This photo was taken in the Luby's Cafeteria over on Mockingbird between Skillman and Abrams last week.

I loves me some Luby's. I probably eat at one Luby's or another around town 4 or 5 times a week, minimum. The great thing is you can get plain-jane vegetables, choose sensibly from the entrees and if you manage not to make sweet love to the come-hither pie shelf, well, you can have a guilt-free, healthy meal that's not aneurysm-on-a-plate.

I understand people who are careful what they eat, and that is admirable, to a point. Then again, one would hate to go overboard. I mean, the people who exercise obsessively claim they add years to their life by doing so, and yet, what's the good of an extra year of life if by the end of the day, you've spent 3 or 4 years of your life in a nasty gym with a bunch of manky arseholes who couldn't manage a conversation gripping enough for a department-store dummy?

Anyhoo, today my mind cast back to one event past, and life's little irony made me giggle.

Someone in my acquaintance sat at a dinner table with a group of people about 13 years ago, and when his burger was brought to the table, he was upset to see it arrive replete with lettuce and tomatoes. I said "you don't like that stuff on your burger?" and he said "I don't eat rabbit food. I hate vegetables. Never eat 'em."

I shrugged. Chacun à son goût. Or as my mom says it, "there's no accounting for taste."

Flash forward these many moons to find he has married [record scratch effect here] a dietician, and now he only eats vegetables, tofu and grainy-type dishes reminiscent of cardboard and sawdust. On super-special rare occasions as a treat, he gets to eat beef cooked to a tasteless gray. Yum!

So recently, a group of people were going out to eat at Luby's, including this guy, and he asked if the wife wanted to come and she said "No. They don't have anything I can eat there."

Suit yourself, petal. Happy trail mix to you.

OH, and for the record -- three of the best cafeterias I've ever found are 1. Luby's near the highway in Wichita Falls (I had some squash there once that nearly made me weep!), 2. Furr's in Roswell, NM - fantastic place, good food, and lots of military folk eating there - what's not to like. Oh, and they have a little old blind guy sing and play his electric piano there sometimes, and 3. Bryce's Cafeteria in Texarkana - When in season, you can get fried green tomatoes at this one - heaven.

Honorable Cafeteria mention goes to Casa Linda Cafeteria, formerly Highland Park Cafeteria. They were turned out of their lease a couple months back, despite their booming business. Such a tragedy - this was the SE corner of Garland and Buckner, and was worth the drive, frankly. Tragic loss to the city. I hope they'll open again elsewhere.

Here's a couple images I er, uh, borrowed from some where on the net. These were taken at Rubber Gloves in Denton Tuesday night. The guy in the striped shirt at the right showed up at the Dallas show and held her up again for this dynamic portion of her performance. She was just spinning around and hanging upside-down while she sang her Gold Pants Lullaby. It's so clever the way she-- a plump white chick from Iowa -- so cleverly subverts the entire hip-hop medium-- this has been screaming to be done by someone more subtle and clever than Weird Al, and now someone has. Huzzah!

You know, I don't always dress like this. Sometimes I like to wear something gold and tight!

No doubt you can see why I love her like I do - She totally rocks! div>

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Was in my R.E. test prep class Saturday, but I woke up late, having usefully set my alarm for 7PM rather than AM. Nice.

Then I was halfway to useless the whole day, all though I knew most of the material pretty well. Still I'll be so relieved to get through the test and have it over with. And no more 8 to 6:30 Sat/Suns. Ugh.

Speaking of UGGS, it's been humid and warm enough to feel muggy lately, so I was baffled when I saw a pack of teens out today in UGGS. That is so 2005. Maybe they were being retro-ironic. Whatever.

Well, Kevin has done it again, and I have to link his fantastic May Day Protests post. It's great to read about someone who cared enough about being a US citizen to respect our laws and go through the tedious, time-consuming and expensive process to do so. Hats off and best wishes to Kevin.

If you don't have respect for the laws regarding entry into the country, there's
no reason to expect you to have respect for the rest of the laws once you're
actually in here.

You can think of it as Paris Hilton going to jail for 45 days for violating probation.

