Sunshine, leftovers and nausea, Texas style.

It’s official. Mom is flying home today, and Sam is driving her to the airport as I write this post. The autumn weather — 70° with sunshine — is perfect, there’s zero traffic and her flight is on time. The only thing that could be better is if mom decided to stay another week because she’s adorable … picture a miniature Sam with lipstick.

I haven’t commented on the World Series for the last couple of days because I’m still recovering from the frustration of it all. I’ve lived in several major cities in my lifetime and not one has ever produced a championship team. I refer mostly to the Chicago Cubs, the saddest story in baseball history. Their last World Series win was in 1908 … the same year that Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid were killed in Bolivia, Henry Ford manufactured the first Model T and Henri Matisse opened his own art school in France.

And now I’m stuck with the Texas Rangers — our very own Chicago Cubs wannabes — who go down in flames after two consecutive American League pennants. I’m still slightly nauseated by the whole experience but not enough to actually skip lunch, which is at the top of my agenda as soon as I finish typing. I’ve got good leftovers today.

I guess that’s about it for now. I’m glad you stopped by. Next time bring chips.

Winners and losers, up close and personal.

Since writing last night’s post I’ve endured a day of monumental ups and downs. Please read on to see for yourself.

Game six of the World Series last night gave all of us extra innings of serious heartburn and I’m not especially enthusiastic about watching game seven, which is currently underway. If the Rangers blow it tonight I might have to beat the crap out of somebody.

After the game at 1 a.m. I sat up to watch the recorded 90-minute nail-biter finale episode of “Project Runway” because otherwise the name of the winner would be all over the Internet and screw up the suspense for me. In case you care, Anya won season nine. She designs idiotic Caribbean clothes for emaciated women with no visible breasts, as pictured below. I think it might be difficult to adapt an outfit like this for a winter in Cleveland, but maybe I’m just being a little picky.

My Freestyle Lite diabetes glucose meter croaked this morning and Sam had to buy a replacement battery at the pharmacy … the same kind of battery you’d buy for a wristwatch, and it cost FIVE DOLLARS. A portrait of my meter appears at right.

We spent most of the day today at the Choctaw Casino in Oklahoma and had another wonderful time. All of us brought home BIG BUCKS, especially mom, who walked away with nearly $48 after a brief but memorable affair with a Dean Martin slot machine that sang to her during a bunch of free spins. We also had a nice lunch at the casino’s buffet and I think the security guards were extra friendly. Sam and mom posed for me in front of a waterfall in the lobby.

Half an hour after we got home this afternoon Treeland showed up to replace the dead autumn blaze maple in our front yard with a lovely Texas ash. I hope all Howdygram fans will feel free to pray for the health of our newest family member. I believe the tree is Jewish but I already told Sam not to count on a bar mitzvah in 2024.

Incidentally, coming up in tomorrow’s post is an exciting Howdygram exclusive … THE TEN WORST HALLOWEEN CANDIES EVER. Thank you for reading this.

Rick Perry, man of a thousand stupid viewpoints.

Our creepy governor, Rick “The Joker” Perry, has been making news again. Speaking on a political TV program in St. Petersburg, Florida, a couple of days ago, Perry now says he was “just kidding” when he questioned the authenticity of President Obama’s birth certificate … obviously a retreat following the mainstream GOP’s rebuke. This is in spite of the fact that Perry has been hanging out with the nutjob birther movement since 2008 and as recently as last week referred to Obama’s “forged birth certificate” in a conversation with Donald Trump.

Perry also wants us to believe he “wasn’t serious” about a state program to offer the Confederate flag on Texas license plates even though he provided full support to the Department of Public Safety (all Perry appointees) when they presented their proposal to the legislature. Apparently Perry flip-flopped after massive voter backlash and a petition with 22,000 signatures demanding withdrawal of the program.

Apparently there’s no end to this yahoo’s sense of humor, and Perry’s wife isn’t much better … she emphatically believes he was “annointed by God” to run for President. We’re sure a lucky bunch here in Texas!

In case you’re interested, we’re getting ready for game six of the World Series (postponed last night due to crappy weather in St. Louis) and just ordered a small mountain of food from China City, which should be here in about half an hour. Because nothing says post-season baseball like a bucket of chicken chow mein.

Thanks for stopping by.

Dining, dancing and here comes the cold front.

