Munchkin Tuesday: TV Themes

Love this. How much TV did you watch in the ’80s? Write down your answers, then click on the YouTube icon and look at the description to see how many you got right.



A view from the bridge

The oft-delayed “East Meets West” sculpture has finally arrived at Cyrus Avery Plaza, just east of the Arkansas River on Route 66 here in Tulsa. It’s supposed to be something like one and a half times life size and shows Cyrus Avery, the “Father of Route 66,” climbing out of his Model T to help a farmer in a wagon calm his horses, who have spooked at the sight of Avery’s car. In the car, Avery’s wife turns around to check on their daughter, who is trying to hang onto an obviously terrified cat. I like art that tells a story, and this definitely does that.

I walked out onto the pedestrian bridge above the plaza to get some pictures of the guys installing the sculpture this morning:

Here are the wagon and the Model T.
It was a spectacularly crappy morning. A cold front moved through Tulsa, bringing storm clouds with it. Look at those flags in the background!
Check out that enormous crane they’re using to maneuver the pieces of the sculpture into place.
Here’s a better look at the horses. I like how you can see the old Eleventh Street Bridge and the current alignment of Route 66 in the background.
Another view of the road, the bridge, and the plaza.

I’m not convinced this sort of display is the best way to spend money on Route 66 (I’d rather see the money used to relight neon signs and restore historic properties), but it’s definitely eye-catching, and maybe it will pique some people’s interest and get them off the interstate and onto 66.



So we’re throwing a Halloween party at work for all the local kids, and my boss informed me that I would be expected to wear a costume.

I hate wearing costumes.

Ron suggested I just show up in my bee suit, but I’m in charge of the popcorn, and I am pretty sure the health department would shut us down if an inspector walked in and saw me scooping popcorn in my pollen-and-propolis-stained gloves and honey-smeared suit.

This was what I came up with instead:

Janis Joplin costume

Janis Joplin. Or, as I like to call it, “Casual Friday.”





People kept bugging me about it, so I finally joined Pinterest last summer. I don’t really get the appeal. Seems like an awful lot of effort just to bookmark a page. But people keep telling me how great it is, so I get on there every now and then to appease them.

Last month, I pinned a replacement part for my honey extractor.

A couple of weeks ago, I pinned a chainsaw.

Tonight, I pinned Jackie Robinson, Andre DawsonPudge Rodriguez, Old Hoss Radbourn, and the entire starting lineup for the ’84 Cubs.

Judging from all the shoes, sandy beaches, and low-carb dessert recipes I keep seeing on everybody else’s boards, I am pretty sure I am doing it wrong….


Belated Tucumcari report

Yeah, yeah, I know, my trip was two weeks ago, and I’m just now getting around to posting pictures. I’ve been busy — work, belt test, deadlines, more deadlines, hive inspection, meetings, personal training, volunteer work, writing, etc., etc., etc.

Anyway, here are the visuals, minus the ones I took with my cell phone and posted to Instagram. If you want to see those, you’ll have to click here to see my account. But here are my Rebel shots, such as they are:

I did something I’ve never done before: I spent a night at the San Jon Motel. I wouldn’t recommend it to everybody, but if you’re a Route 66 enthusiast, you probably ought to do it at least once. San Jon is a strange place at night.
Like I could resist this shot. You know I will never get done photographing this sign. Not if I live to be a thousand.
I was delighted to see the buildings across the street looking prosperous, with all sorts of little businesses in them.
Here’s one of the businesses across from the Swallow. I like the lights in the windows. Also: I shot this at an eighth of a second. Without a tripod. Don’t act like you’re not impressed.

As usual, I had a hard time thinking of a good reason to come home. I swear, if it weren’t for Ron and my animals, I would just vanish into the high desert one night and never return. I’d just disappear, living off the land, wandering back to Illinois to visit family now and then, and surfacing along 66 at random times, painting murals and selling photographs and just generally living like Bob Waldmire.

I keep trying to convince Ron that this is a viable retirement plan. So far, he’s not having any of it, but he said no the first 3,784 times I told him we needed a cat, too, so you never know….