Trulucks

The Cuisine: American: Seafood and Steak
The Beverage: Liberty School Cabernet, from Paso Robles (it is in California.) Exceptionally mild and mellow, very easy and subtle to drink.
The Food: Officially called ‘The Mixed Grill’, I ordered a ‘sauté of tenderloin medallions, grilled shrimp and chicken in a duet of sauces with grilled onion rings and garlic potatoes.” While the shrimp and chicken seemed more then slightly overcooked, a bit strong and nothing subtle about them, the tenderloin was a thing of fables and folklore. It was the most tender, almost flaky steak I have ever had, medium rare to perfection. The flavors I remember being quite complementary, though it is quite frankly lost in a haze of culinary pleasure.
The Atmosphere: I am a big fan of this restaurant. It is very New York, with a raised dining room, dark mahogany and cherry furnishings, low hung art-deco light fixtures. The bar was “marble” with lights under neath, which sounds over the top but really had a pleasant effect. Wait staff was attentive but reserved; wearing traditional white, double breasted coats you don’t see often enough. It was rather quiet, a few business meetings and dates but more of a frequented spot to relax then a place to be seen. I like that.
Rating: 8 of 10

A Solitary Look at the Best of Austin

For someone as relational as I, it is a some what melancholy experience to be somewhere so unique, intriguing and captivating as Austin but have no one to share it with but my own inner demons. I'm not being unfriendly by avoiding my co-workers in the evening hours, but by the end of the day I am usually ready to be away from most of them. Not to mention that they really aren't the fine dining types. However, despite the sadder sides, I have been determined to see the spectrum of Texas. I'll give you a snapshot on what the government's dime is feeding me.

9/24
Malaga Tapas
The Cuisine: Spanish
The Beverage: Pinot Noir, Argentina? Smooth and good, hint of spice in the Latin American tradition.
The Food: I ordered seared beef tenderloin with pita bread and a mellow cream sauce. Tapas are appetizer sized, and just about right to take the edge off, to still enjoy the flavors without the burden of bloatation. Wonderfully subtle, the meat cooked to a sunset-perfect pink, the spread an observant compliment.
Atmosphere: Very Pearl District, but more confident and mature. Often times the Pearl District is trying to be hip but ends up just being trendy, Malaga Tapas is a bit more permanent feeling. Perhaps it is a product of time. The setting is a long warehouse like room, low light, lots of 30-somethings in Banana Republic clubbing shirts. The patronage was more couples then groups of friends or singles. A bit clinical and austere at times, but that is often the price paid for hipness.
Rating: 7 or 10
(A side note: The Chef showed a personal interst in most of his creations by delivering his creations himself. Much appreciated. It says he is not ashamed of his food.)

The Quotes of FEMA

Nothing like a little cross-cultural polination to add to your repartiour of pithy phrases...

Lord love a duck
Fine, very,very fine
Hotter n pepper pudding
Not the easiest street on the block to ride.
Put your head between your legs and kiss your butt good-bye
The sun don't shine up the same dog's butt all the time.
I'm so confused I don't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt.

Austin and Rita

First off, thanks for all the postings. They bring a smile to my curly head through out the day as I have opportunity to check. I am in Austin now, and living downtown which is an improvement over the Fort Worth burbs, walking distance from the State Capitol, the University of Texas and the Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Library. None of which I have visited yet. But soon!!

Subdued delight. That is the best way I can describe the typical reaction of a FEMA-type to the announcement of an oncoming storm. Their face says 'yeah, that's a bummer, lots of death, destruction and carnage' but their eyes twinkle in anxious anticipation of the oncoming drama and adrenaline and self-importance that will be theirs. Hurricane Rita, which threatens to delay my return home indefinitely, is the cause of much hidden joy around here. Today, someone will run in to my cubicle, trying, unsuccessfully, to look worried and anxious, while telling me that Hurricane Rita will be a class 4 by this time tomorrow, and their voice will crack with excitement sending their weak facade of concern into shambles. Meanwhile, Rita barrel's for the Texas coast with the cascading wrath of a jealous goddess. She is no respecter of persons, but pours her unmitigated power upon a defenseless land like a two year old child sweeps away tinker toys at the smallest provocation.

