Astrology Home Buoy
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12/31
From the log files, the stuff the guys in the back room shoot over the wire to me, I figure this weekend will be a light duty for the server, and in keeping with the idea of out with the old and in with the new, I fired up the web ware and hacked up a new look. One thing I noticed was that a number of folks use slightly modified pictures of themselves so I opted for one that was real, and recent, courtesy of Pa Wetzel's digital camera, something from the Xmas season. It looks like this is a really slow load, so it'll take some getting used to, and maybe a little tweaking. Or maybe I'll trash it all by Monday because it looks so bad on an certain browser. Year end meanderings included the fact that I have 14.1 Megs of mail now, mostly old stuff. Or odd stuff. That poet's missives, one or two old love letters, rants and raves, and some business stuff. And the recent mail list rejects, but that wasn't too much....

12/30
That little dead space between Xmas and the New year, sure, it's supposed to be a quiet time, but it just hasn't worked out that way. My computer clients are all in a dither, about one thing or another. The phone rang non–stop yesterday morning, then, as I was getting ready to leave, I couldn't find my cell phone. I'm pretty sure I remember grabbing it when I walked in last night, after moving a carpet I'm pretty sure I checked for it. But I couldn't find it yesterday morning. What's worse, as I frantically dialed myself, it's set to vibrate, and in its case, I couldn't hear it if it was here. Call the cell phone Virgo, and get it temporarily turned off. As I was heading over to visit a computer, my beeper kept beeping, and I had to stop and get change to check the messages. I remember why I liked that pocket phone. For right now, I'll blame the cat. She might have drug it off some place. Sure, that sounds plausible.

12/29
I still haven't figured out what to do with the Barbie Doll trio I got. I'm not even sure if I understand the intent of the message of the gift. It's a carefully selected gift set, three Beach Barbies, one red head, one brunette and of course, one blonde. Wrapped up — it looks like a pink cardboard and cellophane Barbie sandwich. I haven't even taken the tape off the box set yet, it's three individual packages wrapped up together. Three Barbie Dolls. I was thinking about having them all sit on my desk, sort of looking down at me for inspiration. "But how will you get their little legs to bend?" "Easy," I replied, flicking my FGS Zippo open and striking the flint....

12/28
Tech support people deserve a lot of praise. I spent more than an hour talking with two lads at the Left Coast headquarters for one of the online companies I employ. I had the weirdest problem I was trying to track down, and I was doing my best to avoid the obvious solution — nuke everything on the drive, and reinstall it all. Which, of course, is what I wound up doing at two in the morning. But not before I gave those guys a good laugh, and having several friends who work in tech support, I was careful not to give them any ammunition. Nope, we were telling stories. Elvis and space aliens which had inhabited computers.

12/27
Best Xmas gift, I mean the best thing that really got my attention, long after the holiday was over, the item I will hand carry home, "Wagner's Ring: the comic book." The Dallas Museum of Fine Art had a Georgia O'Keefe traveling exhibit, and I was singularly unsuccessful at convincing anyone that the ladder to the moon picture would look ever so perfect on my trailer's wall. Might have been my state of mind, but I kept finding all those pictures of flowers strangely — ahem — arousing? Is that the right word for something classified as fine art?

12/26
I should be more ashamed, but frankly, it really is too much fun, and it's not like I pass through the big DFW airport that often — so yes, I went with my parents, and we met Sister's flight from the left coast, all dressed in our sleep wear. Being the brave Gemini soul that she is, Sister walked off the airplane dressed in flannel Rubber Ducky pajamas. According to her ride to the airport, "You don't even have decency to be embarrassed!" So perhaps more members of my family are trifle off, but we did wander around the big airport, waiting for Sister to emerge, dressed in our sleep wear. In fact, to make it a perfect Xmas day, we never managed to get out of the pajamas.... Sure, like being a fishing guide and astrologer isn't strange enough? Look at what I've got to work with. It was a good Xmas, that's for sure.

12/25
Early morning, I figure I've got enough time to scope out my e-mail and see if there are any fires that need to be put out, then roll over, nap some more, and it's off to the airport to pick up Sister. My normal relatives came over last night, and there is hope, a great little hope, in the form of the first male child born into this generation, me and my cousins, and it's a Sagittarius. A guy Sagittarius. I was a little afraid to wear my blinking Xmas earring this time, I was scared that my cousins' kids would all get the idea that there's this strange family member they see once year, and he always has a blinking ear. Nope, not going to do it. Besides, I was such a model child, I'm sure my cousins are looking forward to their Sag being a similar model child.

