Since this won't go into the Letters to the Editor it's being put here. On Sunday, October 23, the Advocate published a letter from a Jim Huber from Cuero. In it he was mentioning the sports writers talking about Roger Clemens resting three days between pitching assignments. He said, in part, “When I was 43, I was carrying sheetrock for eight hours a day without any three days of rest. The guy who does our yard is 68 and does three to four yards a day without any rest.”

Anyone who can mow three or four yards a day at age 68 is very blessed and is to be commended. And, it’s good that Huber could carry sheetrock eight hours a day without any three days of rest. My question to him is, “Can you pitch baseball eight hours a day without three days rest?” Surely, he knows that any baseball pitcher is resting his pitching arm three (or how many days it takes him) days between starts. Unless there’s a reason for not doing so, it’s my guess that a major league pitcher is usually running to keep his legs in shape, is taking batting practice and is maybe even playing pepper between starts. He’s probably not just sitting around sipping lemonade resting his entire body between starts.

Huber also stated, “I get a bit irked about the "heroic, amazing Rocket" Roger Clemens.” My reply to this is, “If you got out there and pitched with the groin and other injuries that Roger did, without ever saying how he’s hurting and never complaining, maybe you’d have a better idea of what a hero is. Why don’t you go ask Clemens how many hours, weeks and months he spends getting into and staying in shape? Then maybe you would appreciate the work, skill and dedication it takes to play major league baseball. Could you do it, even at 23?”

Personally, it’s my notion that Clemens was pitching more with his HEART than with his arm his last two starts.

Our seven year old granddaughter Madeleine Paige McKinnon called and said, “Grandma, are you sure that Casey is going to have a baby sister?” “Yes, he is.” “That’s good because I want to buy baby sister a blanket. It’ll be soft and feel good. When’s she’s upset she can put it up to her face and feel good again.”

What cute things do you want to tell about your grandkids?

Blog commenter DAVID just received a book entitled "Sky's Witness, A year in the wind river range" about a guy doing research in the Wind River Mountains in Wyoming. The study was to try to determine what all airborne garbage was being detected in the snow and rainfall traps on the backbone of the Rockies in that area. The gut wrencher for me was my probably never being able to go backpacking there again.

Our power plant construction project was shut down by a labor strike. A bunch of us from our company decided to take a backpack trip into some lakes in the Wind River Wilderness. In the book, the author seemed to be going up the same trail we did to Big Sandy Lake.

When I pack for a trip of any kind there is the tendency to take more than some folks, especially my wife, deem necessary. My GI surplus back board, from comments about it, was designed to haul what someone said was a field pack canon or howitzer. One thing for sure, it wasn't designed for how I tried to use it. The curved plywood frame had several hooks along each side on the back for lashing a load to it.

Seemingly always on a tight budget, my idea was load up extra canned goods, cooking gear, clothes, fishing tackle,etc. into a GI duffle bag and lash it to the frame. Experienced packers know to get your weight distribution as high as possible (that is right, isn;t it?) to help your balance when totin' a load.

Somehow, the load sensed my tenderfoot lashing tecnique and figured a way for the load to work its way down to half way down my butt rather than up on my back and shoulders. I must have looked more like a humpbacked pregnant goose than a man going up that trail. It was darned unweildy and very uncomfortable.

Anyone who hasn't hiked in the mountains should know that wilderness trails aren't covered with blacktop like some of the jogging/bike trails in city parks. There are tree roots, various sizes and shapes of rocks, downed trees, critters like porcupines, clouds of mosquitoes and maybe even swarms of biting flies on a forest trail. You also might encounter bears, deer, elk, moose and other disagreeable critters such as other hikers who seem to think that they OWN the trail.

On the plus side of hiking into high country lakes, especially as soon as the ice melts off them, is that the fish are usually ravenous and will often hit anything you throw at them for bait. There is often the casual observance of local wildlife including the young of the year (be careful not to get between mamas and her babies).

Back to the sliding groceries, you can bet an earnest effort was made to consume all the canned goods before heading back down the mountain. Pork & beans and fried spuds went well with all those fresh fried trout.

Remember: Dig the potty hole well away from water and cover your latrine and pack the dirt well before breaking camp. Take out all your trash and leave nothing but tracks.

How about sharing some of your high country adventures with us?