I choose to think of it as Paris Hilton paying a teeny-weeny price for the innumerable sins of trustafarians the world over.

Let's not worry about her too much, though - I'm sure some benevolent soul will take her under her wing. Maybe ER Landson - also of the Lynwood Women's Correctional Facility - will take pity and let Paris do her hair while they swap stories about boys and manicures and who in West L.A. sells the best Colombian marching powder. They'll swap make-up tips and Paris will help apply ER's signature abalone pink pearl nail polish, vainly trying to keep the falling ash from ER's ever-present lower-lip-dangling cigarette from sullying the fresh lacquer. But I said it would be in vain: after the falling ash spoils the wet enamel, Paris will whine and sulk, and then ER will have to beat her on the backs of the thighs with a hair accessory from the Goody line of products. (why do you think they call them "paddle brushes?"] Then Paris will remove the spoiled manicure and start over. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

Somewhere in Texas, the common man's burden will shift ever so slightly as his load eases, and Paris pays for a rich asshole's cat that peed in someone's car.

Life is good.

This is a few years old, and probably lots of you have already seen it over at Kevin's excellent blog. I got a few grins out of this.

Leslie & The Lys show was amazing both times. I had a blast attending it with Holly. I'd say 90% of the audience was in their 20s, which means we were frontrunners for the oldest-broads-in-the-house award, but we fought through it and had a good time. Actually, we had great conversations, and it didn't seem like torture to wait, even though Leslie didn't take the stage until midnight.

After the show, I did the groupie thing (Oh, like you didn't already guess!) and I got to meet her. She said "at last we have found each other." Little did I know she was just leading me down a primrose path, strewn with the spangles and sequins from a thousand forgotten gem sweaters. She signed all my crap, including the cd cover, on which she wrote:

Phlegmmy,
mark my beats
we r together at last.
Boosnacks!

She hugged me tight and squished her spandex-encased body all up against me, and it felt like we had a forever thing going on. I looked adoringly at her as I softly said "I'll see you tomorrow night."

Flash forward to Wednesday night at Double-Wide. I was there, I was primped and cute and ready to take my place as a constellation in Leslie's night sky. But alas, it was not meant to be. I heard Leslie tell another woman "it's all about you, baby!" and Leslie called yet another shameless hussy "sugar-lips." I was crestfallen. I felt like a cheap, gullible groupie audience member as all my dreams of a forever future with Leslie were dashed to the gutter like a corny-dog stick at the state fair midway.

Yes, 24 hours have passed, and I'm older and more mature. Wiser? Oh yes. I've grown as a person and can accept that I must share Leslie with the world. I'm kind of okay with that, but some moments it hurts. But Leslie and me? We'll always have last Tuesday night, and we'll always have Rubber Gloves.
Boosnacks!

Reason #9718 why Jack Russell Terriers are great:

It's not a surprise to anyone who knows me that I'm just a teeny bit partial to Jack Russell Terriers. "Plucky" is a term a lot of people use to describe these energetic little dogs. They usually top out around 15 to 20 pounds, and I've always said that if they came in human weights, well, we might be begging food from them.

Every once in a while, though, one of these fierce little beasts makes the news in a story where they cross over from feisty and plucky into the territory of the stalwartly courageous and heroic. For example, this story tells of a JRT named George who saved the 4 human children in his family from a pair of attacking pit bulls, ultimately losing his life due to wounds received in fending off the wicked beasties.

Bless his little lion heart.

Youtube video of Leslie & The Lys' Zombie Killer

Last night at Rubber Gloves in Denton was wild & I was accompanied by the lovely and talented Holly B. I'll tell you all about it later today or tomorrow or someday. I'm WIPED out. Show was to start at 8, but they opened the doors at 9 (wtf?), and the opening acts played on and on, and she finally took the stage at midnight. Got home at 3:30. It was fantastic.

Going to see her again at Double-Wide in Dallas tonight. I hope there's another great audience there - her show is a hoot. I got to meet Leslie, but I plumb forgot to ask her to sign my tit. Maybe tonight...

Thank you mama for making me gold pants
Ones I can dance in, and make romance in!

