A Google search for "Daniel Deronda" finds a full transcription done in Japan. The version for television is very beautiful to see, and particular attention is paid to millinery. In the interests of drama, of course, it pays more attention to the Gwendolen/Grandcourt part of the plot than it does to Daniel himself. The BBC and the PBS sites for the show are not at all alike. The PBS questions for reading clubs are so bad! The actress playing Gwendolen is named Romola.

So far the experiment with the Grisoft free antivirus program has been a success. We're not just putting our own affairs in order; we're taking care of that aging computer as well.

In a sort of nightmare, I heard "If I Knew You Were Coming, I'd've Baked a Cake." Anyone who thinks that the 'fifties were great for any reason should listen to this song, which was a number-one song on the 1950 Billboard list for ten weeks.

It's difficult to find reading that doesn't haunt dreams or that doesn't seem frivolous.

A dandy little table of temperature highs and lows for Austin is revealing, to say the least.

The narcissi are now done for the season. So are hyacinths. The progression of Dutch irises has been: blue, purple, yellow with white tops, and then entirely yellow. All are still in bloom. Miraculously there has been a return of Dutch tulips. Our species tulips have been, in order: Lilac Wonder, clusiana, Tubergen's Gems (saxatilis). Last year was a peak year for Lilac Wonder; this year, Tubergen's Gems are doing best and are still with us. I found a site for a South Austin gardener who also loves species tulips.

The wonderful prints and posters on the wall at Little City are by Action Figure, an outfit that designs a lot of logos and identity material, some with a retro 'thirties and 'forties feel. The work on the walls at Little Cit uses red, brown, black, mostly, and a lot of the work is printed on brown kraft paper. Much of the effect of the work is created by use of typefaces, not by imagery.

The New Yorker has gone the way of the Wall Street Journal. Now, it can no longer be bothered to spell the name of Thelonious Monk correctly. Since we all have so much to think about these days, I don't have the heart to embark upon a true rant about the trivial, not even the fact that the high today was 77 degrees but people with air conditioners are already firing them up.

At last someone appreciates the Goody Super Comb as much as I do. I bought two in 1971 in the Thrifty Drug in Gallup, New Mexico, and have had them ever since. Because of their size, it's difficult to lose them, and they are extremely durable objects. I'd hate to guess where these items are manufactured these days, but they're still out there and available for purchase, although Goody is now a part of Newell-Rubbermaid.

Volksmarch people are all over the neighborhood and make a beautiful sight. We still have an amazing show of tulips, both species and Dutch. Surprisingly, the overwintered trailing nasturtiums have produced at least a dozen blooms this week. Staying busy and constructive seems best at this time. It's been good to hear that W. is safely in Barranquitas, good to know that the tax returns are on their way, good to know that M., A., and T. got out of here and are back home while the getting's good. The daily page for today from "Strength for Service to God and Country: Daily Devotional Messages for Those in the Services" (copyright 1942) is entitled "On God's Side" and begins "It is one thing to have God on our side. It is a very different thing..." and goes on just as one might imagine.

The guys on the KAZI Breakfast Club were in rare form this morning, with all the world news out there available for commentary, but took time to recognize the passing of Irma Rangel and of Lynne Thigpen. In La Prensa there was a neat photo of Gonzalo Barrientos and an old La Raza banner at Irma's funeral. Nights are less restful than ever, since now its bullhorns, drum cadences, and the police enjoying their new helicopter at all hours and flying very low.

It'll take time to read through all the 'zines picked up along the SxSW trail. One called "World Famous Crazy Wild: More Fun than You Can Poke a Stick At" has no on-line presence, but reviewed the Ocularist, which was shown also at Park City and there also did not agree with the stomachs of the squeamish. Another is by a Rick Bradford, about to move to Fredericksburg, called "I Am What I Am." This person also posts frequently at the Poopsheet News. I have won an entire lifetime's supply of Suave (that's the cheapie knockoff toiletries brand) "aromatherapy" products, one scent said to be "uplifting" and the other, "energizing." Both make the user olfactory akin to Juicy Fruit gum or perhaps a Dreamsicle or Creamsicle. Cars near the Capitol are now subject to random stop-and-search operations.

Katz's was on the itinerary. The candidate himself, as usual, was in evidence, and the souvenir counter found us taking free campaign buttons and for-pay T-shirts and funny little friction-powered Katz's yellow taxicabs with opening doors.

We didn't hear much SxSW music except by accident, not even thre free shows: Tejano night and the Gourds and Derailers at Auditorium Shores, for example, and I think visitors would have had fun with the Cornell Hurd Band at the Texicalli. Neo-surf sounds were emanating from Threadgill's one evening. There's just not enough time. It was tough enough finding talk time.

