High Winds Swirling...

I don't want to get all technical like the National Weather Service, but I think we're in for a blustery day!

I got up to let the dogs out and noticed the trees in the back yard swooshing from side to side and felt an immediate gust of air blow into the little dog's face. She ran out into the year to investigate. The cover of my grill had actually lifted up like a parachute waiting for just another gust of wind to pull off the ground and lift the grill forward the same way you see an inexperienced jumper getting dragged across a landing zone. And of all things, my wife's wind mill hand blown completely over on the side. I suppose not staking it down so I could easily move it while mowing was a mistake.

With all the recent tornado activity in the mid-west, I suppose the wildly conflicting tunes of our eight different sets of wind chimes hanging from trees and hooks is a minor irritant that I can live with at 5 in the morning.

Of course, a huge gust of wind blew the back door wide open because Gracie forgot to shut it, and that caused Panda to freak out just a little. I'm sure the neighbor behind me appreciated the wake-up call.

Gracie & Panda

I guess it's like the movie stars all say...dogs and kids steal the show. I yammer on about San Antonio and our HOA, but I get lots of great e-mail about our dog Gracie. So it is only fair that Panda, Gracie's little sister should get a picture posted.

This picture shows "the girls" or "the big dog and little doggy" as we call them sitting patiently by the stairs waiting for me to lift the gate so they can run upstairs and look for a spot near the bed.

Anyway, you can see from the "before" picture why we think Grace looks so funny with her hair all shaved off. And she looks a lot smaller without the mop of hair.

Gracie Gets a new Hair Style

We took Gracie to a new hair stylist Friday and have been giggling at her new appearance since. We have been through a few different pet groomers and it has been hit or miss, but we were very pleased with how the folks at Kay's Kutz took our very shaggy dog and gave her quite a nice shave down. And the important thing is, she did not come back traumatized by the visit. We had a abad experience with a different groomer last year that left Gracie skiddish for quite some time.

If this doesn't make you giggle, I don't know what will!

HOA Election Update...

Sadly, my neighbor Eric was not among the winners of the board election for the Home Owners Association. He gives details of the "brutal" meeting over in his blog.

It ought to be interesting to see if this Guy D. Pucci character will settle his lawsuit with the HOA now that he is part of the leadership. That would be a first step in perhaps easing some of the distrust between the factions.

If you have any information worth reporting, e-mail me.

Part Two: More about Silver Creek 78250

When we first moved into our home in Silver Creek we got a visit from one of the community security officers. The house next door to us was vacant, but the owner had not yet put it on the market. He would come by weekly to mow the yard and check on things, and this time around, he found that someone had defaced the sidewalk.

At the time, both my kids were in middle school at Connally, and apparently, that was enough to trigger suspicion that my kids could be the culprits. I never did harbor any ill feelings toward the neighbor or security for jumping to such a conclusion; after all, we were new people moving in from “the barrio” where graffiti is as common as stray dogs. But make no mistake, graffiti is not something that I would ever take lightly, and my kids know it. And once the security officer and the neighbor next door had a chance to meet me and my family, they knew it was not related to us.

But that little incident left me with mixed emotions regarding the new ‘hood. First, some dumbass kids were out there writing graffiti on the sidewalks, which was very much part of the reason we moved. On the other hand, instead of me having to be the “lone ranger” dealing with it by confronting little hood rats on my own, there were security people on the job, which made me pretty happy. And as I posted earlier, the whole Home Owner Association and all the order and such that comes with it was a big factor in why we selected Silver Creek.

I recall seeing a story on the news years ago about how some guy had painted his house this bizarre shade of green – like chartreuse or something. The HOA took his ass to court and threatened to seize his property if he didn’t come to his senses and paint his house a normal color.

But “normal”, by whose standards? Yes, it is a double-edged sword, but I know what side I’m gonna be on if my neighbor up and paints his house in some psychedelic color pattern.

Another HOA tried to sue a lady who painted a US flag on her garage door. Hey, I’m as patriotic as the next guy and we fly both the US and Texas flags at our house, but your garage door needs to look like a garage door, not some wall mural in the center of the projects.