In Ganado the other even we saw an unusual looking dove sitting on a power line. Most of its head and neck were white. When it flew, the wings seemed to have about a three inch band of white around the center portion of them.

What odd colorations have you seen on birds or animals in this area?

Hey, with all the recent talk about New Orleans, how about voting on how is the correct way to say the capitol of Louisiana, New OR-LEENs, Norlens, Or New Orlans? Cast your vote for the one you think is correct. It'll be interesting to see the final tally. Thanks. Rusty

Did anyone see NIGHT LINE aired from a church in Houston last night? They were discussing what should be done to prepare better for natural disasters or worse in the Houston area. Besides, incorporating all the best ideas, a big part is having the MONEY to implement the prospose programs, such as getting all the radios all on the same channels for first responders.

This seems like a good time to get dubya by his little pinched up nose and tell him to BRING OUR BOYS AND HALLIBURTON HOME and devote that money to the USA and its poor.

Loon mentioned seeing porpoises herding something over the weekend. Have any of you ever seen oodles of pelicans forming a huge circle in shallow water and herding fish up in a tight circle?

Had anyone at the scene known that all cold water submersion victims don't necessarily drown, Leon might still be alive today. The best I remember the story Carl Wagner, his 15 year old son and their black lab were at lake Ponchartrain.

I believe they had thrown a training dummy into the water for the dog to retreive.Something happened to the dog and Leon jumped into the frigid lake to aid the dog. The result was that Leon disappeared.

The rescue party responded squickly enough to retrieve the boy who had stopped breathing. Resusitation efforts were short lived and he was pronounced dead at the scene.

The younger a person is and the colder the water, the greater the person can be resussitated without harmful effects. The mammalian diving reflex shuts down body functions in humans somewhat the same it does for penguins and seals swimming in cold water.For more information click
http://www.seagrant.umn.edu... target='_blank'>here

Last week KTRH asked people to call in and give their reasons why, or why not, they'd sell Astros World Series Tickets at a big fat profit if they could. And, if so, what would you do with the money?

Evidently, the way to get the tickets is to be chosen in a lottery at the regular face value. Then,some folks will spend whatever it takes to get tickets.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

BIG OOPS. Was checking ticket prices on ebay and meant to click on the <— back button and hit BID NOW on tickets already at $1,055. Nearly had a panic attack. Sure glad I wasn't signed in to ebay that time. Shut down ebay for the night before I really screwed up.

In a comment on Chelsey Delaney's blog entitled History Should Never Become A Ghost, Jeff D. Asked, "Why is it illegal to crush a bald eagle's egg and legal to crush a human egg?

While I'm not advocating crushing human eggs here, here may be Jeff's answer.

At the time the bald eagle law was passed the bald eagle was listed as an "endangered" species. When were humans ever listed as an endangered species? Not recently.

On the contrary, there are absolutely too many snotty nosed, half starved, watery eyed little kids in the world who will never be properly educated , never be taught any moral values or that to be grateful for all the trouble people have
gone to to help them out (even after a hurricane). If you aren't going to raise and care for them RESPONSIBLY, KEEP YOUR BRITCHES ON!!!!!

If our almighty "public servants" and brains could be as good at figuring out alternative fuels and these high school kids did this situation, we'd be so much better off. We need more leaders with the savy and the cajones of these kids.

They walked in tandem, each of the ninety-two students filing into the
already crowded auditorium. With rich maroon gowns flowing and the tradition-al caps, they looked almost as grown up as they felt.

Dads swallowed hard behind broad smiles, and Moms freely brushed
way tears.

This class would not pray during the commencements ——- not by choice but because of a recent court ruling prohibiting it.

The principal and several students were careful to stay within the guidelines allowed by the ruling.They gave inspirational and challenging speeches, but no one mentioned divine guidance and no one asked for blessings on the graduates or their families.

The speeches were nice, but they were routine......until the final speech received a standing ovation.

A solitary student walked proudly to the microphone.He stood still and
silent for just a moment, and then, it happened. All 92 students, every
single one of them, suddenly SNEEZED!!!!

The student on stage simply looked at the audience and said, " GOD BLESS YOU, each and every one of you!" And he walked off stage...

The audience exploded into applause. The graduating class found a unique way to invoke God's blessing on their future with or without the
court's approval.