In case you’ve been looking for a reason to shoot off fireworks the week before Halloween, today is CHICKEN FRIED STEAK DAY, as big a deal in Texas as concealed handguns and remembering the Alamo. A chicken-fried steak — in case you don’t know — is a slab of cheap pounded round steak dredged in batter, deep-fried and slathered with a dense white gravy that’s frequently mistaken for wallpaper paste. This is the cornerstone of a fine, nutritious Texas meal when accompanied by a couple of canned vegetables and instant mashed potatoes, as illustrated below.

Incidentally, since chicken-fried steak doesn’t usually appear on restaurant menus outside the Lone Star State you’ll find 108 recipe variations of this Texas classic on Cooks.com guaranteed to delight your family and unsuspecting friends. A Lipitor parfait is recommended for dessert.

Last night Sam and I kept mom company while she watched three consecutive hours of “Dancing with the Stars.” This included a two-hour episode that I recorded for her on Monday plus Tuesday’s BIG ELIMINATION SHOCKER.

While I realize this is an intensely popular program, in whose delusional fantasyland are D-listers like Rob Kardashian, Nancy Grace and Chaz Bono considered STARS?

This is all such ghastly, mind-numbing crap that it makes “Operation Repo” look like “Masterpiece Theater.” When Chaz Bono was eliminated last night she he whined that the judges were being “too judgmental” — what a concept! — by referring to her him as a penguin and kicking him off the show. They were, in fact, just being kind to the viewers at home because Chaz Bono dances like a CLYDESDALE.

And NOTHING could have ever prepared me for the sight of Nancy Grace — CNN’s insufferable legal Rottweiler — decked out in sequins. This woman may be built for crucifying defendants on national television before they have their day in court, but she’s NOT built for dancing the jive in a push-up bra.

In weather news, we’ve got a cold front on the way! Weather.com says the temperature is supposed to dip into the upper 40s overnight and stay there for about 24 hours, and steady rain is in the forecast all day tomorrow. This is actually extremely good news for drought-stricken Texas, and a day of rain doesn’t bother me whatsoever. I’ve got a pile of excellent movies stored in my DVR — including Earth vs. the Flying Saucers and The Gamma People — and more than enough material for a variety of additional meaningless Howdygram posts.

Don’t forget game six of the World Series tonight and thank you for reading this.

Passing the Buck.

Howdy. The house is quiet, Sam and mom are playing cards in the dining room and I might go back to bed after I write this post.

They did it. The Texas Rangers won game five of the World Series last night 4 to 2, but it was a nail-biter until the very last pitch — a situation made even worse by FOX-TV’s dull-as-mud announcer Joe Buck spewing an exhausting litany of nonstop crap stats, such as “He has the biggest feet in the American League West and since 2004 has never successfully stolen a base in any post-season game where the national anthem was sung by a brunette.” And just between us, I think Joe Buck was Gumby’s twin separated at birth. It’s something about their necks.

Game six is in St. Louis on Wednesday. GO RANGERS!

We’ll be taking mom somewhere wonderful for lunch today — I vote for Royal China — but our activities for the rest of the week will depend on an incoming weather system. Today will still be perfect with a high of 85° and lots of sun. Starting tomorrow, though, we’ve got thunderstorms coming in the afternoon followed by a genuine cold front and a full day of RAIN AND WIND on Thursday with a high in the 50s. (Rain! Yay!) On Friday after all the hoo-hah dies down mom wants to go back to the Choctaw Casino because yesterday was definitely BIG FUN for all of us even though nobody had much luck at the slots except yours truly. I won enough to pay Sam back the $40 he gave me for gambling with a swell little profit for myself.

I suppose I should go back to sleep for a while. I’m done writing, I don’t feel like playing cards and it’s way too early to get motivated about anything else, such as laundry, making the bed or eating breakfast. Wake me at 9. Thank you for reading this.

Go Rangers!

Everybody around here went to bed early last night — immediately after the Rangers nailed game four of the World Series — but I hung out a little longer to watch an essential program I’d recorded a couple of hours earlier … part two of the “Real Housewives of New Jersey” reunion special on Bravo now that season three has come to an end.