So anyway, I’ve taken a pretty long way around the barn, as John Wayne might say, to make it clear that I’m a big fan of the idea of an HOA. So you’d think that I would attend the monthly meetings or participate in some way. But I don’t. And other than sending a check every month and seeing the security patrol driving up and down my street several times a day and night, I am totally oblivious to what these people do with my money. As long as there are no chickens running in the neighbor’s yard, no psychodelic colored paint schemes and no graffiti on my sidewalk, I am one happy camper.

But apparently, not everyone else feels the same way I do.

The Great Northwest which is the bigger umbrella community of which Silver Creek is just one participating sub-division, has an “official” newspaper, an “official” web site, and, imagine this, a competing “unofficial” newspaper and “unofficial” web site. Further, it turns out that the board of directors of the HOA is made up of two factions who apparently have an ongoing feud like the Hatfield’s and the McCoy’s.

So, I try to keep up on community events by reading the propaganda issued by both factions, and frankly, it is clear that we have a lot of cranky people involved, but other than one group is offended by the other group, I hadn’t found a whole lot of substance to what the complaints were.

That was until I read some of the materials printed by the “unofficial” faction. According to their own propaganda, this one guy, who I should note is a candidate for one of the board of director positions, has an ongoing lawsuit against the HOA. Okay, I’m not sure what my HOA did to piss this guy off, but I know now that not only is he suing them, he wants me to vote for him so he can replace them. And then what - drop his lawsuit?

It gets better.

And this is based on the literature provided by this guy’s own team. The man in question, one Guy D. Pucci, has already spent $60,000.00 on the lawsuit against the HOA that he wants to sit on the board of.

WTF?

Let me get this right. This man has spent $60K of his own money in such a frivolous manner (my opinion), and now he wants me to trust him with my portion of the HOA assets? The hell you say.

Sir, if you have $60,000.00 lying around in an envelope under the mattress and you suddenly don’t like the people running the HOA, that kind of cash would make a good down payment on a house in a much better neighborhood than this one!

Good God, Mr. Pucci! Did you win the lottery and suddenly go nuts like all the other people who win huge prizes? What’s next; fully functioning quarter scale matching Lamborghini’s for the grandkids?

I am a guy who does a lot of things purely for the principal of it, but forgive me if my jaw drops in your general direction.

So, my next door neighbor, a very reasonable, smart thinking person recognizing that this little feud is going to carry on until some new blood can get involved to offer a change in point of view, has selflessly accepted the nomination of the people on our street to run for one of the board positions.

I hope he gets elected.

But if he does, I hope the Hatfield’s and the McCoy’s don’t take it out on our street by purchasing $60,000.00 worth of spray paint and turning it into a graffiti covered gang zone.

I’ll let you know what happens. If you live in Silver Creek and would like to offer your point of view, or if you have an HOA story of your own, e-mail me.

Weekend Trip to San Antonio!

This may come as a shock, but finding a hotel room in downtown San Antonio for the last weekend in April is not really easy. And we figured this out years ago the first time my wife had the bright idea of taking a mini-vacation without leaving town.

Years ago, we found a hotel that met all of our requirements: an indoor pool, an in-room Jacuzzi, a manager’s reception (read: free drinks) and free breakfast. At the time, the hotel was called the Executive Guest Haus, and I think it was about $89.00 for the night.

Later, the hotel changed owners and I believe the Clarion folks called it the Atrium. Now, after being closed for two years, our little getaway hotel is called the Hilton Garden Inn and it is just south of Bitters on 281 North.

A few things have changed since our first visit – for one, we no longer require the use of the indoor pool allowing some body-modesty issues to rule out what would surely be a refreshing swim in the pool, visible to anyone seeking to admire the beautiful open atrium of the hotel. I suspect if you stayed there, you’d thank me for that.

Another thing is, they smartly installed an actual bar into the hotel rather than some guy serving keg beer and boxed wine from a little pushcart. Though it seems small at first glance, patrons can sit anywhere in the lobby to enjoy their drinks in private on the comfortable variety of sofas and chairs or at tables with a good view of the nice flat screen High-Def TVs. We opted to sit at the bar for a quick drink or two. I’ll get back to the bar n a moment.

