Ad Libbing

Does this happen to you?

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 15:32:00 +0000

You're barreling down the road, and you see a car wanting to turn from a side street into traffic. You watch, and watch, and watch, wondering if he/she is going to nudge out and turn in front of you, and just when you think he/she has decided to wait until after you pass THEY PULL OUT INTO TRAFFIC AT THE LAST SECOND!
And you say to yourself: Why did they wait so long? Why didn't they go earlier?

And then you realize: WAIT! I do the SAME DAMNED THING!

Why is that? Why do we wait so long to turn into traffic?

At any rate, I'm guessing this is not a human-only thing. Look at all the road kill.

Insomnia on Coconut Dr.

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 07:18:00 +0000

Yep. I'm posting this at 3:10 a.m.
For some reason I am programmed to wake up at 3 a.m. for days at a time. It can last for a week or two weeks, and it drives me crazy. And why at 3 o'clock?
The author in me thinks this: I am time-traveling while sleeping ... or living an alternate existence in a different time zone, and my 3 o'clock in this time zone is actually 6 or 7 a.m. in the other.
Then again, it could be the plate of Hooters chicken wings I ate with friends for dinner.
Speaking of Hooters: It's a little disconcerting when your Hooters waitress knows your daughter from her days in high school.

Author update: What I'm working on

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 11:32:00 +0000

1. My next novel in progress is set in (Surprise!) Amarillo ... where a character based on Bill Gates feels guilty about the problems computers have caused in the world and goes about building a walled city where technology is barred. My protagonist is a 4th-generation Amarillo lawyer who's in the throes of his midlife crisis. (NO, this is NOT autobiographical!)

2. Also am working on a nonfiction book on how to find the best college fit for your child. It'll be filled with anecdotes from the college-visit road trips I've taken with our own daughter.

3. I miss writing nonfiction, so I am going to do two things in this area: In addition to the college-hunting book I'm going to place essays in national magazines and newspapers, and I'm also going to be writing some home-and-garden stories for my local newspaper. I've found that writing fiction alone has been driving me NUTS! It's good to get back out into the real world.

Who knew?

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 10:06:00 +0000

... about the hoodoo? This was a new word to me, discovered on my trip to Amarillo. According to Wikipedia: A hoodoo (also tent rock, fairy chimney, earth pyramid) is a tall thin spire of rock that protrudes from the bottom of an arid drainage basin or badland.

Here's the one I saw in Palo Duro Canyon:

Everyone now: Yoo-HOO for hoodoos!

Mistake in the men's bathroom

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 08:14:00 +0000

There was a day when men's public bathrooms had urinal troughs ... where we all lined up and bumped shoulders as we peed. They've all but disappeared, even in stadium settings -- and I'm not sure why. These days men have their own private urinals, and these usually are separated by privacy walls. Guys ... what the hell happened? Have we become that sensitive and insecure?

At any rate, I was thrilled to see a urinal trough in a rest stop along the freeway between Lubbock and Amarillo. And this was a fancy green one. Take a look.

Afterward, I went to wash my hands ... and I couldn't find the sink. But I DID find a line of private urinals on another wall.

And then I noticed the SOAP DISPENSERS on the wall above the "urinal" I'd just used.

Uhh-Ohhhh ...

Oddities from the Texas Panhandle landscape

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 09:36:00 +0000

Spotted off a freeway in northern Amarillo, this sign with letters as tall as me:

I'd heard that the creator of Cadillac Ranch (see previous post) also posted odd signs around his native city. I'm guessing this is one of them.

Also: Spotted in a field east of Lubbock:

Sorry ... I couldn't get any closer to this LIFESIZE STATUE OF A GORILLA, smack dab in the middle of a farm field. Gives new meaning to "scare crow," doesn't it?

Texas Panhandle Post #44775641: No I am not a real cowboy ... but I play one on TV.

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 09:05:00 +0000

As I promised you, a stop on my trip (after I bought a very-cool straw hat, just like the ones I remember from my childhood in eastern Colorado), was the famous Cadillac Ranch, the brainchild of a man named Stanley Marsh 3 (he has said that "III" is pretentious).

These 10 cars are buried, nose down, into the soil, apparently at the same angle of the Great Pyramids of Giza.

Two girls from Canada asked to take my picture. They thought I was a real "cowboy." I dug into my childhood arsenal of Western twang so as not to disappoint them.