A free copy of Quicken has been kicking around for months now. As a much-needed distraction aid, it has finally feen installed. It's easy to see how people become Quicken nuts. Already it's clear, if there'd ever been any doubt at all, that we're entertainment-poor. We must be real outliers when it comes to magazine, newspaper, and book consumption at our own expense. In the movie department we're not so bad, but we're certainly up there in the live-music department. For clothes and transportation, we must be an outlier household in the other direction.

Some of us went to Butler Park and cooked steaks and played poker, and others of us saw two segments of the SxSW film program and part of the peace parade. Those who missed Girl Wrestler should be sorry. It was filmed mostly right around here, and the protagonist and her family were at the screening. It would have been a shame to miss the program of documentaries. One was a true stinker, a vanity production featuring Herb Alpert, called Music for Your Eyes. One was great and one a prize: Nutria, with music by D'Jalma Garnier. He and Hedwig Gorski used to live in Austin. We still have one of the old pet-sitting fliers. The website for The Ocularist is better than the movie, although certainly the film was strong enough to be too strong for some people's stomachs. We all enjoyed Guys and Dolls and some of us enjoyed Miss Alabama Nursing Home more than others did. Along the way, we made quick refueling stops at the Hideout and at Little City. The best peace sign seen was "Stop Mad Cowboy Disease," although Natalie Maines came in for compliments expressed several ways. We also enjoyed seeing and hearing pipers in advance of St. Paddy's nameday.

The Hyatt on Town Lake has aged nicely. The dining room produces very acceptable biscuits, the kind that don't need to hide under gravy. I love it that the hotel's website has an Austin guide provided by the Frommer's people. It's no wonder that walking in Stacy Park is much preferable to walking near Town Lake in the vicinity of the hotel: bat guano, grackle leavings, general smells of stagnant water, dead fish, underdressed unattractive human speciments. We did, however, enjoy seeing five giant red-eared sliders on a rock, as well as coots and scaup and racing crews here for spring practice. Java Noodles was better than expected and the Clay Pit really no better than Taj Palace, although the atmosphere was, in fact, better. I remember the Bertram Building when it was the Red Tomato.

There are supposedly more registrants this year than last year for SouthBySouthWest, but you wouldn't know it by the number of people on the streets. There seem to be fewer free concerts. The guys on the KAZI Breakfast Club call it SouthBySouthWhite, and it's easy to see why.

They're making poor Alberto Estrella hug statues of Napoleon and howl like a wolf. This must be modern villainy in the novelas.

Friday was probably Cube's first movie. We've seen previews for all the Fridays but this is the first time we'd caught one. Pacing isn't good, but I love the menace of the creaking bicycle and the way that all the families on the street were thanked for the location. The sound track is great, also.

Diversions are dwindling. The Big Store we've seen before. Forget the odious Tenement Symphony and Tony Martin, but there is a great giant production number, even if this is lesser Marx Brothers.

Diversions are dwindling. The Big Store we've seen before. Forget the odious Tenement Symphony and Tony Martin, but there is a great giant production number, even if this is lesser Marx Brothers.

Diversions are dwindling. The Big Store we've seen before. Forget the odious Tenement Symphony and Tony Martin, but there is a great giant production number, even if this is lesser Marx Brothers.

An old garden diary surfaced, covering three or four years back in the late 'seventies, early 'eighties. Each year was different from every other year and nothing has changed about that! Last year ipheions may have been first; this year they're tardy. Hyacinths are going wonderfully and lasting well, through the ice and through the heat. Dutch irises put on their best show ever last year and have not made themselves known much so far. The redbuds that lost all their blooms during the ice are trying again, so maybe there will be some to accompany the ornamental pear blossoms.

It'll be a long time before we can stand to see La Boheme. I don't want to see that prop stove ever again, either. The singing was fine, the Cafe Momus scene was confusingly staged, and at least there was lighting again. Although daytime temps had reached seventy degrees or near that, many in the audience felt compelled to arrive in the fur coats, not a good idea when the ventilation was turned on about three times. Nothing is better guaranteed to elicit fits of sneezing than pelts fresh from storage. The intermissions lasted longer than the acts. What an endurance trial. The audience in general, though, was very enthusiastic about the show. Revenge of the Musketeers (La fille de D'Artagnan) is wonderful! How great it would be on a big screen. We'll always be great fans of Philippe Noiret. Sophie Marceau is new to us, and wonderful also. We also watched two that are repeats for us: The Awful Truth (Cary Grant even better than remembered and Irene Dunne not) and Copacabana, a late Groucho. Groucho never receives the credit deserved for his great dancing and excellent singing.