Tuesday night, Rubber Gloves in Denton. Leslie & the Lys.

I'm SO excited. Ok, I'm not Imogen Heap-excited, but I'm excited. I'm not wearing gold pants, but I definitely want to paint with the blood of beanie babies!

Snapped over my left shoulder while driving yesterday, not aiming. Yes, I'm very careful. Took a bunch of random snaps without looking, eyes on the road, of course. I knew one of them was bound to be semi-interesting. LOVE this weather. More, please!

*squeals of delight from the peanut gallery*

Goody - apparently some wicked weather is brewing up in the Panhandle and poised to serve us up a good dollop of something nasty on Monday - my favorite!!!

I hope my table in the junk store in Quanah will be ok - I'm going to fetch it sometime soon.

Made some beads this weekend. Took long walks with Miss Buns. Good time had by me and my doglet.

Wow. Can you believe a full third of this year is already gone? Enjoy the last of April.

I had to go visit a wholesaler in Rockwall on Saturday, and LouLou was full of gas and the day was beautiful, so the time was right to go pathfinding. I decided to head off to the north and drive long enough to see nothing man-made, other than the road.

I drove up through the old town part of Rockwall and then up to Nevada. In Nevada is an art-deco gymnasium (currently a church) with a marvelous bas-relief rendering of Mercury - lovely. Though he was in profile, he was plumb nekkid and I'm amazed he survived the last century intact, libertine as he was. I'll try to post a photo from my phone tomorrow.

I drove around on successively smaller roads until I found myself on a goatpath with newly mown hay stewn along the roadside (I suppose having fallen from trucks) and sprigs of grass growing up in the middle of the dirt road ahead. I went over a little rise, and here I had my little fit of utter isolation, and it was glorious. Fields stretched out on either side and I couldn't see anything beyond, so for a moment I pretended I'd gone much further afield than a mere 30 minute drive from town.

Of the several dirt roads I drove down, something seemed very off to me. And then it hit me: where my family is from (Northeast Ozarks in Arkansas), all the dirt roads are made of iron-rich red soil, and these in Rockwall and Hunt counties were a soft, low-dust black soil. I kept catching myself thinking "they must have hauled this dirt in for these dirt roads." Silly me.

Anyway, one little road north of Caddo Mills took me by a historical marker of the Clinton Cemetery in Hunt county. Here legend said a cowboy was buried about 160 years ago or so, and in 1859 a local settler gave that land for a town (Massayville) burial place. He also donated a huge tract of land to the railroad for a right-of-way. This was called Massay Cemetery, but along with the town was later renamed for a railroad official named Clinton. How's that for gratitude? I'll bet the Massay family were none too pleased.

Anyway, I looped back around to Nevada and then over to Lavon and down by the dam. I had the sunroof and windows open, and the natural basin where the north fork of the Trinity River is dammed to form Lake Lavon is a verdant, densely treed area. There was some tree or plant which I could smell that also grows around the springs at Mammoth Spring, Arkansas. I'm going to wear more suitable shoes sometime soon and ferret out what that tree is - must have one of those, someday - it smells like home, smells like family times.

Maybe it'll be easier to go to the spring next month when I'm in Arkansas, though. I'm going to go to the farm of a friend whose grandfather was a famous Texas Ranger, and I'll muck about and get more cow photos. I also want to talk my mom into going over to the Strawberry River where we used to go and swim and picnic with her folks. It'll be sweet, and I'll tell you all about it.

I hope you enjoyed this beautiful weekend as much as I enjoyed mine. Cheers!

Remember when your library card had a little metal tab with numbers on it, and they'd put it on a little machine and insert the card from your book selection into a little muncher slot, and it would munch off the bottom side edge of the card a bit? I want one of those machines. I've been searching for years on ebay and in junk stores, and I can't even find out what they were called. Do you know what they are called & where I can find one? I don't know what I'll do with it. I just know I want one.

To JOHN

Cheers, and we're all sending warm thoughts and prayers your way. I'm proud to bursting of you and the men and women who serve alongside you-- you are the very best of what we stand for, and you give me hope for America, and you bring hope to all the other nations you touch. Bless you!