12/24
I'm worried about my family, it's Xmas Eve, and where's the panic? Where's the mad dash to the Wal–Mart for the last minute goodies? Where's the look of sheer horror now that the respectable relatives are coming over? I did get a chance to feel the magic of the time, if only for a little while, as I was helping Pa Wetzel troubleshoot a digital camera... now, it's time to talk about traditions. Family traditions. Weird family traditions. Strange things we do, but only at certain times of the year.... my Sister lives on the Left Coast, in the Bay Area, which means she avoids the regular part of the family by the constraint of gainful employment — "Ugh, I got to work that night, I think...." So she flies in Xmas Day, red eye. In keeping with the tradition of all waking up together as a family, we had a bright idea to greet Sister's flight with us still in our sleep wear. Of course, I've got nice, comfortable flannel, but given my recent round of ghost writing, I was thinking along different lines, and I brought my black silk pajamas, just in case I change my mind. Black silk bottoms, matching top and robe, and how about some nice endangered species black cowboy boots to finish it all off? [I was thinking a cigar would be best, but I'm with my folks, and to hear Ma Wetzel complain about it is more than its worth.]

12/23
Sure is nice to be home. I took a window seat where I could gaze out at that moon which was a full 14% larger than usual. Full Moon, Solstice, what does it all mean? Means that I had a scare at the airport — I was sure I was going to have my luggage in the lost baggage syndrome again. End of last month, it was suitcases, earlier this month, it was UPS repeatedly delivering to wrong addresses, and then, here I was, waiting to see my luggage come shooting out of the chute. In a panic, I stormed into the Southwest Baggage Claim office, asked nicely, and then the lady said, "Oh, you luggage hasn't dropped yet." Whew. My sweet, elderly mother [she must've had me really late in life] was fixing vegetables in the kitchen. All I could think about was just the right ingredient to make the vegetables really jump with flavor. "Ma, how about a dash of salt and some ham?"

12/22
Remember the theme song to Batman, the TV show? Play it when I head out to the mall, or even just round the corner for some BBQ at Artz. This is just plain way too much stuff. By the time I hook a cell phone, a beeper, a folding knife, my Leatherman, and the Palm Pilot, I look just like some sort of guy headed out on an action expedition. I just hope I don't run out of batteries. Of course, going forth to do battle with the crowds in the shopping arenas might equate to something just like that. "Who was that you were flirting with?" "Her? Know her from, someplace. Leo." A little later, "Hi, we've met before? Must've been prison." A little later this evening, I'm winging my way under a full moon to Dallas. Did you ever see Dallas from a barn storming Southwest 737 at night? Doesn't scan as well as the original, but it fits. But there was another theme song which came to mind, espcially after being in contact with some of my old school buddies. West Texas Highways, Michael [Martin] Murphey, performed by Lyle Lovett.... They are scattered across the country, and I'm still a little more like a hitchiker. "Said I was running, but I'll take my time, friend of the devil is a friend of mine...." And the perfect musical introduction, "This song is for my mother, and the boy she raised...."

12/21
I exchanged e-mail with some old school chums — don't think I'll get much sympathy from the guy now in North Alaska when I complain about how bitterly cold it is here — it's still above freezing right now.... But it is weird hearing from people I hadn't heard from in over twenty years. Here's the full story on one of these guys, I mean, when I first ran into him, a long time ago, he was built like a brick wall. "Go ahead, punch me in the stomach — if you think you can." He was tough. A solid, wedge shape. Then, some years ago, I was out driving a Scorpio girlfriend around to garage sales, and I ran into this familiar face. He was smiling, purveying his small share of junk in the front yard of a trim little house, right under the flight path for the old airport. Jovial grin, a little less hair than I remember, and the grin was infectious, and real. We started the game of "I know you from where" and I was looking my ragged Austin best, ponytail, shorts, sandals, T-shirt minus a collar and sleeves, normal, formal attire. "Wetzel, right? Now I remember. Kilo Troop." Echo, actually, but memory is a tricky thing. I was talking to him the other evening, and I got e-mail's from the old school chums, all about the same time. Last night, all I was doing was trying to beg a little venison for chili from the guy. He tried to shock me, "If I can't kill it, I don't want to eat it." Didn't work, but it's not such a bad philosophy.