The rooms have been upgraded to include quite possibly the most comfortable bed I have ever slept on. We were so impressed with the comfort that we pulled the linens off to look for a tag and found that it was one of those sleep systems that allows you to change the settings for softer or firmer etc. I’m guessing it was set to “Perfect” because, without sounding like some paid spokesman, it was really that good. Oh, I did Google it once we got home and I suspect that for the mattress, the platform, the mattress cover and the pillows, we were sleeping on a $2,500 .00 bed. And that was just the sleep system itself, not the really nicely done headboard. My wife is saving for ours now.

There was one disappointing change to the room though. Originally, the Jacuzzi tub had openings on both the bathroom side and the bedroom side. This allowed for sitting in the tub and soaking while watching TV. I’m going to guess that the Hilton folks just assumed nobody would be interested in watching TV from a Jacuzzi. They don’t know me!

So our original plan called for finding a nice place to have dinner close by, back to the hotel for drinks and then breakfast in the morning at The Magnolia Pancake Haus. However, when the manager gave us some coupons good toward the purchase of dinner, drinks or breakfast, we opted to try the restaurant in the hotel. I’ll take cheap over romantic any day of the week – and this made our dinner just about free.

As I mentioned earlier, we opted to sit at the bar to have a drink. My wife is fond of a thing called a Bahama Mama, which roughly equates to three types of rum, some grenadine and some juice. Our bartender, Vito, a fairly new barkeep had never heard of such nonsense, but was quick to look it up and take a stab at one. In minutes, my wife was sipping away on the festive novelty, though it lacked the customary little umbrella.

When we walked into the bar, there were already two people who had just finished work at Luby’s, and quite possibly just finished a “Doobie”. They were sharing a beer and a burger, and aside from the female having the word “CRAZY” conveniently tattooed on her arm as a warning, we would have figured it out even if she had not removed her Luby’s smock in favor of the more casual wife-beater T-shirt she was wearing. Hey, I dig a chick in a wife-beater; I just prefer to see it on “COPS”, not sitting next to my bride at a quiet hotel bar.

Anyway, and please, don’t let this little tangent take away from the overall good atmosphere of the Hilton Garden Inn; it was slightly amusing but more disheartening to observe this young girl make an ass of herself in public. I’m no prude and have imbibed to excess more than once, but this girl was proof positive that smoking dope then drinking beer should not be done in public. Put it this way, the bar only opened at 5PM and our trusty bartender refused to serve her another beer before it was 6. I could prattle on about this, but I’ll save the calls for mass sobriety to our friends at DARE.

The burger the folks next to us had looked really good and even though the menu had a wide selection of normal foods to choose from – steak, chicken alfredo, etc., we both opted to go for the custom burger with steak fries. I ordered mine with grilled onions, mushrooms, three different cheeses topped with bacon. My wife had the same, minus the ‘shrooms. Service was reasonably quick and, though I am only guessing that these were the instant HEB-like microwave patties, the burgers were thick, the buns were fresh and toasted, and they received my “Tasty Treat” seal of approval.

I’ll skip further details of our evening having adequately reported on the quality of the bed earlier, but I do have to slip in this one detail, which I found entertaining.

I have seen my fair share of hotels around the country as a result of traveling with my job. I have also seen those news-entertainment shows like 20/20 and Dateline NBC where they take the hotel linens to a lab only to find evidence of fecal matter and semen everywhere from the coffee pot to the remote control. I generally have to put this out of my mind in order to sleep. I simply pretend that either I am the first person to sleep in the room or if not, the well-paid housekeeping staff has washed everything in bleach, wiped everything that won’t fit in the washing machine with bleach, then used one of those CSI-like black lights to ensure that no remnants of personal bodily function or fluid has remained beyond the last tenants visit.

So, solidly living in fantasyland of perfectly pristine comfort, and having consumed several large beers from the aforementioned hotel bar, I was amused rather than disgusted to see a shade of faded brown on one of the towels in our room. Now surely this stain was as innocent as someone spilling a cup of hot black coffee as they came out of the shower and reaching for towel wrapped around their body so as to avoid any McDonald’s like lawsuit for burns in an uncomfortable and embarrassing area. I was willing to believe that, but I was not willing to take a chance by using the towel. Naturally, I gave that one to my wife.

But, she insisted I seek a different arrangement and so when I went back down to see Vito the barkeep for a spoon (my wife had a parfait she wanted to eat), I asked for some fresh towels as well. Vito was all too accommodating and I generously tipped him for his service.

