The Battle of Wounded Knee

The Battle of Wounded Knee

 

The wife is in Louisiana touring the old plantation homes with a half dozen or so of her college buds until Saturday. I don’t really like staying at home by myself that long, but she comes home in a good mood, I get a new t-shirt, and I get those “husband points” that are redeemable when I screw up, which is usually soon after her homecoming. The other bad thing is that I’m running around like bat out of Hades pickin’ up Coke bottles, taking multiple bags of trash to the top of the drive, and crammin’ all the junk I’ve acquired into every nook and cranny in my two warehouses and cargo trailer, which are already full.

 

The last two days I spent helping with an estate sale. It was a smaller one, so I don’t get paid in cash. However, I get to pick the carcass when it’s over. This is not as bad a deal as it seems. Yes, I haul away crap that no one would take. Thanks to my superior packing skills, most of it ends up blowing out the back of the truck on the way home. The upside is that I don’t have to worry about tailgaters.

 

When this sale was complete, there were six Hummel figurines left, with a book value of anywhere from 90 to 180 bucks apiece. We had been trying to sell three for 100 apiece and three for 50. Four sold beforehand, so the six were left. The lady that has taken me on as an apprentice had been asked to call a woman when it was over and that she may buy what was left. She did, and the woman tried to low-ball her, saying she couldn’t pay more than 25 apiece for them because blah, blah, and blah. My friend then asked the owner of the estate what she wanted to do with them. She wanted the stuff out, and said to go ahead and sell them for 25 apiece. Then they looked at me and asked if I wanted to buy them for that. With a total book value of between 600 and 700, 150 I could manage.

 

One of the most interesting items was a large sketch of the “chicken ranch” that once existed in LaGrange, Texas. If you ever listen to ZZTopp, they have a song about it. Chickens were not what was being sold at said establishment, for it was a brothel. The sketch was signed by Burt Reynolds and Dolly Partain, who starred in the movie, “Best Little Whore House in Texas”. It sold for $180, and was one of the first sales of the day.

 

I also ended up with two very old oil paintings from Munich that I need to research. They were priced so high that they didn’t sell at half price. They gave them to me. So in reality, I was paid well. The fact that I would help for free because I enjoy it makes anything I get a bonus.

 

The Battle of Wounded Knee? The Friday before the sale started, I got to come over early and get what I wanted for 20% off. I bought about three hundred dollars worth of stuff to resell. One of the things I bought was a very old wrought iron outdoor chaise lounge with rubber wheels still intact. I paid $35.00 for it, and it is a given that it will bring at least four times that. It wasn’t that heavy, but it was awkward to carry alone.

 

Another thing cool about this house was that it had a beautifully landscaped back yard; complete with one of the nicest pools I’ve ever seen.

 

As I was carrying this lounge to the truck via the back gate, I had to pass by the pool. I have no clue as to what happened exactly, but I lost my balance. I think my Crocs were somehow involved, but don’t know for sure.

 

So, as every good captain, I went down with the ship, or in this instance, the chair. Now, I could have let go had the thing not folded up on me, locking my fingers to the doomed piece of furniture. It was surreal. It happened so fast, I never had a chance to close my eyes. All I know is that in an instant, I was half submerged in the pool along with the lounge. Now, it was the shallow end, so I landed on my knees, and the half of me that actually went in was from the waist UP. So there I was, looking around in the pool, locked to a piece of furniture. I thought of many things. I remember them clearly.

 

First, I came to the realization that I was indeed looking around underwater. Then when I tried to pull myself up, my fingers didn’t want to come with me. So, this was how my life would end . . . with me on my knees, butt stuck up in the air, and fingers wedged in between two parts of a $35 chair. Looking back, it really would have been an appropriate way to go out.

 

However, I pulled my fingers loose, leaving large amounts of skin with the lounge, and pulled myself from the water, gasping for breath. Immediately, I heard some serious laughter behind me. I was assured it had only begun after it was clear I was safe, but I ain’t so sure.

 

So, in the end, all I lost was the use of my left knee, skin from the same knee and a few of my fingers, and what little dignity I had left.

 

This is TexasTwister, blogging from the Jacques Yves Cousteau School of Furniture Transport. . .

 

Posted by TexasTwister55 @ 5:24 pm EDT | Permalink | 4 Comments

In the Name of Progress

In the Name of Progress

 

McKinney, Texas is just a segment of the sprawling metropolis of Dallas. I had never really even heard of it until around three years ago. You see, I think I was born to yearn for the past. The good old days are a myth; as every generation has faced strife and turmoil in some form or fashion. However, there is truth to the notion that life was simpler, integrity was of a higher value, and it was easier to live life at a less frantic pace.

 

Three years ago, I found a piece of yesterday buried in North Texas, an island in the sea of the present. In the heart of McKinney, there is a town square. In the center is a courthouse, and great care and effort had been made by the people to preserve that little piece of the past in order to allow visitors to peek through a window to garner a glimpse into those simpler times.