12/20
I took off for the afternoon in a tweed sport coat, and I had to quickly shed the attire because it was lot warmer out than I thought — shorts weather. By the time I was heading home, after stopping off for a quick cup of fuel at Ruta Maya, though, the evening shadows were cool, and there was going to be a little chill in the air. I forgot how much I like to play computer nerd. I realize that Windows technicians would roll their collective eyes at me and my pitiful attempts at working with hardware, but I was trying to see if I had an old hard drive I could set up for Sister, and I had an old drive I popped out of a computer, and a case left over for it, and pretty soon, I had stuff scattered all over the coffeetable, illuminated by a single bare bulb, hanging from the ceiling of the trailer. And I was working on all the delicate hardware with nothing more than a pocket knife and my old Leatherman Super Tool™. It wasn't nearly as successful as I thought as it was an old DEC drive, and although I could get it to fire up, it didn't have near the storage space I remembered. What was even better was the case I finally popped it into, there was a "May 1991" sticker inside it. That drive, back then, cost close to a grand. And that pre–dates my Bachelor Degree — the one from the university, not my current status. What was even more amazing was the heft of the drive which went into the dumpster, the sheer volume of material that now does nothing useful. New drivers, the correct little jumper wire, and it all worked, but at less than a single gigabyte, I'm afraid it isn't really useful, other than as a doorstop. Unless Sister wants another doorstop, I'll just hold onto to the toys. Fishing lure earrings, now that's some more recycled hardware ideas for Xmas....

12/19
Worked all yesterday morning. I had just the toughest time not playing with a graphics program, a new one, and doing truly horrendous web graphics. I know I should stick to writing horoscopes, but I would tickle my muse by tickling the mouse, and seeing what truly heinous combinations I could come up with. Nothing matched my shirt collection, but I had a few close ones. Maybe I'll post my efforts — or maybe good sense, taste and decorum will prevail. Went to a party last night, it is the Xmas party season. Ran into some friends, and then hopped over to the Broken Spoke for some music by the Derailers. Great stuff, although, as I understand it, this is music which I couldn't get anyone at the table to agree upon. "Country?" "No, it's alt country." When I hear the tag "alt" all I think about is an internet newsgroups title. Somehow, I don't think this is the same thing. Sounded pretty much like straight country to me. "Dude, they have a hidden track on one of their CD's. 'Raspberry Beret.'" That sounds different. Didn't hear it last night, though. The last time I saw the Derailers, I was in motel room, and it was either Xena or the Country Music Channel. I must confess, the music is much easier to dance to in person. And judging by the crowd, the "alt" tag should fit. I did dance to a swinging country style version of "Rudolph...." [although some of his compatriots might be mounted on the wall in the restaurant.]

12/18
"So you know a lot about 'Cabalistic Astrology'?" the Gemini asked, calling from New York, "and where have you been the last two days?" "Kramer, I'm in London, got a minute to look at my chart?" the Sagittarius asked. "Because silk always reminds me of you," wrote the Taurus. I was trying to capture some of the weirdness quotient at work yesterday afternoon. The sun was out, even at its highest, low in the sky, I was wearing shorts and talking to an herbalist at the post office, unwrapping an Xmas gift, from the aforementioned note, silk boxers, and quickly stuffing it into my pocket. The silk boxers, I couldn't fit an herbalist in those shorts. Then it was a quick walk along the shores of the river to get downtown, while I was pondering the absolute silliness of the improbable morning. And the fact that I had underwear in my pocket, but none on otherwise. The weather was such that I kept peeling out of my T-shirt, then putting it back on. I got lost trying to speak Spanish to the Hispanic server, although I made a valiant effort. I was still thinking about French, from a morning e-mail, from an Aquarius. The Neighbor and Friend wandered into the trailer, drinking beers and talking trash, just to round out the weirdness of the morning. Still no cell phone, and I'm starting to enjoy the freedom, although, I did feel a little strange when I was downtown, wearing shorts and all, on one of the shortest days of the year, stopping to get a Egg Nog Latté, sipping the warm solution, and wandering along — I felt naked without a cell phone even though I had some shorts in my shorts' pocket.

12/17
I ate a late lunch at "El Sol y La Luna," running into an old friend, comparing Scorpio war stories, and having one of the better plates of 'Barbacoa' that I know about. And it's been strangely quiet around here, the Shady Acres crew seems to be consumed with Xmas stuff. And my cell phone got turned off. I don't mean, like I left the switch off, although I did that, too, I mean like there was a typical screw up with the billing, the check's in the mail, and I didn't feel like hassling a poor customer service person right now. Their mistake is giving me some rather enjoyable, non-frantic peace and quiet. It's not like I'm not reachable, I'm just not available via cell phone. It's quiet — a surreal quiet I haven't had in several years. I can sit through a meal without having to answer a call. This is great. There's a certain freedom now. Maybe I'm being irresponsible, but you know, I'm liking this a lot. I might try this off switch thing some more.