So, Monday I had taken off from work and we decided to start our day with the long anticipated trip to the Magnolia Pancake Haus. First, by the appearance of the place, you can tell that the owners are really interested in an enjoyable atmosphere. Though the restaurant is actually located on an end slot of a strip center, they went out of their way to build a façade including columns, outdoor seating to accommodate people who my have to wait for a table, and a really crisp paint scheme to give it the feel of an older place in the country rather than a shop located in busy Embassy Oaks.

Right away, friendly staff seated us and I couldn’t help but notice the various plates of breakfast being brought out to the other patrons. Everything looked excellent, and the smell of the place was wonderful. I knew for sure that I wanted to have buttermilk pancakes and my wife was certain that she would be ordering the pecan pancakes. But believe me, the full menu will make you question your initial selection because everything sounds so appetizing.

Just as we were about to order, the gentleman seated in the booth behind us got his order. Against my better judgment, I decided on the spot to have whatever he was having, which turned out to be corned beef hash. I won’t lie here. It was not something I would order again, mostly because my idea of hash involves a can of Hormel with diced potatoes rather than shreds. But having said that, it was not bad and I was glad I tried them. The good news is, my the corned beef hash comes with a side of buttermilk pancakes and they were awesome. And as promised, my wife found her pecan pancakes to be the heaven that her friends had described. All in all, great stuff and I know we will visit again, if not for breakfast, but to give their lunch a try.

I know it is an Internet Rant cliché to go on about people and their cell phones in restaurants and such, but this little incident was worth passing along (at least I think so). First, as we were waiting for our breakfast, a frumpy looking gentleman with gray unkempt hair walked in and was seated about four booths away from us. Almost immediately, his obnoxiously loud cell phone rang and thankfully, he was able to answer it on about the fifth ring. If this wasn’t distracting enough, he began a lively conversation using an accent that sounded half-British and half-Australian. I should know, I lived in England for some time, and I’ve seen the Crocodile Hunter show (may he rest in peace). Anyway, the fact that it sounded awkward makes me think the guy was just faking it to impress other diners. “Oh, look at me, I’m British, or maybe I’m Aussie, I just don’t know which.”

So just after our food arrived and we were digging into it, the gentleman behind us (the guy who prompted me to order the hash) decided that he needed a new ring tone for his cell phone. And then he promptly played every ring tone on his phone until he found something he liked. The funny thing was, he was completely undeterred by my wife proclaiming, “You have got to be shitting me” at full volume and with no embarrassment whatsoever.

That was actually a perfect ending to our little getaway trip to celebrate our 22^nd anniversary. Like many others, we did encounter the most incredible torrential downpour on our trip back to 78250. In fact, I honestly thought that I was going to float away in the left hand lane (the fast lane) of Loop 410 at Callahan. What idiot designed a highway that can amass 2 feet of water in the fast lane?

How was your weekend? E-mail me and tell me about your adventure in San Antonio.

Sid Reports: Fiesta Flambeau

Our correspondent Sid Seidenberger writes about his trip with friends to this year’s Fiesta Flambeau, proving that being a schoolteacher can sometimes have quite a Fiesta Bonus!

It has been years since I last attended the Fiesta Flambeau night parade, but this year a couple of good friends, Patti and Al, both from Mission Trace, and I decided to go.

As veterans of many parades, we had the drill down pat: comfortable shoes, shorts, festive shirts, and adventurous Fiesta spirits (lively enthusiasm, that is, not libations, of course!).

The three of us are quite left-brained, concrete- sequential type personalities, and this was more or less (probably more) a spontaneous decision to attend the parade. In the past, I have attended the Fiesta parades and enjoyed viewing them from seats I had bought months earlier, as expected of a man with a plan left-brainer. This year, we had no seats, had no idea where we'd wind up in the parade route, no idea where we'd park, and still we bravely set out to make our way to the Fiesta parade with the largest attendance of all according to the records. (It must be hard counting heads from that helicopter hovering above the parade spectators!)

