Well I’m finally at the car I currently have (writing 2 years later?!?).  I got rid of the Lexus which was becoming less and less a luxury, oil leaking here and there, everywhere an oil leak.  I needed something reliable and more bang for the buck at the pump.  Gas price rate curves were crawling up the ceiling over $3 a pop (eventually 4).  I said, Justin, do the smart thing.  Enter Honda.

Autotrader to the rescue – a place 100 miles from home there was a used 2002 Civic w/ 35000 miles in a chevy dealership which had a great price than all buys in the metro.  I called, went, came back w/ a black, run on water, Civic, free coffee mug and chevy dealership calendar (yes!).  This well built Honda has a manual 5 speed w/ a 2.0 liter 4 cyl.  Its acually a fun zippy car to drive.

But the best thing about it is that the gas meter needle seems to be in slow motion.  I can go from Dallas and back and still have gas left-over.   That feels really good at a time when saving cash is crucial.

Did I mention its reliable?  Haven’t had one single issue w/ it yet.  That leads to a funny quick story.  I had the vehicle for probably almost a year.  At first I thought the door lock was broke.  I couldn’t use the auto-lock button to lock the car.  I still had a warranty on it so I took it in to the dealer and left them to fix it.  The mechanic called and said, “What’s wrong w/ the lock?”  Me: It won’t lock  Him: Yeah it does.   I go down to the dealer and he simply opens the handle at the same time hits the button – a Honda feature.  Me: Oh…
Well, I’ve had the Civic for about 3 to 4 years, and entering into the era of fatherhood, needing extra space for baby and needing to let my wife drive my car if need (its a manual).  Although the Civic hasn’t lost luster its that the driver has changing needs.  It was the perfect auto for the certain stage of life.

What will be next?

Last Saturday we went to a place that about half of Oklahoma has visited and the other half knows about.  This was Nat and I’s first visit.  Its up I-35 and just east on Route 66 in Arcadia (of Round Barn fame) (aracdia means idyllic vision of unspoiled wilderness, although its not the root meaning of the word – i digress).  Pops, basically, is a place of route 66 renaissance.  A revitalization of what Route 66 used to be – iconic, familial and peculiar.  You know, a place where if you build it, they will come.  Why?  Because its novel, accessible and family driven.  It’s novel because of two things: they have any soda pop that you would want (including all assortments of root beer) and its got a 6 story pop bottle in front of it.  Its accessible because its off of Route 66, just north of the city and has ample room to park.  Its family driven because they have a greasy spoon, soda jerk bar (very nice shakes/malts), and all the soda a kid can get a stomach ache on. 

I like the architecture of it as well – its essentially a glorification of the old road side gas stations of yesteryear – just blown up to ten times the size.  The 1000s of bottles hang in the huge front glass windows alluding to the real advertisement of cold beverages as most gas stations did and kinda still do.   You can even get gas under the huge expanse of the cantilevered overhang.

One other neat caveat of the place is an internet kiosk where you can send anyone in the world some soda – delivered to their front doorstep.

 Check out their fizzy web site: http://www.pops66.com/

The fella who is the lead of the other four guys is played by none only but Robert Duvall.  So all my guys get shot and die.  I manage to get shot in the neck and leg (its kind of weird getting shot in a dream, your brain sort of fills in what it thinks it feels like).  I remember takin out Duvall with a leg shot.  He noticably grimaced after that – thats one thing that was particular in my dream. 

But I remember having some satisfaction at the end of the shoot-out since I was still alive.  So I think my side won.

 I woke up and immediately felt my neck.

Well last night I had a dream where I was near one of the nuclear blasts at home.  It was really eery.  Feeling the first blast was weird.  It didn’t blow you away.  It felt as if the radiation came first and oozed your skin off, then the heat finally comes and your an ash pile. 

But here’s the thing about this dream, after I was killed it reoccured over and over and over.  And … I had the codes to halt the nuclear bomb from going off and was trying to get a hold of the person or thing that would stop the count down.  ( Is this a 24 episode?) The initial point that time went back to was somehow set by my watch or something.  I tried and tried to set it back further, to have enough time to call in the code.  So here’s the other thing, I started to prepare for my next time around, like putting the phone number on speed dial in my phone and possibly shielding myself from the blast or consulting others.  I don’t remember ever solving the problem.  And everytime the blast was really wierd and almost felt my body going through fall out.  – crazy

 Dreams can be interpreted and I think I can safely put forth the logic.

 I’ve been trying to keep on top of recent news on Iran and its quack leader, UN sanctions, nuclear-proliferation etc.  Also I’ve been playing a few vigee games where you can save where you left off – spelling the reason for the reoccurence of my dream, I suppose.

Mosquitos die!

From today’s standards the Spartans were a savage and horrific people.  Pagan as we would say today.  Possibly they were the most barbaric of pagans (still speaking in today’s vernacular terms)  They had their own systematic approach of eugenics, throwing any newborn off a cliff that didn’t appear to be suitable to a local committee’s standards.  Their social construct consisted of an entire slave population which had to be in check daily for fear of total annihilation, always declaring war upon the slaves in order to murder those who got out of place.  All were forced to be equal in a somewhat communistic society, where you could only use a broad axe to make your house (in order to displace any sign of luxury in the craftsmanship from finer tools.  The family was deemed almost non-existent, only allowing the men to sleep occasionally at their own house with their wife.  (No wonder they had population problems!)  Also their agoge – the training system to make the boys into a fierce warrior by the age of 20 – had very crude elements and wretched punishment.

It’s really a quagmire why they have been stuff of legends since their glory days and revered by many including our founding fathers and other governments.  But what guy wouldn’t admire or be interested in a warrior class people who perfected the art of war, drank black broth, wore manly armor, sword and shield and trained to be as stealthy as possible but also to have guts of a lion in battle.  One of the most epic, heroic and courage laden battles in all of history was fought by them - Thermopylae. 

So why not name your school after them or any valued entity?  Most men look up to strength and might, but also an ideal of daunted sacrifice for the ideas and the way of life that they hold.  They fought tooth and nail for them.  They were extremely pious people, missing a few battles (such as Marathon, most of the Spartans didn’t show up at Thermopaylae because of a festival) because they wanted to please their gods in the appointed festivals instead. 

It was a dance with sacrifice and extreme action.  Knowing when to be still but also when to unleash.