 

The driving force of this effort was the owner of “Clyde’s on the Square”. Over twenty years ago he opened this shop and was the first person to really have the vision of McKinney’s potential. When I arrived three years ago, his was the first shop I visited, as I had been told that it was “my kind of place.” My source knows me well. Two stories of treasures. None of those fancy European armoires that wouldn’t begin to fit into my house were to be found. I’m talking aisle after aisle of primitives and just pure junk. There was an older man seated at the throne of this junker’s paradise. Killis had a sign on the counter that stated, “No, I’m not Clyde. I’m Killis, the good lookin’ one”. He happens to be Clyde’s father-in-law. He is one of the finest fellows I’ve ever met. Although he has a gruff exterior and a wit dryer than a Texas drought, it doesn’t take long to see that it’s all part of the show. He does tell it how he sees it, and he is cantankerous, but where it counts, he’s as good as gold.

 

Clyde is not as feisty, but he is as genuine a person as you would hope to meet. He’d give you the shirt off his back, and in many instances he has done so for me. The real people of McKinney, the ones who have followed his lead to preserve the past, know the sacrifices he has made for the town.

 

I fell in love with McKinney, and Clyde’s in particular. Four and a half hours from home, but I had to be a part of that history. There were no spaces available, but I did get into one of the many antique malls on the square. It wasn’t Clyde’s, but it gave me a reason to make the drive at least once a month.

 

Three weeks after I moved in, I was informed that the building had been sold and I had 30 days to vacate. Little did I know, I was witnessing the beginning of “progress”. I moved into another store in a better location, which was meant to be as far as I’m concerned. You see, the owners became two great friends. In fact, although they will never read this, I’m sitting in their living room at this very moment. We have stayed with them on every single trip.

 

A few moths later, a shop closes. Then the domino effect seems to kick in. It turns out that one man and a group of backers have decided that the town needs “diversity, so they have proceeded to buy up buildings and either immediately transform them into coffee shops, boutiques and the like, or they have raised the rents on the owners so that the owners have been forced to increase dealer rents to the point that the dealers have moved on.

 

In the name of progress, a piece of history is slowly transforming into something that looks and feels no different than the rest of today’s world.

 

The final blow came a little over two months ago when Clyde told me he, too, had sold his building, and that it would no longer be an antiquer’s paradise. I would have sold as well. It was his time to move on, not to mention that the building he bought over twenty years ago for five figures sold for seven. I would have done the same.

 

So, outside sits a trailer filled with the little pieces I own from this victim of progress. Among the boxes is a sign that states, “Over Twenty Shops Upstairs.” On the back are Clyde’s signature and the date. Next to it is the signature of Killis and the words, “same date”.

 

All in the Name of Progress. . .

 

Posted by TexasTwister55 @ 8:59 am EDT | Permalink | 2 Comments

My Summer Vacation

I don’t know about you, but I think I had to write about that at least two or three times in elementary school. Joyous assignment. Let’s see, we have no money, so I basically did hmmm . . . oh, yeah; now I remember! NOTHING. That is, unless you consider sweating your butt off in a house and car with no a/c a spa experience. Clears the pores, ya’ know? Then there were the 700 mile trips to visit my grandparents in Tupelo, Mississippi in that same car. May have contributed to the knock-down drag-outs my sister and I had over territorial rights in the back seat. I know if you have siblings or kids, you’ve heard the “don’t cross that line” gig. My dad was a master at driving with one hand on the wheel and whackin’ on mostly me for some reason. Never took his eyes off the road. He’s a relatively short guy, but I swear he could hang that arm out the window, reach the trunk, and open it without leaving his seat. Being that he was usually stuck to it, I imagine he had practice.

Forty years later, has anything changed? Well, my dad is 74 and has lost most of his Stretch Armstrong powers. My girls are married and on their own. But my summers are just about as uneventful as ever. Gas is liquid gold, and the donkey I bought goes 0 to 5 in around 45 minutes. Doesn’t like it when I forget and try to ram that gas pump nozzle up his keester, either. I suppose that’s a good sign.

I did just get back from a road trip to buy stuff for the shops. Took about a grand and came home with $58.23. The good thing is that when you have two loads of stuff in one pick-up, tailgating is a non-issue.

I’m finally getting an asphalt driveway. Ours is about 200 yards long; lowest quote was 18 grand. It was starting to look like a scale model of the Grand Canyon. The Jehovah’s Witnesses actually stopped leaving their little fire-starters on my door. UPS would hang stuff I ordered from trees in plastic bags rather than risk losing oil pans and such. How many people do you know that check the trees for parcel delivery?

Moving on, a friend of my daughters is doing the job for cost. I can finally knock the dents from the roof of my cab where I’ve bounced up and given myself multiple concussions.