Traveling from Mission Trace and then down Interstate-10 to downtown was a breeze... until we hit we hit the Interstate-35 North exit. It was " worse back" up than "Wurzbach" traffic, to which we are daily accustomed to battling. We quickly averted the traffic cluster by staying on IH-10 until we made it to the Durango exit, which was also clogged by parade bound motorists, so we exited at the next intersection, did a turn-around, and made our way into the downtown area via Flores Street.

Once we made it to the area by Fox Tech High School, we encountered parking lot after parking lot with frown inducing entrance signs stating: LOT FULL. Ready to almost give up, we had a great idea! Why not valet park at the lot of one of the high-end, upscale downtown hotels (which shall remain nameless for obvious reasons)? Yes! Problem solved! You see, there are some fringe benefits to being a teacher; I have several former students working at this unnamed hotel as guest parking attendants, so they have always told me they will "hook me up" with parking anytime needed. If ever I needed one single, solitary slot in which to park, it was on this evening of ubiquitous LOT FULL signs.

Patti, Al, and I walked away from the valet parking entry of the hotel, and I felt as privileged as King Antonio himself, having handed over my keys and car to my former student, who was so pleased to accommodate us. I felt like a V.I.P. getting my car parked among the other Official Fiesta Vehicles. Of course I had no signs like these on my car, only the usual pings, dings, and scratches.

Having successfully parked, Patti, Al, and I realized the next hurdle to jump was finding either bleacher seats or street chairs. The thought of standing for an entire parade is not appealing, so we questioned every parade usher (easy to spot because of the lime green baseball caps supplied by the Fiesta Commission) as to the possibility of purchasing seats. We kept getting the response "all sold out,” so we were resigned to the fact that we would be standing!

Then we came upon a section of street seats unoccupied and figured we'd just sit down until the ticket holders arrived. As we began to shimmy down the row, a brightly fiesta attired lady with a flower and ribbon head wreath, looked puzzlingly at us as we sat, and she said these seats were hers. We were caught red-handed and red faced, but she quickly assured us that it was not a problem because her guests were not able to attend. She asked if we wished to purchase the seats, we said indeed we did, and then we were able to rightfully sit in the chairs with tickets in our possession!

Relieved to be legally seated, the Mission Trace trio felt victorious in acquiring not only primo parking but also choice chairs in the second row! What luck! With this winning track record for the evening, what could possibly go wrong?

It seemed an eternity before the parade actually made its way to our location on Third Avenue between Broadway and Alamo. As we waited, the kindly lady who sold us her extra seats took out a big blue zippered picnic tote, opened it, and was handing her family members foil wrapped tacos. Jokingly, I asked her if the tacos came with the purchase price of our seat tickets. She laughed, her lace lit up with a big grin, and the next thing I knew, her son (seated next to me) handed me three tacos, salsa, and napkins. Overcome with surprise, I looked down the row at this gracious lady who smiled at me. She said, "Please enjoy them. Happy Fiesta!" We quickly devoured the delicious, tasty tacos and gave our thanks not only for the seats, but also the treats!

Finally, the parade commenced with the motorcycle cops heralding its beginning. Shortly thereafter, the usual dignitaries including Mayor Hardberger and King Antonio came waving at the spectators. Suddenly we heard loud hollering and thunderous applause for the Grand Marshal, the one and only heart throb of "Dancing with the Stars" and the former star of "Saved by the Bell"... Mario Lopez!

The usual fiesta parade floats followed super Mario with queens and princesses, marching bands, twirlers, dancers, and lots of frustratingly long lulls.... and then a drenching downpour! Yes, there was a dark cloud over our auspicious experience, the heavens opened up, and happy parade revelers scrambled as fast as their fleet-footed Fiesta feet could carry them to seek cover from the rain.

Mother Nature drew a quick, unexpected close to the 2007 Fiesta Flambeau Parade. She reigned over the evening as the most powerful of all the Fiesta queens that night, but she did not dampen the indomitable spirit of San Antonio.

The Mission Trace trio trekked our way through the infernal puddles left by the showers and amidst the trash and rubble left by the crowds and headed back to the hotel parking lot. We were disappointed that the rain ended our Fiesta fun, but we were still talking about the touching generosity and thoughtfulness of the real queen of the event, the lovely flower and ribbon wreath crowned lady who sold us her extra tickets and fed us, too. There are still truly nice people left in this world!

Do you have a Fiesta event to report? Feel free to e-mail me.