12/16
"Yeah, dude, I got two things she doesn't want to see: a bad attitude and an assault rifle." Merry Xmas to you, too. I was listening to poor Bubba unload a little, something about a former lover, and he sounded just a tad bit bitter. I wrapped up a good day, but I was dog tired by the end of the night. I was at Wal-Mart, and for the life of me, and despite all the marketing, the gifts, the milling throngs of people, there just wasn't anything I needed. I'm sure there's something I needed, but I didn't have it on my list, and there wasn't much else to do. Me and a Virgo hit the Armadillo Bazaar, one quick spin through the booths to see all the handicrafts. There was one booth with some pretty interesting artifacts, all made from various bits of "found" resources. "Absolutely 100% of everything [here] is junk...." said the merchant. "100% junk?" "Yeah," she further commented, "most people miss that statement." But it was pretty cool stuff, and a definite cut above the rest of the material, if only because it was different than anything else. But like the batteries in my earring, I ran out of energy before the day was done. And Bubba was none too cheery.

12/15
Last night, I listened to friend recount her adventures overseas. She took one look at my flashing earring and suggested that it wasn't weird enough for around here. She loved being overseas. "Italy — there was guy smoking underneath a 'no smoking' sign, the politicians are corrupt, nothing runs on schedule — it's just like Louisiana...." She did bring me a special medallion, one blessed by the Pope. I feel good things are about to happen. I was exchanging e-mail with Sister briefly, and we got off on the subject of coffee — a habit with both share with gusto. A friend dropped off a delightful surprise — I suppose no Xmas gift should be a surprise at this time — the gift was small bag of coffee. Texas Coffee Roasters "Texas Blend Italian Roast." It makes the most wonderful cup of coffee. The Italian Roast was — near as I can figure — one of those Italian things. Since everyone was doing espresso, a double roast bean, dark and oily, I guess the Italian roasters came up with something even a better, a triple roast. Really dark, really oily. And the stuff my friend delivered was fresh out of the coffee roaster yesterday. Given my caffeine consumption, Sister was wondering why I don't have an espresso machine. Frankly, it's too much work. In the morning, I'm doing good just to grind the beans and boil some water. I prefer a French Press for making coffee, then I sip it out of a demitasse, one of those little cups that looks like miniature mug, just about enough for a single gulp of viscous brew. The French Press came from a former editor, and with the right beans, boiling water, there is a thick oil slick with bubbles on top, and that is a perfect cup of coffee. That, morning e-mail, it's the good life.

12/14
A friend dropped me an e-mail, and as soon as I responded to it, she called, "Let's do some breakfast or lunch or something!" As she came bursting through the trailer door, "Hey Kramer, you got any tampons?" Now, it might not be a well–known fact, but yes, I do have a spare stash of those things. Supposedly they are left over from someone, or maybe it was because I endeavor to be Sensitive New Age Guy, and that's an item all us SNAG types should keep on hand. There's actually a more sordid story, it involves an old car, a stripper and some BBQ, but I figure the reality of it should all be best left to myth and imagination. Smoke and mirrors. At one point during the day, a clerk commented on my sartorial choices for the brisk day, and my friend replied for me, "It's his 'Bubba Punk' look. Nice flannel, good color...." So it was a massive plate of roast pork enchilada, topped with a fried egg at Guero's, a trip to the airport to correct another American Airlines screw up [remember, they lost my bags last month] and then off to Amy's for a cup of coffee. And ice cream, of course. For a change, I had Pralines and Cream. But the butterscotch had started to caramelize some, so I had the guy mix a little bit of that in, too. I wore my flashing Xmas earring all day. But my friend was not entertained by it. "Look, it was fun last year, remember? The company party? The problem we had getting batteries for it beforehand? Sorry, but it's old now." Not everyone reacted with a similar sentiment, though. And to be fair, I sometimes forget about it. At Amy's, some little girl was briefly astonished by it. Her guardian, though, he seemed more taken with it. For a true "Bah Humbug" Grinch type, I have a little fun. And I did get a copy of the Xmas song by Robert Earl Keen, a little holiday music for the time with the family. As I was busy avoiding real work at a late hour of the night, last night, I came across a journal question — "How does music affect your memories?" I could think of two albums that fit that, one was Deep Purple's "Machine Head" [circa 1974] — it was a magic time, and it was a Deep Purple summer. At least, I think it was — 1974, might have 1975. I vaguely recall working at Dairy Queen, Smoke on the Water was a radio hit, and one that I had to blast from speakers, again and again. And then there's ZZ Top. Well, duh. Triple X, their latest, was on my changer for rotation. Bass, drum and fuzzy guitar — saw them last with the Virgo in Phoenix, around 1990 [?].