Fine Texan Panhandle Hospitality

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Sat, 04 Jul 2009 16:46:00 +0000

The Budget Rent-a-Car office at Rick Husband Amarillo International Airport is true to its name. Instead of being housed with the other car companies in the terminal, it's in a shack about 100 yards from the terminal. And when it's time to turn in your rental on the day of departure, you drive up to the shack, where a lady greets you and says, "You can leave your bags in the truck. Come on in."

After printing out my final bill, she said, "Now let's get you to the airport. Can I have the keys?"

She got into the driver's side of my rental truck, and I into the passenger's seat. And she drove me to the terminal. "You have a safe flight now," she said.

Texan tomfoolery

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 15:01:00 +0000

Overheard in Zach's Gym in Amarillo:

"... Next time you get stopped speeding, get that cell phone out and take a picture of the odometer the second you see those flashin' lights come on. And then, when you go to court and the trooper tries to lie about your speed and says "He was goin' 67 at 5:32 p.m.," then you can say, "Hey, judge, I've got a picture on my cell phone that shows I was going 62 at 5:32 ... not 67."

Texas Panhandle Journal: Post #2994

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Mon, 29 Jun 2009 02:08:00 +0000

1. They don't have Texan accents way up here in this part of the state. They sound more like Coloradoans. (Incidentally, Colorado natives don't much like Texans. I remember when I was a Colorado kid, it seemed that every other person you ran into on a ski slope was a Texan. Hence the popular T-shirt: "If God had wanted Texans to ski he would have made bullshit white!"

2. The spot reserved for fresh jalapenos in the grocery store is as big as the banana section in my grocery store in Florida.

3. The mascot for the local historic high school is the Sandies ... as in SAND STORM! Very cool, no?

4. The Big Texan Steak Ranch, which I mentioned in a previous blog as being the home of the 72-ounce hunk o beef, has a white limousine that will pick you up at your motel. It's a dusty stretch Cadillac with an immense pair of cattle horns mounted on the hood.

Tasty treat in Greenville

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Sat, 27 Jun 2009 13:52:00 +0000

... at a restaurant called High Cotton: a "hummus" spread using black-eyed peas instead of chickpeas. I will try to replicate this at home when I return from Amarillo and report back with a recipe.

OBSERVATION OF SOUTHERN CULTURE: Something you only see in the south: Men, on weekends, wearing pleated, pressed khaki shorts, penny loafers with no socks, fancy-leather belts and tucked-in polo shorts.

Gee....do you think their wives dress them?

Ouch.

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Wed, 24 Jun 2009 13:34:00 +0000

I was following a car on I-26, headed into Asheville, N.C. when I came upon a car that was exactly like the one I had in high school: a 1982 white Cutlass Supreme.

And it had a North Carolina plate that designated it as "Antique Car"

Grove Park Inn SUCKS

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 14:09:00 +0000

Linc Menner, the protagonist of my novel "Househusband," is on holiday and reports the following:

We'd heard lots of great things about this historic resort in the North Carolina mountains (Grove Park Inn in Asheville) and finally am having a chance to try it out. Our surprises so far:

-Yes, there is a spa, but guests must pay another $55 to even walk into the thing. And it's very strange: a fake grotto with fake stone and fake waterfalls ... just WEIRD. It's like something out of an Austin Powers movie.
-Yes, there is a swimming pool, but you have to take a bus to get there.
-Yes, there is a sports center, but it looks and smells like a YMCA. Good free-weight section, though.
One of the best views I've ever seen at a resort, but there's no place to sit that's not next to an ash tray. No place to have breakfast outside. And don't sit on those green adirondack chairs -- OOPS! The PAINT IS WET!
-Yes, there is a huge, very-cool stone fireplace that would accommodate a Buick, but the rest of the decor is ... well ... let me say that they hired the same decorators who outfitted the Holiday Inn by the airport in North Platte, Nebraska. We're talking Holidome fake plants. We're talking indoor-outdoor carpeting on the walls of the elevator. Lots of bad oak, too. We're talking fern bar circa 1974.

Now all of this would be okay and even cute ... if we weren't paying SO MUCH!!

On the road again ...

