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: Houston is apparently the third largest city in the USA. I do believe it's more sprawled out than Los Angeles, however, which would put it in as no. 2. Robert met me at Nancy's and we drove up north and found the family dinner, the temple, the wedding, drove to San Antonio (which hasn't changed, the Alamo doesn't HAVE a basement), stayed with Anne and ensuing chaos, went to church and Davy's Eagle Court, and then Leonard and I drove back to Houston yesterday. We stopped along the way at an antique store in a little town, a "historic" town whose name now escapes me. I bought a milk bottle. I would have bought a black and white leather minidress--Yves St. Laurent!-- for Rachel, but I didn't have $50.

All over Houston to take Leonard to the airport today, and I go home tomorrow. I've met a bunch of Nancy's sewing friends.

: Nancy and I passed Houston's new ballpark, Enron Field. Yaaaaah! I asked her if a movement were afoot to change the name of the field, and she said it's quite a disappointment that unfortunate reference can never be elminated because "The Agreement" was to name the place Enron Field. Huh. A younger and less cynical me would have also thought that "The Agreement" might also have included not cheating/shafting/screwing the lower echelon workers. No such Agreement. No such company. I parody Aldonza's lament from Man of La Mancha: One set of books Is like another I don't know why Or who's to blame They'll dump on you Or on your brother It's all the same It's all the same. I have learned That when the stock falls No bailout comes (No White Knight came) It proves to me Behind the eight balls It's all the same It's all the same. Sheesh. I'm becoming even more of a Marxist. The front page of today's Houston Chronicle included a story about a laid-off Enron worker who observed the wholesale shredding of financial documents and used boxes of shreds she took from the hallways to pack and transport her personal belongings. She has now turned these shards over to the court. Duh-oh. If we can't have the White Knight, can we at least have the Red Queen?

: Drat. I forgot to put in my carriage return codes and the above paragraph is all one block and the editing feature only yields Leonard's 404 limerick.

: cf: A browsing Victorian chap

Encountered a server mishap

The page was no more:

"Alas! Four-oh-four!"

Enough with this limerick crap.


© 2001-2006 Frances Whitney.