12/13
"Good chili cannot be hurried," admonished my companion Sunday night. It was a cold and unforgiving day outside, bitterly cold by my standards — anything below 70¼ constitutes bitterly cold — and that meant the movie we never got to yesterday was the sole goal for the day. Evening. Whatever. Afterwards, and after some Texas Chili Parlor Triple X chili, we tried her new fireplace. There was disturbing sense of "having been there before" as a little bit of the smoke curled up the fireplace and created a light haze in the living room. So much for fireplace action. No ethical problems, either. Got back to the trailer in time to take care of business, check to make sure Mr. Webmaster did his job right. It's a thankless task, but someone has to do it. The advertising is causing problems with about two web browsers a week. Of course, I still think the funniest note was the question, "Is this week's scope up?" "Sure." "Well, no one else in the office had net access, so I was just checking — I thought it might be your site." And until someone sends a me lot of money, I have to keep running banner ads, hey, it helps pay the bills around here. I suppose I should mention what can happen at certain turning point in a character's life, like it did in the movie, guy hits age 42, the planet Uranus is approximately one half of the way on its 84 year journey, and weird stuff happens in his life.... "American [something]" — the afternoon's movie. Naturally, that's just an astrologer's take on the film. I hope I can find someone that young to be interested in me when I get that old. Maybe not that young — that's too much like dating a friend's daughter, and that's way weird.

12/12
What an interesting number for the Xmas holidays. 12 signs, 12 months, the last of the century's remarks. I carried myself up to Threadgill's for a little vegetable platter and a reading. Halfway there, I glanced up from the street in front of me, up through the foggy overcast, and looked at the state capitol building. It looked like it had been circumcised by the fog, the top portion of the dome disappearing into a cloud bank. While the morning started out excessively cool, with a gentle patter of rain soothing and urging me to stay in bed, I did stir, only to handle a few quick panic calls, then arrange for the afternoon's post reading diversion: grocery shopping. Never really did get any work done, and while there were a number of movies we all wanted to see, the lines at the wholesale grocery store upset the timing a little, then it was food, then it was one more quick stop to see a card that had a "George W." signature on it — might be a little hasty, but unless something good happens, looks like he's the contender — bought a cigar, went to Amy's on Guadalupe, and then hit the lights. So, no movie, no party — we were supposed to wind up there, too — but Mexican Vanilla and Butterscotch, and the lights on 37th Street. Or is it another number, I can never recall. For folks unfamiliar with the street, it's about a block in an old neighborhood where the residents take excessive pride in putting up Xmas light. Far from normal, but then, this is Austin, what did you expect? A skeleton in one window, a figure that I'm pretty sure was a blow up doll, hanging upside down and covered with light, and each house varying greatly from its neighbor. It's also not an official or sanctioned site, to the best of my knowledge, so that makes it even better. It was here, many years ago, I saw a special vision of a bust of Elvis, carefully displayed with reverence, and I knew that I belonged in Austin. There was a strong, wet wind billowing up from the coast, so here we were, looking at the Xmas lights, folks strolling by in shorts and T-shirts, enjoying the mild weather. There was talk about snow in West Texas, but here? Shorts. Ice Cream. Artistic Xmas lights.

12/11
I'm now at loss about what to do about the newspaper columns I've turned in. For starters, I did a weekly column for them, every week from the section's launch date onward, and the paper has only run a few of them. The editor cites space as a problem, and that's something I understand, only, in my terms it's usually bandwidth. But I guess it's about the same thing. I tossed out a lot of the heavy graphics on my page, but the throughput is still pretty high. Fortunately, most of that is now straight text. The complaints dribble in one at a time, about one every 5 to 7 days, about the new look — more from the folks looking for the Friday update, and while I have the time to post it now, I won't always have that time, and it's not worth the effort, not for my return. Besides, when I was crafting the paper's columns, I was running into a limit in the number of words, or "column inches," with my content. What to do. Of course, I haven't been paid, either.... And while I'm lugging the PowerBook from corporate party to corporate party, "performing," I figure I need to add juggling to the various disparate parts of my resume. Sure, be just like my sister. "You here with the band?" "Sure, I'm part of the entertainment tonight...." "Oh, I want to get a reading from you...." This really happened at one of the parties I was working at: "Kramer? Wow, you own a suit?" Old friend from various places — another guy who never knew I owned a shirt, much less foot wear or anything capable of having starch in it....

