned to go
what is left to tell of his scribbled ink
of the orange day when hearts were knitted, before the dawn of sorrow
when the world was unblemished by sun spots
never the same, shadows
growing, dispelling, dismissing the light— as before
for he will not be home
tomorrow
but three days hence,
before the post makes the rounds again
beyond the withered willow, down the road from Ms. Snow
Jed shall finally behold what he held so dear.

Lions, Gators, ...Cape Buffalo? Oh my!

Quick Quip:

Just one bite of African veal

Was more than my pride could bear.

Yard Sale

There is a reason why we haven’t had a yard sale in ten years. I hate putting together and holding a yard sale. So why did I decide to have one last Saturday? Because there really isn’t ever a really good and justifiable reason for having one, I’ll just say that the devil made me do it and the fires of his domain were extra toasty that day— so toasty that I could feel it. I sweated in it. I was burned by it…extra crispy.

My kids were so excited to have a yard sale. Our oldest was only a baby when we had the last one. To make things more exciting, we gave up our home court advantage to set up shop in front of a friend’s house [who happens to live on a much busier street…and to our surprise had two other homes hosting a yard sale] and we invited or suckered another friend to join us for a fun filled day in the sun.

Anyone who has ever had a yard sale [I think I can safely say that everyone reading this post has held at least one…I mean it’s like trying to find someone who hasn’t at least once, touched a 9V battery to their tongue to see if it still had any juice left] can attest to the fact that finding stuff to sell in a yard sale is about as much fun as pulling thistle with your bare hands. To de-junk is one thing, to gather junk and place a pathetically priced price tag on it another story.

7:30 am I set up shop. One of the weird things about Lubbock, is that people hold yard sales 365 days a year, weather permitting. Having two other people on the street hosting yard sales only makes the garbage pile bigger, thus attracting more scavengerous beasts. I met some of the strangest people…perhaps they watch Antique Road Show too often. I sold a few items to a lady who even asked me “Why do people buy stuff like this when they don’t need it?” as she continued to add junk to the growing pile in her arms. Because I was shallow enough to want her $3.50, I refrained from honestly answering that question.

Another couple pulled up in their van, the wife toting a small plastic baggy of loose change. I dubbed her Queen Haggle. $1.00 was the only number she knew and for her, nothing at a yard sale should ever be priced higher than a dollar. In fact, she gathered up several items together and insisted that she get all of them for a $1.00. Now with each passing moment, her husband’s face was getting redder and redder, the veins were bulging… “Honey, give me a dollar.” “The ATM has run out of dollar bills!” “Oh, pipe down and give me the bag.” She proceeded to count out her loose change. Why was I so willing to give in to her powers of persuasion? I mean it was pocket change! I was hot. I was tired. I was burned. I was miserable. Did her jingle of coins offer any relief to what I was enduring?

I closed up shop sometime after 5:00, a few dollars richer, none the wiser, but in a last ditch effort to rid myself of my wares, I put up a sign that said FREE. Three ladies hopped out of a car, looked through everything that was left, loaded up their arms with stuff and left with smiles on their faces. What didn’t sell, was taken to United Way.

I think I'm good for another 20 years.

An Open Letter to Donny Osmond

Donny,

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat is one of my favorite musical plays. I have seen many productions of this play. Ever since you did your stint as Joseph in the 1999 production, I have wanted to see it. My MIL had the opportunity to see it live when your show traveled to SLC. She enjoyed the show. Recently, as a birthday present, my MIL gave me a DVD copy of this particular production. I was really excited to see it and share it with my children because it would allow them to finally see the visual story line [we have had a CD of another version for many years and they enjoy the songs, but they had never been able to fully appreciate the entire story on the stage].

How sorely disappointed I was to see that You, a man who should have some sense of moral compass, allowed yourself to be portrayed as a Joseph who does not flee from the grasps of Potipher’s wife. That is a main part of the story. Joseph flees from her! My kids know the Bible version. He flees! That is one central part that makes Joseph’s character so great. To be a part of a production that illustrates otherwise diminishes the value of the story and wrecks the moral high road that you have trodden for most of your life. Was it worth the money?

Signed,

Sorely Disappointed in Lubbock