On another note, I woke up with this bug on my face this morning. I can think of a few better companions who would be better early morning snuggle-buddies. But I appreciate my hard-shelled friend's efforts.

I would post more, but I have promised myself to see Austin. Last night I was tired and frustrated and ended up laying on my bed dozing for most of the evening. Tonight I shall put aside the weights of laziness that do entangle and depress, dawn the trappings of Columbus, Cortez, Magellan and Polo, and venture into the perilous unknowns of Austin.

Baseball as Therapy

Yesterday we were given a half-day off, so I napped extensively in the oxygen-starved humidity of my hotel room and then drove to Arlington to see a Rangers game. It was an evening at the ballpark that novelists only dream of, complete with sticky Indian-summer air and the mellow buzz of a near-capacity crowd. The game was superb, with the home team coming back from a 6-4 deficit in the bottom of the ninth to win on a close-call slide at home plate. As cliched as this may sound, I sat next to an older Texan who fought in the Korean War and drilled oil wells across Texas. We sat on the third-base line, talked of baseball, politics and family most of the evening. If that's not Americana then what is? George W. would be proud that his stadium was put to such proper use last night; when I am a team owner someday, I want to create a thousand such encounters every night. Ballparks are like churches: community, fellowship, symmetry all blend to create a magical air that lends cares weightless and invisible. For a few hours, the world is simple and right. Here's a few photos:

View from my seat. Texas Rangers vs. Seattle Mariners. It was hard to know for whom to root.

After the game there was a fireworks display just for the sake of blowing things up I think. Or to celebrate how big Texas is and how happy everyone is to be from Texas. It's worse then a cult.

More fireworks celebrating how cool Texas is. Forget the USA, it's all about Texas. "Ya gotta see to believe..."

"Summer Skin" by Death Cab for Cutie

I have been trying to put my finger on emo's allure. Really, in the bigger scheme of music, it is pretty unimaginative. I liken this CD, which I purchased to help pass long hours on Texas roads, to sad cotton candy. Nothing new, nothing crazy, nothing you really remember beyond the advertising jingle type tune stuck in your head, but it works. In that sense part of me wonders if it isn't like folk music of our parents' generation, only more vague in an attempt to be subtle. I think it appeals to me becuase it deals with real emotions from a pragmatic, 10,000 foot type perspective. I find it empowering to face sadness head on. In a sense, I don't feel as helpless if I think I have a real perspective on what is happening. Emo is a tool for that, or at least a convincing placebo.

Squeaky swings and tall grass
The longest shadows ever cast
The water's warm and children swim
And we frolicked about in our summer skin

I don't recall a single care
Just greenery and humid air
Then Labor day came and went
And we shed what was left of our summer skin

On the night you left I came over
And we peeled the freckles from our shoulders
Our brand new coats so flushed and pink
And I knew your heart I couldn't win
Cause the seasons change was a conduit
And we left our love in our summer skin

Thought you might find this story interesting. The story came from the center I am working out of. The Dennis mentioned in the article is my boss. There are around 110 fire fighters here from around the country, pretty amazing individuals, especially the gentleman they picked to lead them, who they just call "Chief"; he is the dictionary definition of a leader. He's head of a firehouse up in Philadelphia and truly a class act.

He is a Marine in every sense of the word, with all the confidence and authority you'd expect plus some. However, he has a remarkable sense of humility you’d be surprised to see in a Marine, or any man of authority. He has a grasp on the power of respecting those around him, making the success of his authorities the top priority and attacking the task in front of you with the tenacity of a starved hyena. No detail is unnoticed, uncatalogued or uncalculated, yet he’s effective because he delegates without second thought to people he trusts.

He has astonishingly transformed some pretty disgruntled fire fighters who expected to be in New Orleans flying helicopters and saving lives into a cohesive and energized group of administrative operatives. “Chief” gave a Patton-type speech which would do any commanding officer proud... he had the room on their feet, inspired by what they have become, despite themselves.