12/10
The Austin Bermuda Triangle — I think I figured out that it's the destination for my package, that special place lost luggage and improperly delivered packages go to. It's certainly South of the River, but north of South Austin. The item I ordered, and the company I ordered from, "the shipper," in proper UPS language, responded within two hours on Monday night. UPS, in comparison, gave me the exact same promise three mornings in a row, that a driver and truck would be dispatched within an hour, and I should have the package that morning. Given the current record, I have to wonder if the driver and the truck were dispatched together. Maybe they got sent in different directions, and that would account for the confusion. The company, Spire USA, dropped another item into the shipping lanes, different carrier, and promised it Friday morning, apologized profusely and admitted that the UPS folks sounded a little "confused" about the problem. I knew it Monday night, I should have just carried myself over to the delivery address, and grabbed it off the doorstep. What would be the harm in that? But there is a Bermuda Triangle effect that works in parts of South Austin. It's around the corner of First Street, which runs North and South in South Austin, but more in an East West direction on the other side of the river. Riverside, Barton Springs, the Auditorium, Congress Avenue, all of it gets confusing. A true Austin native doesn't let this deter [or detour] our routes, that's why "10:00 AM Monday" morning means "by Tuesday afternoon" to the rest of the world. And maybe that's why so many true Austin natives have a glazed look in our eyes — but we're used to it. A different UPS driver showed up at 7:10 PM last night, with the original package under his arm. It's the Bermuda Triangle effect, I'm telling you. Of course, the local representative called this morning, waking me up, telling me a driver was on the way today. There is still some confusion over there.

12/9
UPS folks are much friendly early in the morning — that night crew was really rude to me.... but my package is still Missing In Action. I just wonder if someone opened up the invoice, and saw the shipping information, and then also saw the Credit Card information, if I could have an even bigger hassle on my hands. "Well have a supervisor from that section get back in touch with you ASAP." The miracle of the web is the instant information which should be available, like tracking a package — but the problem is the people in between. I'm not sure all of this a good idea. Perhaps we could go back to the good old days of the Pony Express. So far I've wasted at least six phone calls trying to track down my package — with no luck, but early morning promises and late night frustration. If this package had been delivered via a real Pony Express, it would cost a ton of money... in its time, it was $5 per half ounce. So a one a four pound package would cost $640 to get delivered. And it would take ten days. And it would go from Missouri to Sacramento. Allowing that good cigar back then cost a nickel, and comparable cigar these days (Texas Draw) costs $2.95, that means, wait, the calculator, shipping should be $383,360 — using my cigar as an indication of inflation. But still no package. Of course, with a form letter reply, and no package, I'm beginning to wonder if I will remain a UPS customer for long. Isn't it wonderful, while I wait for the UPS package to arrive, I have enough time to find how much it would cost to send it real Pony Express. Of course, as I also learned from the web site, the real Pony Express was a financial failure.

>Dear UPS Customer:
>
>Thank you for your inquiry. Our UPS system indicates that we successfully
>contacted you on 12/07/99, to further discuss this matter. If we may assist
>you in the future, please feel free to contact us.
>
>Thank you for using UPS Internet Services.

Successfully contacted me? Twice — unnamed supervisors promised, two days in row, to send a truck out and get this taken care of that very morning. Twice. No package. That's not what I would call effective problem resolution.

About two weeks ago, I got stuck in a loop with an e-mail client, and I had to recalculate the chart, due to some strange, unexplained error, three different times. I was reading part of the e-mail address as the birthday. So in theory, I lost money on that one deal, but the client closed her last e-mail with "but I still love you..." because I took the time to stop, and correct my mistakes. Go the extra mile, take the extra time to insure that the customer gets exactly what was ordered, what was specified. Too bad UPS can't do the same thing. And it's not even really busy yet.

There's a joke circulating the various rounds right now, "one Tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor...." I can safely report that one Virgo can easily consume at least four, and still refuse my attentions. Pretty amazing stuff, them Virgo's.

12/8
It's going to be a long a Xmas season, that's for sure. UPS has already mis-delivered one package. I was getting rather hopeful on Monday evening because the online tracking number said it was on their truck, in fact, my package had been in Austin since 3:58 AM, Monday morning. Great, another on time delivery from the folks in the brown suits. Nice try but wrong address. How can someone confuse "Riverside" with "Academy"? Then after haggling with the supervisor (I was still nice), the UPS representative suggested they would get a truck right over to fix the problem — I should have my package in the afternoon. I waited and waited, a supervisor called me back, and she said "we'll get right on it." I called later in the afternoon and got a snotty "Customer Service" person with a song and dance about "8 working days to track a package...." and all I could do was maintain some degree of composure, and said "thank you." UPS left a package, unsigned for, sitting on someone's doorstep. Someone else's doorstep. The first two digits of the address are the same, but the similarities end right there. So much for "customer service excellence," too, based on the responses I got on the phone.