Isn't this a wonderful story? Pass it on to all your friends........and
GOD BLESS YOU!!!!

In God We Trust, United We Stand.

This is a true story (according to the Internet).

Watching the home plate umpire calling a wide strike zone in the Astros game today reminded me of a home town legend involving another umpire. My dad was managing a sandlot baseball team. His excitable & vocal bat boy was either 8 or 9 years old.

Max Buzzard was the center fielder. When he batted he used a heavier bat until he had two strikes on him. The bat boy would kneel in the ondeck circle with Max'x lighter bat until it was called for.

They were playing at Durant, Oklahoma. Pete Fieldcamp was the umpire. The pitch bounced in front of home plate, "Strike two!" was the call. The bat boy tugged his cap down on his head and ran toward homeplate, the crowd was quiet when the lad hollered, "You old blind——-."

Everyone in the crowd howled with laughter, except the bat boy's mama. With blood in her eye she went running down the steps of the grandstand to the dugout. The players saw what was happening and stuck the terrified boy behind their legs under the bench. His mama wouldn't admit it but the players might have saved the kid's life.

A story in today's Advocate about the return of the bald eagles brought to mind a memorable experience.

A "pitch tube" is formed when a coniferous tree's bark is penetrated. Insects such as various species of pine beetles bore through the bark to eat on the cambium layer (that's the soft layer of woody tissue which carries nutrients and water up and down the tree between the last growth ring and the bark). The sticky pitch flows outward through the hole (about the diameter of the head of a straight pin)in an effort to discourage further use of that hole. This "pitching out" leaves what looks like a semi- transparent wad of bubblegum which can vary from yellowish to gray with flecks of chewed up cambium (looks like sawdust)embedded in it.

Walt Ringer and I were on a ridge in the Big Horn National Forest overlooking Buffalo, Wyoming. The main ridge ran east and west with smaller finger ridges running off to the north and south. Walt and I split up to search for pitch tubes to indicate an outbreak of mountain pine beetles in Ponderosa Pines.

My lunch break was taken on a finger ridge giving me a fabulous view across a rocky canyon and of many little cascades of water rushing over rocks in Clear Creek some 300 feet below me.

There was nary a sound but a feeling came over me that I wasn't up there all alone. Suddenly a pair of bald eagles glided past within 20 or 30 feet of me. Their massive yellow beaks looked like stout hayhooks and their yellow eyes looked as big as quarters. The books say their wing span can reach seven feet. I'm convinced they're every bit of that. That was a beautiful sight.

The government today announced that it is changing its national symbol to a CONDOM because it more accurately reflects the government's political stance.
A condom allows for inflation, halts production, destroys the next generation, protects a bunch of pricks, and gives you a sense of security while you're actually being screwed.
Damn, it just doesn't get more accurate than that

Herman Brune, author of the Lost Rider of Yaupon Creek stories printed in the Advocate, is running for something. Even though I don't have the network he mentions, maybe some of you can help him out. he wrote: Dear Abe,
Would you please forward this invitation to your network of Republicans and concerned constituents?
Thanks

Invitation: Brune for Texas Senate #18 Campaign Fundraiser Saturday, Oct. 22, 2005 Gunsmoke, Texas HWY 71 N from Columbus 5 miles, FM 1890 West 1 mile
Enjoy an afternoon of Western Action Shooting at Gunsmoke and special events around the arena 3:00 - 7:00 p.m. B-B-Q and Dance, Music by the Katy Freeway Backup Band 7:00 - 10:00 p.m.tickets: $20 (includes meal)
RSVP 979-732-5241; Your support is greatly appreciated
Thanks, Herman W. Brune, 1079 fm 1890, Columbus, Texas 78934
*****
Rusty here: Besides the fact that they wouldn't let me in, I'll be hauling Helping Hands BBQ plates to Ganado that afternoon.

My mom's family was at our house for dinner. My dad stepped out the back door with his little gallery style pump Winchester .22 rifle with an octagon barrel. Trying to hit a rooster in the eye, dad missed more than once. Mom's 12 year old brother was beside himself, "Hel*, I can shoot better'n that. Let me do it." It's not hard to imagine my dad handing him the gun and replying, "Here, if you're so dam*ed smart, you do it."

