Showing posts from February, 2009

The Last Week in Rockport

written Saturday, February 28, 2009 Rockport, TX If I don’t get this entry written and posted today I’ll have only three entries for the entire month of February. Even if I do I’ll have only four. I’ve had spells like this before… where I find it hard to write anything at all, much less something interesting. The combination of laziness and a lack of exploring new places is almost certainly the problem. Both are weak excuses aren’t they? But we’ll be heading out on new explorations and new adventures starting Monday and that should get the creative juices flowing again. For the past month or so we were thinking we’d head north to the Texas Hill Country and spend a week or two seeing more of that part of Texas. We spent a day up there last year and really liked the feel of it… rolling hills, German heritage, Luckenbach, etc. Then, as we’d turn eastward, we could’ve stopped in Austin to see the Capitol and the LBJ Museum and Library before making a beeline for the state line. But all t

Some News from my Hometown

written Wednesday, February 18, 2009 Rockport, TX In case you’ve missed reading all the major news stories the past few days… or your subscription to Time and Newsweek has run out… or you’ve been pre-occupied with the news about our failing economy and the attempts of an inept congress to deal with it all… I thought I’d perform a public service and provide a couple links to some big news out of my home town, Beaver Dam, Wisconsin. This is all courtesy of my Dad. Thanks Dad. The first one comes from the Town of Westford — the town that time forgot — which is located about 50 years west of Beaver Dam. It also happens to be where my sweetie, Dar, grew up as a child. Goat breaks into home, eats cake TOWN OF WESTFORD - What do you get when a goat follows a dog into a house? For Sherry Shirley of Westford the answer is a big mess. When she opened the front door of her home at W10690 Lake Road to let her dog in Saturday morning, a full-grown goat burst into the house, jumped onto

Restless in Rockport

written Thursday, February 12, 2009 Rockport, TX About a week ago, over breakfast, Dar informed me that she was going to recycle some brick wall sections from a building that was taken down, demolished, here at Sandollar Resort. What she had in mind was to replace the green fake-grass runner that we had put between the car and the front door of the bus-house to help keep shoes clean — it reduces the amount of dirt and sand we drag into the camper. She was thinking she’d take these broken sections of wall — where a number of bricks are still stuck together in odd shapes but small enough to handle — and dig them down into the sandy soil forming a brick sidewalk of sorts. Listening intently, it was clear to me she had way too time on her hands and has been away for too long from the gardening and landscaping she loved so much when we had a house. “Ok, how can I help?” “Just stay out of my way.” So, for the next two days she dug, and dragged, and dug some more. She got some help

Historic Goliad

written Saturday, February 07, 2009 Rockport, TX There aren’t many places in Texas with as much history as Goliad. A week ago last Tuesday Dar and I trekked to this little town located about an hour north northwest from Rockport. We thought we’d spend a few hours exploring Goliad’s historic sites and still have enough time to sneak over to Victoria, about 30 miles to the east, for a short shopping excursion. Well, our desired “early” start wasn’t as early as hoped. We got the wheels rolling about 9am and arrived in the Goliad area a little after 10. The first stop was Presidio La Bahia. During the early days of American history this part of the continent belonged to Spain. The Spanish believed the only way to keep this distant land under the Spanish flag was to populate it with Spanish people. But in the 17th and 18th century there were few Spanish who were up for relocation — not to mention an uncertain and dangerous existence in a far-off land. So the Spanish leaders did the