I got detoured by a panic voice mail from Ma Wetzel, "Your sister just bought a [something something Fire Wire something Hard Drive something million gigabytes] for her computer! What are we going to do for Xmas?" I called back and left a message about "do not panic" because what we got her for Xmas was a, I forgot, Sister reads this some times. But it's not the same thing. Now, if Sister doesn't have the cable that I've got to plug it all in, then she doesn't have the biggest weenie in the family. But I was a nice brother, and I got that cable — just for her computer toys. To make matters even worse, I just shipped off some Xmas packages via UPS. I wonder how safe that is. Or, for that matter, the next set of network cables, the memory chip, and who knows what else? I would hate to think that I have to chase all over two South Austin Zip Codes in order to find my packages because UPS can't seem to get anything delivered correctly. I know a couple of Sagittarius folks over at FedEx, maybe I'll have to specify them. Their stuff always gets to me — on time, even, without leaving at some other address. But I'm not bitter, not yet.

12/7
>And I like the new site design, for what it's worth. Very time-saving. I
>suppose it looks like a daunting amount of text to some non-literate
>(illiterate?) types. You should be glad--it'll weed out the dumb ones.

So that was in the mail bag, and I took it as sign. "Sign of what?" Don't ask, I'm not sure. S. Fred Green, commonly referred to as Fredlet, was passing through Austin over the last weekend, and she did get pictures of the boots. I'm sure this will wind up on one of the web sites soon enough. While she rolling over on the couch and thinking about getting up, I directed her towards the bathroom, "Clean towel on that rack." "'Guy clean'? Or is it really clean?" Of course it was really clean — I think. We had a leisurely breakfast at Magnolia — for about the 4th or 5th time in as many days for me, then she was off to airport. The weather has turned quite cold, and that sort of stops any outside activity for me. Not that I'm a wimp or anything, but if I have to wear shoes, I have to wonder about it.

12/6
>Hi, just wanted to say that I have really enjoyed your sense of humor and
>obtuse weekly predictions the past few years. I am sorry they apparently
>are not to continue. Your curren, new(?) under construction(?)web site is
>too busy and incoherent to keep my interest...

It's all one spot, it's less not more. But enough of that whining I have to listen to from people unwilling to accept change.

I was getting ready for work the other evening, a corporate party type of thing, and I pulled on a pair of boots to go with what I was wearing. The Neighbor had a trailer guest over the weekend, a friendly lad from some godforsaken Midwestern university [he's an English teacher there, not a student] and this particular lad and I have discussed the finer points of certain authors of note, bemoaning the current state of literary awareness, and sharing thoughts about Texas as he was originally raised on a real ranch in South Texas, down in the Brush Country (c.f., J. Frank Dobie, et al). His eyes were already a little glazed when I saw him, perhaps it was due to a consumption of carbonated hops beverage, perhaps there were extenuating circumstances, but he nodded a hello, then his eyes fell on my boots. "Wow," he said with open lust in his voice, "what are those?" "Ant Eater. Lucchesse Ant Eater." "Wow." He had a look in his eyes, it's one I've seen before, but it is usually a drunken friend staring at a portion of a stripper's anatomy — and I'm sure that interest is strictly biological. My buddy was looking at my boots that way, open admiration, lust, in fact, I was a little worried he's knock me over and steal my boots. It's a first, for me, I mean, the boots are already on their second set of soles. I've never had my footwear lusted after....

12/5
Yesterday morning, still groggy from the night before, I took one look out the trailer's kitchen window, I saw what looked like rain on the ground and falling from the sky, and I hopped back in bed. Just made good sense. By the time I stirred from the trailer again, it was a bright and clear day, almost to my chagrin. I meant a friend for lunch at Threadgill's, but even in the late afternoon, the crowd spilled out into the street, so we hooked it on down to Magnolia where the crowd was much more manageable. Some would suggest that the food is better, too, but that's like comparing Apples and Grapefruit. But Magnolia does have its now famous homemade chocolate brownie with a couple of scoops of Vanilla Bean ice cream on it. Ice cream for me, and chocolate for her. To imagine, some folks think I'm not a thoughtful or considerate person. I ordered that dessert just for my friend. No, really.