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 13:21:00 +0000

My posts will be infrequent these next two weeks. We're getting ready to take our daughter to summer camp, where she'll be a counselor all summer long in the mountains of North Carolina. And then I'm headed west on one of my writing jags. I periodically choose an obscure, fourth-tier city and go there to think and write with no distractions of home. This time, it's Amarillo, Texas, where I plan on buying a new pair of boots and doing my best to eat the 72-ounce slab of beef at The Big Texan Steak Ranch. (It's free if I succeed!) Also, I will most likely visit Amarillo's most famous attraction:

Yep. The Cadillac Ranch.

Life Lesson #427271RRE

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 12:17:00 +0000

Be careful when sorting the clean gym clothes after washing. Otherwise you will mistakenly wear your wife's much-smaller shorts for that two-mile run and end up with inner thighs the color of raspberries.

Home remedy for chafed skin, anyone?

How short should men's shorts be?

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 17:49:00 +0000

What are the cultural rules in America these days for the length of men's everyday summer shorts? I prefer mine above the knee, but some people think it obscene. You NEVER see men younger than 30 with shorts above the knee. More questions; Don't dads with mid-calf shorts look stupid? ... like they're trying to look all gangsta and young? What is the proper length of shorts for a 20-year-old? A 40-year old? Is there a difference between white and black and Latino culture?

More questions: Remember when basketball players' shorts were at mid-thigh? Didn't that make more sense? ... lighter and less material sloshing around. And aren't long shorts hotter?

What are your thoughts on men and shorts? I'm writing a story about this and want to hear your opinions.

Things I Did Not See Growing Up In Burlington, Colorado, #6559T

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 11:03:00 +0000

Spotted yesterday in Fort Myers by my health club: An automobile entourage from a black-American funeral home with royal-blue hearse and PURPLE police flashers on top.

Bad sign for Detroit ...

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 12:12:00 +0000

-Just got back from orientation at Denison University in Ohio, where my daughter is going to college this fall. It's filled with, among other people, children from wealthy Midwestern families.

I was sitting next to two young ladies and asked them where they were from. They both answered, "Michigan."

"Where?" I pressed them.

They both told me the names of their hometowns, which I recognized as affluent Detroit suburbs.

"Where exactly is that?"I pressed, knowing very well.

"Close to Canada" said one.

"By Lake St. Clair," said another.

WHAT I WANTED TO SAY: "Oh, you mean DEE-troit!"
WHAT I SAID: "Oh ... well, that sounds beautiful. I love Canada. And I love lakes."

How to save some $$$: Get that second opinion!

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 12:00:00 +0000

I'm pricing out a fence because of the new Devil Children who have moved into my neighborhood, and because I live in a historic district the city code laws are pretty strict as to what I can put up in the front yard. It has to be decorative aluminum, which, I've discovered, is kinda pricey.

It's often tempting to go with the first bid you get with such a project because, well, it's just easier, but I'm GLAD I got a second bid. First one came in at $1,800. Second one is more than $2,500 ... and it's the SAME exact product from the SAME manufacturer.

Another $$ observation: I've noticed that, ever since the economy fell out, the deli people at three different grocery stores have started slicing MORE meat than I ask for. Not much, maybe just a few ounces, but it never used to happen this often. Obviously, they've been told to upsell.

My fellow consumers: Don't take it! Tell them you don't want it, and that they need to take it off the pile....and then they have to swallow the cost.

Gotta go. Headed up to Ohio today for college orientation with my daughter.

Gift of a lifetime ... literally

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 12:17:00 +0000

My daughter graduates from high school today, summa cum laude (in both unweighted and weighted GPSs) in the International Baccalaureate program at Fort Myers High School. She's also speaking at graduation. Very, very proud of this girl who is going to Denison University to study this fall.

What to give as a graduation gift to such a great kid? Actually, I had no problems with this one. I'd been planning this present since she was age 2.

We learned early on that Haley Joy Hudler had a love of textiles. She was always stroking material fondly, and she always refused to give up her favorite dresses, coats, etc. I saw what was going on, and I started saving every important piece of fabric in her life ... all her favorite shirts and dresses, scraps of material from her favorite pieces of furniture, all her favorite shirts and robes and dresses of her mom's and dad's ... and I stowed them in a bag and schlepped that bag from state to state, house to house, as we moved around the country throughout her life.

This is what we came up with:

We gave it to her yesterday ... this lovely quilt made by Barbara Metcalfe of Naples who lives about 40 miles south of me.