It'll be a long time before we can stand to see La Boheme. I don't want to see that prop stove ever again, either. The singing was fine, the Cafe Momus scene was confusingly staged, and at least there was lighting again. Although daytime temps had reached seventy degrees or near that, many in the audience felt compelled to arrive in the fur coats, not a good idea when the ventilation was turned on about three times. Nothing is better guaranteed to elicit fits of sneezing than pelts fresh from storage. The intermissions lasted longer than the acts. What an endurance trial. The audience in general, though, was very enthusiastic about the show. Revenge of the Musketeers (La fille de D'Artagnan) is wonderful! How great it would be on a big screen. We'll always be great fans of Philippe Noiret. Sophie Marceau is new to us, and wonderful also. We also watched two that are repeats for us: The Awful Truth (Cary Grant even better than remembered and Irene Dunne not) and Copacabana, a late Groucho. Groucho never receives the credit deserved for his great dancing and excellent singing.

It'll be a long time before we can stand to see La Boheme. I don't want to see that prop stove ever again, either. The singing was fine, the Cafe Momus scene was confusingly staged, and at least there was lighting again. Although daytime temps had reached seventy degrees or near that, many in the audience felt compelled to arrive in the fur coats, not a good idea when the ventilation was turned on about three times. Nothing is better guaranteed to elicit fits of sneezing than pelts fresh from storage. The intermissions lasted longer than the acts. What an endurance trial. The audience in general, though, was very enthusiastic about the show. Revenge of the Musketeers (La fille de D'Artagnan) is wonderful! How great it would be on a big screen. We'll always be great fans of Philippe Noiret. Sophie Marceau is new to us, and wonderful also. We also watched two that are repeats for us: The Awful Truth (Cary Grant even better than remembered and Irene Dunne not) and Copacabana, a late Groucho. Groucho never receives the credit deserved for his great dancing and excellent singing.

Courtesy of Vulcan Video, this is a designated escapist weekend. K. did the selecting. First up were Stealing Harvard, the Elegant Criminal (Lacenaire), and Knockaround Guys. IMDB received opinion has nothing good to say about Stealing Harvard, but it is, in fact, funny, and we loved that Homespital business. Lacenaire was French in the worst way and seemed to be double its two-hour length. It was political and not at all cinematic, but the costume design was sumptuous. K. immediately recognized the lead from Le Placard. Knockaround affords plenty of ops for scenery-chewing and practically everybody involved takes full advantage, but not Vin Diesel, who really does have something going. This is the first we'd seen him outside previews.

Courtesy of Vulcan Video, this is a designated escapist weekend. K. did the selecting. First up were Stealing Harvard, the Elegant Criminal (Lacenaire), and Knockaround Guys. IMDB received opinion has nothing good to say about Stealing Harvard, but it is, in fact, funny, and we loved that Homespital business. Lacenaire was French in the worst way and seemed to be double its two-hour length. It was political and not at all cinematic, but the costume design was sumptuous. K. immediately recognized the lead from Le Placard. Knockaround affords plenty of ops for scenery-chewing and practically everybody involved takes full advantage, but not Vin Diesel, who really does have something going. This is the first we'd seen him outside previews.

Courtesy of Vulcan Video, this is a designated escapist weekend. K. did the selecting. First up were Stealing Harvard, the Elegant Criminal (Lacenaire), and Knockaround Guys. IMDB received opinion has nothing good to say about Stealing Harvard, but it is, in fact, funny, and we loved that Homespital business. Lacenaire was French in the worst way and seemed to be double its two-hour length. It was political and not at all cinematic, but the costume design was sumptuous. K. immediately recognized the lead from Le Placard. Knockaround affords plenty of ops for scenery-chewing and practically everybody involved takes full advantage, but not Vin Diesel, who really does have something going. This is the first we'd seen him outside previews.

So Washington mentions in passing that the U.S. is in some way involved in military action in the Philippines, somewhere in the Sulu islands (isn't there still talk of Sulu pirates?). It's supposedly a matter of assisting or training government troops, and then all this vanishes from the news. Suddenly, I'm remembering all the stuff in My Weekly Reader about fighting the evil Huks and heroic Ramon Magsaysay. Google news search on Jolo Sulu military yields plenty of coverage that's current and from around the world. I've always wondered whether the CIA had anything to do with funding for My Weekly Reader!

So Washington mentions in passing that the U.S. is in some way involved in military action in the Philippines, somewhere in the Sulu islands (isn't there still talk of Sulu pirates?). It's supposedly a matter of assisting or training government troops, and then all this vanishes from the news. Suddenly, I'm remembering all the stuff in My Weekly Reader about fighting the evil Huks and heroic Ramon Magsaysay. Google news search on Jolo Sulu military yields plenty of coverage that's current and from around the world. I've always wondered whether the CIA had anything to do with funding for My Weekly Reader!