The first shot had the rooster floppin' and squawkin' all over the place. He was so proud until dad said, "Ya shot 'im right in the back. I coulda done that if I wanted to ruin half the meat."

NORTH DAKOTA MORNING

Some folks welcomed me to North Dakota by invitimg me to join them camping in the north unit of the TR National Park. My sleep, in a tent with mesh window screens, was interrupted by what sounded like a grizzly bear growling just the other side of the blue nylon fabric. Moving slowly to peek unnoticed at the source of the noise, I was nearly looking a giant bull buffalo right in the eye. He had about 25 buddies - cows, bulls and calves - right in our camp.

It's still a matter of conjecture whether or not the shaggy critters had activated my bladder. Regardless, it was expedient for me to quietly tug on my overalls and shoes. Being extra careful to make no sound unzipping the tent door, my exit route kept the tent between me and the big bull. This was one of my most memorable trips to an outhouse.

The folks in a nearby tent had to remain in their tent about 45 minutes while the herd lazily grazed their way across the campground.

This took place on July 4, 2001. That same week, two tourists were killed by buffalo. One in the Custer State Park in South Dakota, and I don't remember where the other one was. One old man "stood his ground" (the rest of his party beat a discrete retreat) on a hiking path while a herd sauntered by. On old bull was calmly easing along when it suddenly slung his head and gut hooked the old gent with a curved horn and slung him over its shoulder.

It seems like the other old gent persisted in getting too close to get the "picture of a lifetime." The details escape me except it was the last he ever attempted.

The photo, showing just the top of my tent showing over the backs of three bulls, had too large a file to post here.

TEDDY ROOSEVELT NATIONAL PARK 2001

TEXANA HISTORICAL CHURCH, BRACKENRIDGE CAMPGROUND, EDNA, TX

ONE RUBYTHROAT

Tried to find you some outdoor pix but they are on another computer. Will see how this turns out.



15" Lake Texana Gator

Tim Oi recently told us to hug a librarian. The librarian in our school was too mean to hug.They told a story about her on a trip. She was standing on a street corner and some drunk staggered up and said, "You're about the ugliest woman I ever saw." Indignantly, she replied, "Well, you're about the drunkest man I ever saw." When he started rolling on the ground laughing she asked what was so funny, "Yeah, but I'll be over mine in the morning."

From the AP we get: PRIMM, Nev. - Stanley, the Volkswagen Touareg that won a $2 million desert road race all on its own — in a sense — bears a logo that plays off its manufacturer’s slogan.

“Drivers not required.”

The robotic SUV finished first in a 132-mile trek across the rugged and twisting Nevada desert, in what may be an early step toward getting vehicles to do their own driving for everything from war-zone supply missions to morning commutes.

Stanley zipped through the Mojave Desert course in six hours and 53 minutes Saturday, using only its computer brain and sensors to navigate rough and twisting desert and mountain trails.

The robotic vehicles had to navigate a course designed to mimic driving conditions in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The race is part of the military’s effort to fulfill a congressional mandate to cut casualties by having a third of the military’s ground vehicles unmanned in 20 years.

RUSTY HERE: I HOPE our troops are out of Iraq & Afghanistan WITHIN THE NEXT 20 YEARS. For more click http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id... target='_blank'>HERE

The week of spring break in 1965 turned off colder'n a well digger's knee. Jim Miller had gone with me to plant pine trees around my folks' cabin at Fort Cobb Lake in SW Oklahoma. It was so cold we had to do our fishing in a heated floating marina. Determined to have fish for supper, we cleaned all those pitiful little bullheads and perch.

Back then we didn't worry about the social implications of sleeping in the same bed to keep warm that night. As long as he stayed on his side of the bed there would be no problem. Somehow, the garage door under the bedroom had been left open. That did nothing at all to increase our comfort in that unheated cabin.

Along about 2 or 3 a.m. my nose detected a very foul odour (not odor, mind you, it was a real odour). Evidently Miller had gotten so cold he'd gotten up and put on the clothes he was wearing when we cleaned those durned fish.

Anyone have any similar tales to relate?