Haley cried when she absorbed it ... each piece of fabric brought with it a rush of memories ... she could sit back and look at her entire life, based on the fabrics she love ... the sweater her mom wore when they snuggled, the robe her dad wore for 10 years.

We're guessing she won't take it to college with her, but it'll always be up in some closet, or on some guest bed ... and whenever she wants to feel closer to her mom and dad, long after we're gone, she can wrap herself in this quilt ... and feel our love.

Congratulations, Haley Joy!

Tropical Diary: Post #257TF (Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned)

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 10:50:00 +0000

I couldn't help myself, really. I pass her every day on my morning walk with my wife. And she is too beautiful to resist this time of year ... laden with fruit ... those leathery-skinned brown orbs so ripe they are pinkish-red. Already, I had tropical fruit on my mind, having passed a big tree of ripe mangoes just a block before. "Take me!" screamed the lychee fruit, hanging from the tree. "Eat me! ... NOW!"

It was obvious the owner didn't appreciate her. All that fruit, ignored! And if you've eaten lychees before you can understand why I couldn't resist.

"Eat me!" she screamed again.

At home, later, I cleansed my sticky fingers of the evidence.

When to say "thank you"

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 11:17:00 +0000

The graduation gifts for our daughter have started trickling in, and my wife has been hounding her to write thank-you notes ASAP. She says, "You should send a thank-you note within 48 hours of receiving your gift."

Ideally, of course, I agree with her. But these are self-absorbed 18-year-olds spending every possible second with their friends whom they're leaving behind as they enter adulthood indoctrination. My opinion: get the thank-yous finished before you go away to camp for the summer on June 18.

And really ... how many of YOU guys send thank-yous within 48 hours? What's acceptable? Three days? Three weeks? Better late than never?

UPDATE: 52 feet of ornamental fencing, needed to take care of my problem: $1,800!!!!
Yikes. Wouldn't it be easier to have them kidnapped and sent to Botswana?

A writer's quandary

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Sun, 31 May 2009 13:27:00 +0000

What book to write next? I can't decide. My agent told me I should try a collection of first-person essays. And I have been working on them, but, alas, I hate all of them. Then she suggested I write about the upcoming empty nest my wife and I are going to have (daughter graduates next week), but I'm thinking: Empty nest? Who gives a crap? What can I say about an empty nest?

This was/has been my idea: After dropping Haley off at college, I would take off in my truck on some sort of odyssey, reflecting on my life as a stay-at-home dad AND reflecting/pontificating on the state of American culture at this point in time ... as only Ad Hudler Self-Appointed Critic At Large could do. I actually thought of following the path that de Tocqueville took for his opus "Democracy in America." ... only I would name mine "Lunacy in America" or something like that.

I don't know ... maybe I should write a cookbook or a guide to solar-powered tools. My wife wants me to make some money. Maybe I should do some professional escort work. I did this in college for my great aunt's friends (ladies 70-plus) and had a blast. (I ONLY escorted them to parties, not to their beds) They bought me lots of nice clothes.

Damn. I'm at a loss.

Trouble at the end of Coconut Drive

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Thu, 28 May 2009 19:10:00 +0000

I've been fence-shopping. There are two new families with young boys who have moved onto the street, and the younguns are ... well ... gosh, how can I delicately put this ...

"THEY'RE SPOILED LITTLE BRATS FROM HELL WHO HAVE NO RESPECT FOR OTHER PEOPLES' PROPERTY."

These little farts have even taken to riding their mini-golfcart-jeep-thingy through my back yard, along the seawall ... fishing off my seawall ... helping themselves to my patio furniture ... throwing my rocks (used for fill against the seawall) into the water.

At first I was nice and firm: "Boys, you'll have to leave this yard. This is private property. There's no curtains in those waterfront windows, as you can see, and I surely don't want you to see me in my underwear."

They returned.

I then got all scary on them and yelled real loud, wearing my wife-beater and my boots ... and it worked ... for awhile.

But "Yes, sir." has evolved into "Fuck you!"

So the fence is going up.

Kitchen Confession

huxterbad@aol.com (Ad Hudler) — Wed, 27 May 2009 01:03:00 +0000

Things I eat/snarf/inhale while standing over the sink:
1. Mangoes
2. Cold leftover Chinese food
3. pomegranates.

Any others?