For those of you who avoid this crap poop pop culture phenomenon, the “Real Housewives of New Jersey” is a reality show about five dysfunctional sequin addicts married to illiterate mafia wannabes. You can tell they’re all related by the way they talk to — and about — each other, and the reunion was a vicious, profanity-laced hate-fest that would make Jerry Springer proud. The “housewives” all wore glitter eye shadow and three quarts of lip gloss, made fake gagging sounds when they discussed each other’s husbands, and then everybody ganged up on Teresa, who deserved it, at least twice. This is truly excellent television.

Teresa is a Neanderthal and she has four equally-Neanderthalish daughters. She and her husband, Giuseppe Neanderthal, are $11 million in debt because sequins are expensive. Plus he’s facing 10 years in prison for defrauding his former business partner and for driving drunk with a fake ID.

If bimbos like this were involved in MY life I’d be first in line for the witness protection program and move to another continent. However, the reunion was so damn good I might have to watch it again. 

In other news, we’re taking mom to the Choctaw Casino today for a few hours at the penny slots and a swell buffet lunch. The buffet part is particularly important because they have a SUGAR-FREE DESSERT BAR with banana cream pie that’s so good I might even skip the entrees. The only reason we can’t leave RIGHT NOW is because there’s a dense fog event going on in north Texas. Weather.com says it’s supposed to lift by 10 a.m. but it’s awfully hard to believe them. (They lie.)

For your possible interest, below is a photo of George W. Bush throwing out the first pitch at last night’s World Series game.

Thank you for reading this.

Enjoying reality.

In a word, last night’s weather event was a real DOOZY that rocked us out of bed at 1:55 in the morning and included torrential rain, 70 m.p.h. wind gusts and extremely loud HAIL, key ingredients of every self-respecting thunderstorm that wants to call itself “severe.” This one definitely fit the bill. I don’t know the total rainfall yet, but remind me to send a thankyou note to somebody because we need all the rain we can get.

At 9 this morning we drove to north Dallas for brunch at Blue Mesa, which was — as always — outstanding. Al was his typical tip-worthy self, fawning all over us, dripping with charm and fulfilling Sam’s grapefruit juice fantasies with at least two gallons of fresh-squeezed. My favorite southwestern corn relish, however, was a little disappointing. Mom said it was “nice and crunchy” (I’m assuming that’s a compliment); to me it just tasted like smelly feet. At first I was afraid my taste disorder (see earlier post) had come back, but since everything else on my plate was absolutely yum I have to stick to the smelly feet critique. Mom loved the teeny flans and the guacamole was crazy good. God bless avocados.

We’re an hour away from game four of the World Series but I honestly don’t know if I can stand another evening with the Rangers and Cardinals after last night’s catastrophe. I might have to crawl under a rock with an old movie and the “Real Housewives of New Jersey.” But never mind where I’ll be an hour from now … first I have to figure out what’s for dinner around here. Mom and Sam, who are walking around the block, both requested lox and bagels; I’m considering a pile of steamed veggies and leftover meatballs from last night.

Life is swell. Thanks for stopping by.

There’s always tomorrow.

A few final thoughts from Howdygramland before I drift off to bed.

Mom arrived safe and sound from Los Angeles this afternoon. I cooked a really nice dinner at home followed by some raisins, and then we decide to watch game three of the World Series, which is being played at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington. This is actually a HUGE MISTAKE for after-dinner entertainment. Within an hour the Rangers are already drowning 5 to 0, Nolan Ryan looks like he passed a kidney stone and Sam and I are shrieking obscenities at the TV. I start to feel nauseated and suggest we’d better consider a cute movie instead before everybody has a stroke. We watched The Great Race on DVD.

By now, of course, everybody knows the Rangers lost 16 to 7, a score that must have shattered some kind of moronic World Series record for Most Humiliating Loss By a Team With a Home Field Advantage.

On a happier note, we’re taking mom to Blue Mesa in the morning for brunch, where a person can load up on all-you-can-eat fajitas, street tacos, guacamole, sweet potato chips, waffles, adobe pie, designer omelets and teeny tiny flans. They also have the best southwestern corn relish on the planet and Al, our favorite waiter. This glorious food fest will be preceded by a large herd of thunderstorms, which are heading south from Oklahoma as I write this post.

Night-night. Thank you for reading this.

In defense of baseball.

Sam always tells me that he likes football better than baseball because baseball is TOO SLOW. Since he’s sound asleep and not here to defend his position, I’ll go out on a limb and tell you he’s DEAD WRONG.