Haven’t had to mow the grass. Seems it doesn’t grow very well in a drought with 100 degree temperatures day after day after day . . . I guess I could bale it and feed the donkey. May make him forget the gas pump incident.

I have a dentist appointment tomorrow to get my teeth cleaned and have a BABY tooth looked at that is over 50 years old. She wants to do an implant. One freakin’ tooth – 1.5 grand. I got a dime for the rest of 'em from the tooth fairy. I’m gonna lobby for a partial or a bridge. If that doesn’t work, I’ve found you can wedge a Chiclet in the space. . .

And finally, I had the honor of helping my wife pick out new furnishings for the living room. You know, that’s when they get ticked if you say you don’t care, and then after you reluctantly give your input, they go ahead and do what they want.

And that has been my summer.
The End

P.S. Teacher, I got this bow legged donkey with a bad temper illegally parked outside. . .

 

Posted by TexasTwister55 @ 11:31 pm EDT | Permalink | 3 Comments

Late Again?

Nearly One-in-four Workers Admit to Making up Fake Excuses for Arriving Late to Work, CareerBuilder.com Survey Finds

Hiring Managers Share Top Ten Most Outrageous Excuses

CHICAGO, April 9, 2008 - If the minutes on the clock seem to fly by in the morning as you frantically run around collecting your keys, getting your kids out the door and grabbing your bills to make it to work on time, you’re not alone. According to a recent CareerBuilder.com survey, 15 percent of workers say they arrive late to work at least once a week, while nearly one-in-four of all workers (24 percent) admit to making up fake excuses to explain their tardiness. The CareerBuilder.com survey, "Late to Work," was conducted from February 11 through March 13, 2008 among 2,757 employers and 6,987 workers.

"Although flexible schedules are more common in the workplace these days, it is still important for employees to be mindful of their arrival times," said Rosemary Haefner, vice president of Human Resources for CareerBuilder.com. "Consistently showing up late can affect how others in the company view your work ethic and discipline, as well as affect your productivity."

While 43 percent of hiring managers say they don’t mind if their employees are late as long as their work is completed on time with good quality, others are much stricter, and would consider terminating an employee if he or she arrives late several times a year.

When asked to identify the primary cause for coming in late, more than 32 percent of workers claimed traffic was the culprit. Falling back asleep was the reason cited by 17 percent, while 7 percent pointed to a long commute as the main cause. Other popular reasons included getting kids ready for school and daycare, forgetting something at home and feeling sick.

While the majority of hiring managers believe their employees’ reasons for being late to work, more than 27 percent say they are skeptical of the excuses.

Hiring managers provided the following top ten examples of the most unusual excuses employees offered for arriving late to work:
1. While rowing across the river to work, I got lost in the fog.
2. Someone stole all my daffodils.
3. I had to go audition for American Idol.
4. My ex-husband stole my car so I couldn’t drive to work.
5. My route to work was shut down by a Presidential motorcade.
6. I wasn’t thinking and accidentally went to my old job.
7. I was indicted for securities fraud this morning.
8. The line was too long at Starbucks.
9. I was trying to get my gun back from the police.
10. I didn’t have money for gas because all of the pawn shops were closed.

Survey Methodology
This survey was conducted online within the U.S. by Harris Interactive on behalf of CareerBuilder.com among 2,757 hiring managers and human resource professionals (employed full-time; not self-employed; with at least significant involvement in hiring decisions); and 6,987 U.S. employees (employed full-time; not self-employed) ages 18 and over between February 11, and March 13, 2008, respectively (percentages for some questions are based on a subset U.S. employers, based on their responses to certain questions). With a pure probability sample of 2,757 and 6,987, one could say with a 95 percent probability that the overall results have a sampling error of +/- 1.9 percentage points and +/- 1.2 percentage points, respectively. Sampling error for data from sub-samples is higher and varies.

Posted by TexasTwister55 @ 7:49 pm EDT | Permalink | 4 Comments

Have a Great Wednesday!

God Has Kept Me Here For A Reason
Repeat after me: God has kept me here for a reason. I survived because
He has a plan for me. All my bad relationships, the addictions, the
consequences, the bad credit, the repossessions, the death of my
loved ones, the back stabbing from my friends, the negative thoughts, or
the lack of support; I made it because I am blessed!
I release and let go of all past hurts, misunderstandings and grudges
because I am abundantly blessed! I recognize them as the illusions
they are, and sent from the enemy to kill my spirit, steal my joy, and
destroy my faith;
For God is all there is. All else is a lie! Now give
yourself a hug, wipe your tears away and walk in victory!!!!!!!! I love
you, but more appropriately God loves you BEST! Be blessed and know
that you are at one with THE SPIRIT OF THE LIVING GOD! And may the
Lord keep watch between you and me when we are away from each other.
Genesis 31:49. Amen!

Posted by TexasTwister55 @ 9:50 am EDT | Permalink | 5 Comments