12/4
The little party went off without a hitch. There was a torrent of regretful e-mail swinging down the pike yesterday morning, a number of folks were aghast that I was not in the paper. Write your congressman. Better yet, drop the editor a nice, polite line. I can only work with what I'm told to do. I spent the better part of yesterday working on a Scorpio friend's computer. That she is attractive (blond — "oh that's a surprise Kramer") is certainly a plus, but the part I like best is receiving adequate compensation for the hours spent wrestling with the machines. Of course, there was this fine little dance we would do. I would start to work on one machine, in would come a customer, and I would have to switch my toil to another machine while she did her commerce, then I would forget what I was doing, and work on the other machine, and then just about the time I got back to doing what I was supposed to be doing, the phone would ring, I would have to stand up and let her have the keyboard back again. And I've finally encountered someone with a lot more phones than I've got. It might just be the nature of her business, though — she cells sell phones. I think I need some coffee.

12/3
I'm worried. One particular Virgo has taken it upon herself to make sure that some sort of Austin "fête" is observed for my birthday. It's supposed to be this evening. I'm not exactly looking forward to this, but being the dutiful Sage that I am, I've sent out the requisite last minute invites. Of course, when a couple of "freelance" [ever notice that the term freelance is a nice way of saying "gainfully unemployed"?] people get together "after work," I have to wonder when "after work" really is. Yesterday, I called it a day at noon. Me and that Virgo went to pick up a carefully selected coffee table, one to replace what I've already got. The new one was assembled in record time, although, much to Virgo chagrin, I didn't clean the glass top before I installed it. It's a simple piece of furniture with a glass cover for a storage spot underneath. In there, I've put — near as I can tell — all my Tarot decks. Some of the card sets are visually stunning, some are rare and collectible, and some are worn out from years of use. In any case, it looks a lot better. I can display my cards — safely away from prying hands — under the glass. Late at night, I got a quick call from Fredlet, as she was passing through town — "Are you hungry?" We had a quick, late get together at Magnolia. "Shiner Bock and Carrot Cake at Magnolia, doesn't get any better than this."

12/2
I've spent the last few days, now that Mercury is no longer in an apparent retrograde trajectory, sorting out many niggling little computer problems, getting around to some updates, and looking for another backpack to carry the trusty PowerBook in. I did get the latest ghost writing column in under the wire, but I sure hope the copy editor is in better shape than I was in when I finally got it all done. Talk about getting something done just in time. "Deadlines amuse me." Along with some of the software updates, I added a little timer window so I could see how much of my "unlimited" time I'm using. It's scary. A decent Virgo rescued me from the evil grips of my computer screen long enough to grab a Frito Pie at the Texas Chili Parlor. Real chunks of beef swimming in a stew of spices, yes, no wonder it's a classic. Then, while I was waiting for the latest version of Quick Time to slide down the virtual vacuum tube, the e-mail beeped again, and another nice Virgo sent me a gift certificate for Amazon Dot UK. In a few days, my whole attitude will be improved because I'll have a new bit of British Science Fiction Fantasy Dark Comedy in my hands. Oh yes. I love this one author who seems to be completely unavailable here in the states, except in rare and rather expensive versions, usually years after the original British publication date. I haven't got a real handle on it yet, either my attraction to the bleak, British black humor, or why books published over yonder always feel more substantial than their American counterpart. But in a few days, I'll be treated to some more of it. Oh yes. In the meantime, I'm stuck in a whorehouse with a Cormac McCarthy character as I'm just finishing up the last part of his Border Trilogy, which, given the recent news clips, seems to be that much more appropriate.

12/1
There's always one, one who has to complain that the scopes ain't easy enough to read, the print is too small, or it is too big, or something. "The color is all wrong." So far, though, no one who complained has offered to make my life any easier by designing, updating, and handling ALL the chores associated with running a web page. The boys in the backroom are okay, but they complain bitterly about anything which resembles honest labor. Or dishonest labor, depending on your view. I skated down town yesterday afternoon to tend to some mundane business matters, and in the wan winter light, I felt a little out of place in shorts. Or better yet, sipping a corporate egg nog latté from a particular coffee place I would tend to avoid. I guess it's just a little too early for this particular brand of drink, though, because it didn't seem quite as sweet as I remember it. Maybe I need to let the season get fully ramped up. Wearing an "Xmas in Texas" shirt was a nice try, but it didn't cheer my spirits as much as that lame latté. Could be me, though, far too much time in front of a computer screen this week, already.