Aside from the fact that baseball’s rules are easier to understand, the umpires wear great little outfits, the weather’s always better and who doesn’t love a sing-along during the seventh inning stretch, please consider the following:

• A baseball game never stops unless somebody runs out to the mound for half a minute to find out if the pitcher has to pee or wants a stick of gum.
• You don’t see a couple hundred yahoos with clip boards, bandages, head phones and Gatorade hanging out along the first base line.
• Every movement on the field doesn’t require an instant replay on the Jumbotron or a 20-minute review by the commissioner of baseball, six announcers, the general managers of both teams and a committee of fans from the right field bleachers.
• When a player hits a line drive, four umpires don’t crawl around with tape measures to make sure he actually ran 90 feet to first base.

In addition:

• Baseball is an all-American sport featuring the finest athletes from Cuba, the Dominican Republic and Venezuela.
• If it rains everybody can run inside to buy a hotdog.
• You don’t have to be the CEO of General Motors to afford a couple of box seats.

I would also like to add GO RANGERS because they won game two of the World Series last night. The next three games will be played here in north Texas.

Thank you for reading this.

Fried rice and the seventh-inning stretch.

Before I forget, here’s a brief message for my brother-in-law David:

Hey, sports fans — the World Series starts tonight! As if we couldn’t be more excited here because the Rangers won the American League pennant, all my favorite Chinese restaurants are offering WORLD SERIES CARRY-OUT DISCOUNTS so a person can eat Mongolian Chicken in her bathrobe and watch TV at the SAME TIME. Seriously, this is so exciting I almost can’t stand it.

Tonight’s game starts at 7. I’m opening the soy sauce at 6:45.

In other news, my very cute mother-in-law (see photo below with Sam) arrives Saturday for an eight-day visit and we’ve been busy trying to put together a fun-packed itinerary for her. So far we’ve got excursions to our new patio, the Choctaw Casino, the Dallas Arboretum and maybe a museum. Our restaurant choices are The Black-eyed Pea, Sunday brunch at Blue Mesa Grill, Smoke, Mariano’s Hacienda, Royal China (home of the original “noodle dude”) and Sammy’s Barbecue in Uptown. Don’t tell anybody, but all of a sudden I’m exceptionally hungry.

We won’t need to do a driving tour of Dallas because this is mom’s third visit and she’s already seen all the high spots — including the famous Book Depository and the ever-popular “grassy knoll.”

Thanks for stopping by.

Mazel tov to our local baseball stars.

The big hoo-hah around here a couple of hours ago was the Texas Rangers’ stupendous 15 to 5 win over the Detroit Tigers, earning them a second consecutive American League pennant and another trip to the World Series. Slugger Nelson Cruz, pictured below, easily won MVP for hitting several thousand home runs.

The only thing that could make me happier would be the Chicago Cubs in a World Series against ANYBODY, but I’m pretty sure I’ll never live long enough to see it. The Cubs haven’t won a World Series since 1908 or a National League pennant since 1945 — the longest drought of any professional sports team EVER. It’s enough to make a person kick the crap out of her Cracker Jack.

Thank you for reading this.

Sssh. We're skipping Halloween.

Halloween has been canceled in north Texas this year. Don’t ring my doorbell and stay off my front lawn. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a World Series underway and all of us in Dallas are watching the Rangers on TV. Tell your kids to go buy their own Milk Duds and Dots, okay?

However, as long as I’m talking about the World Series, I’d be a little happier right now if the Giants were a crappy team and we could beat them. Whenever the camera zooms in on Nolan Ryan sitting behind the dugout he looks like Mister Grumpy Face. Last time I checked the score it was Giants 3, Rangers 0 at the bottom of the 8th.

Before I forget, I tried another product from Schwan’s last week, and this one’s definitely a winner. I didn’t expect frozen tamales to be this good. You just wrap two in a wet paper towel, nuke them for three minutes and poof, you’ve got a pair of decent beef tamales. And they’re cute, too. I can’t wait to introduce a few of them to Sam.

I also should mention that my birthday begins in 90 minutes and I’m not feeling very well tonight. At this point my only symptoms are tiredness and no appetite, but nevertheless I think presents, get-well emails and lemon jello might do the trick. Thank you in advance for your concern and generosity.