Our son Courtney and I were guests on a guided goose hunt near Eagle Lake. The fog was so thick that it seemed like we could cut it with a knife. The guides called in geese and ducks. We also had doves and snipe appear out of the fog. We were in for quite a shock when one of the guides cut loose on a goose; the whistling of the buckshot was a new experience for us.
About the time to head home the fog lifted. We were rounding up the birds when a crippled snow goose stood up on a rice dam. It decided it couldn’t fly but could run. Cheap me didn’t want to use a shell to dispatch it as we surely could catch it. BIG MISTAKE. Rubber chest waders weren’t made for running in.
It seemed like we chased that sucker 200 or 300 yards before it became apparent that using a shell would be the only way to end the chase. Huffin’ & puffin’ like a steam engine didn’t help my aim any and it took TWO shells before the bird surrendered. Walking all the way back to the truck in those sweaty waders across that rice field was a real treat as well.

Do any of you have any such confessions to make?

The cool north wind and overcast skies and the smell of rain in the air tonight reminded me of my first Jackson County goose hunt. My previous duck hunting hadn't provided any access to geese and I was really excited to have a place to set out my goose decoys.

The field-testing questionnaire for some new outdoor rain gear gave me a choice between camo and hunter orange. Hoping to make an elk & mule deer in the Rockies that year dictated selecting the orange. When the two piece suit arrived the bottoms had a drawstring but no zipper. The hooded top seemed to be okay. The next rub was that a job transfer scuttled the anticipated elk & deer hunt.

The last few days before goose season opened that year were rainy. A chilly north wind drove the slightly falling rain on opening morning so rain gear was in order. CAMO rain gear, not hunter orange. To cover the orange a poncho type serape was fashioned out of camo netting. A doubled piece of rebar tie wire was used for a belt to keep the top of the "dress" from flopping in the wind.

Attempting to make only one trek across the 200 yards of wet gumbo to the blind had me loaded up like a pack horse. Let's see, what all was there? A cased shotgun, a plastic case of at least 4 boxes of goose loads and another of duck loads; a ground cloth and there were either two or three "flyer" decoys tied to some steel "T" fence posts.

Was it dogged determination or shear stupidity which kept me struggling across that patch of my self made hell? Every step collected another pound of gumbo on my boots. The tie wire belt helped restrict my already labored breathing. Stepping on the dragging tail of the camo material did very little for forward progress. There may have been a bit of cryin', cussin' and slobberin'.

Had there been a companion, the merciful thing would have been to hit me in the head and put me out of my misery.

Imagine a camo clad swamp monster staggering along in the predawn strugglin' desperately to breathe and groanin', "Why...uhhh...in..uhhh...the... uhhh.....@#$%$&*. ...uhhh...am....uhhhhh ..I...uhhhhh....do...uhhhh.....in'....uhhh...this ?"

One of the drawbacks of the two piece rain suit is that it wasn't designed for use sitting in a wet pit blind or leaning up against a rice dam. IF you survived the hypothermia and heart attack you still had to shuck the muddy mess before driving home. Or, most definitely, before stepping into the house.

One requirement of the field testing was keeping detailed records of the conditions and your evaluation of how the garment met your expectations while wearing the garments. At the end of the testing period, a compilation of all your observations had to be sent to the manufacturer. It doesn't take much imagination to guess some of the comments I really wanted to record, especially when answering, "How did this garment add to your comfort and enjoyment of the day?"

Our son Courtney was a tow headed tike about six years old when he watched me screw a 200 watt bulb into an amber globed swag lamp rated for 60 watts. The lamp hung in a corner of a long living room made dark by walnut colored paneling. Heavy light blue draperies prevented any light penetration. The plaster ceiling of the less than a year old house was textured with 180 degree (˝ circle) swirls.
When the inline switch was turned on we had a fireworks show with fire and sparks traveling both up and down the flimsy plastic power cord.
When the war dance was over and the smoke cleared, wide-eyed Courtney looked up at me and sternly admonished, “Daddy, you’d better not ever pull another DUMB STUMP like that.”
As you might guess, there have been plenty of “dumb stumps” in my life. A great many occurred on hunting or fishing trips. Some of the accounts happened to other people too. A couple episodes, EVER SHADDER WUZ A BEAR and THE FRYIN’ PAN BEAR, were omitted from “THE HOG RIDE & OTHER DUMB STUMPS…” because they sounded like good book titles. Watch for those titles on book store shelves some day.