They are doing outreach to hurricane victims, not exactly a fire fighter's dream, but they have effectively registered hundreds of individuals over the course of three days through the thoughtful organization of a military type command structure and a lot of 14 hour days. They are truly committed and selfless, and not just in the heroic, burning building type way, but the methodical, tedious, unglorious way that doesn't have the dramatic glint cameras and culture defines as true heroism. But it's more gripping I think, if you have the eyes to see, because it is no momentary choice of adrenaline, it's the hourly, daily, weekly decision to put aside self for the well being of others. It's real, it's day-to-day, and it's life. Anyways, all that to say, they ended up saving some lives despite their less then glamorous posting in Fort Worth. Sorry for the soliloquy. I’m sure it sounds corny from the hazy view of distance.

  

quiet Texas moon
falling light lonely for you
airport beckons me

  

there is a moon in Texas
much like our moon at home.
it dances among the clouds
like a cork on ocean foam.

i tried to break a piece
to send you in the mail.
but he asked me to leave in tact
his skin so bright and pale.

  

Hi all -

I wanted to give a quick update from what is truly the BIG state of Texas. I have seen much more then my share of it over the past 4 days... close to 600 miles to give an approximitation. I am currently sitting in a conference room at the Will Rogers Convention Center in Dallas, where hopefully I will be staying for the remainder of my tour of duty down here. The room is a makeshift command post, movie style with a big square of tables covered with chords, laptops, phones and TVs.

This location is what is called a DRC, or Disaster Recovery Center. It started as a shelter but has transitioned to more of an outreach operation. It is a place for refugees to come and register for assistance, but also a command post for sending out teams into the local areas going shelter to shelter to get people in a more stable position in regards to housing and employment.

My duties are to serve as a liaison between 5 Congressional offices and FEMA. This basically means trouble shooting concerns the Congressmen have about issues arising in their area as relates to FEMA. A small snapshot are things such as reimbursement issues for public entities, disgruntled refugees and shelters, miscommunications about what is really going on. It is a good fit for my background. However, coming in to the monstrosity of Federal Government with a new-born's knowledge has proven challenging. FEMA has a complicated operations structure and a frightening obsession with acronyms. Not to mention that FEMA is not really a teacher's favorite right now: my FEMA badge is enough to get me shot in some parts of the country. But the steep learning curve has done wonders for my education. So most of my day I spend running around yapping on my FEMA-issued cell phone and looking very important... but I really have no clue what is going on. Its an exercise in masquerade.

The whole thing is a fascinating dichotomy of organized chaos: I can't quite make up my mind if I'm impressed that things get done out of all the murkiness, or I'm disgusted by how haphazard it all is. Maybe a combination of both.

I have only two complaints. One, I am tired and have difficulty relaxing. Since I've been here I've driven from Dallas to Denton, Denton to Austin, then Austin to Fort Worth. The freeway system is a living nightmare beyond your wildest fears and makes for an exhausting trip. Constantly unpacking only to pack again also makes me weary. That, on top of 12 hour days that start at 6:00 Texas time, or 4:00 Oregon time, makes me tired. I get back to the hotel around 8:00 or so and just want to go to sleep. But I wake up on edge having no time to decompress. Second complaint: the water here is brewed in the pits of hell. It tastes, and I'm not even exaggerating, like liquefied mold. I've been in the south before and tasted bad water, but this stuff is horrendous. I wouldn't feed it to my dog.

Anyway, just wanted to say hi to all and let you know I wasn't swimming through sewage in New Orleans. Just drinking it out of the tap in Fort Worth.

Love to all...

  

i dissect and dismember you
break you down across your imperfections,
put you back together in the image of a god.
does anyone know your beauty better,
and has anyone else seen the depth of your darkness?

i hide behind many hats for you
with thermometer and forceps
scalpel and tape measure
through bloody clouds I am desperate
to make you right.

but honestly,
when I'm naked and alone
I realize that I
still need you
still need your heartbeat
to make the world come alive.