So Washington mentions in passing that the U.S. is in some way involved in military action in the Philippines, somewhere in the Sulu islands (isn't there still talk of Sulu pirates?). It's supposedly a matter of assisting or training government troops, and then all this vanishes from the news. Suddenly, I'm remembering all the stuff in My Weekly Reader about fighting the evil Huks and heroic Ramon Magsaysay. Google news search on Jolo Sulu military yields plenty of coverage that's current and from around the world. I've always wondered whether the CIA had anything to do with funding for My Weekly Reader!

Club Desvelado hasn't reported for a while. Remind Me Who I Am, Again (Linda Grant) is in part a look at an English immigrant family and in part developed from a piece that we happened to read in the Guardian. Grant's publishers encouraged her to develop a book from that first piece, which was about shopping with her dementing mother. This is a distressing, but very honest, book. One of the best anecdotes was about a relative always described as a cobbler, but who read the obituaries and went to the homes of the deceased, asking for their shoes, which he polished up and sold. Chapters from Childhood (Juliet M. Soskice), originally published in the 'twenties, is slight but charming, an echo of the Pre-Raphaelite circle. The Girls (Helen Yglesias) is a novella, a good one, and keenly observed, as "they" say. If the library bothers to keep the books of Yglesias on the shelf, I'd consider reading more of her work. Let Evening Come: Reflections on Aging (Mary C. Morrison) is physically a beautifully produced book as object, but it's a sort of "chicken soup for the elderly Quaker soul." Oddly enough, when this book was entered into the Barnes & Noble search-engine, the bot suggested that anyone who liked it would also probably like a little item called Chicken Soup for the Golden Soul: Heartwarming Stories for People 60 and Over. Perhaps this is the book that, presented to CCH, elicited such scorn from her. These are off to the library.

Club Desvelado hasn't reported for a while. Remind Me Who I Am, Again (Linda Grant) is in part a look at an English immigrant family and in part developed from a piece that we happened to read in the Guardian. Grant's publishers encouraged her to develop a book from that first piece, which was about shopping with her dementing mother. This is a distressing, but very honest, book. One of the best anecdotes was about a relative always described as a cobbler, but who read the obituaries and went to the homes of the deceased, asking for their shoes, which he polished up and sold. Chapters from Childhood (Juliet M. Soskice), originally published in the 'twenties, is slight but charming, an echo of the Pre-Raphaelite circle. The Girls (Helen Yglesias) is a novella, a good one, and keenly observed, as "they" say. If the library bothers to keep the books of Yglesias on the shelf, I'd consider reading more of her work. Let Evening Come: Reflections on Aging (Mary C. Morrison) is physically a beautifully produced book as object, but it's a sort of "chicken soup for the elderly Quaker soul." Oddly enough, when this book was entered into the Barnes & Noble search-engine, the bot suggested that anyone who liked it would also probably like a little item called Chicken Soup for the Golden Soul: Heartwarming Stories for People 60 and Over. Perhaps this is the book that, presented to CCH, elicited such scorn from her. These are off to the library.

Club Desvelado hasn't reported for a while. Remind Me Who I Am, Again (Linda Grant) is in part a look at an English immigrant family and in part developed from a piece that we happened to read in the Guardian. Grant's publishers encouraged her to develop a book from that first piece, which was about shopping with her dementing mother. This is a distressing, but very honest, book. One of the best anecdotes was about a relative always described as a cobbler, but who read the obituaries and went to the homes of the deceased, asking for their shoes, which he polished up and sold. Chapters from Childhood (Juliet M. Soskice), originally published in the 'twenties, is slight but charming, an echo of the Pre-Raphaelite circle. The Girls (Helen Yglesias) is a novella, a good one, and keenly observed, as "they" say. If the library bothers to keep the books of Yglesias on the shelf, I'd consider reading more of her work. Let Evening Come: Reflections on Aging (Mary C. Morrison) is physically a beautifully produced book as object, but it's a sort of "chicken soup for the elderly Quaker soul." Oddly enough, when this book was entered into the Barnes & Noble search-engine, the bot suggested that anyone who liked it would also probably like a little item called Chicken Soup for the Golden Soul: Heartwarming Stories for People 60 and Over. Perhaps this is the book that, presented to CCH, elicited such scorn from her. These are off to the library.

Recently I saw an image of a Zurbaran painting of Saint Casilda. This name Casilda is familiar only from the novela Amigas y rivales, but it turns out that this saint is a legendary figure of Moorish Toledo and is associated with good luck. A Google for Casilda found a Casilda paper doll, based on a real three-dimensional doll, German and from the first decade of the twentieth century. There's also a character named Casilda, daughter of the Duke of Plaza-Toros, in Gilbert and Sullivan's Gondoliers. I've never seen a real Zurbaran and the first time I ever heard of this painter was when I bought a post card of his Santa Lucia, which for some reason has usually been on my desk ever since. A close look reveals the eyeballs that she is carrying. Maybe it's because I've had such trouble with vision that I'm interested in Saint Lucy.

Recently I saw an image of a Zurbaran painting of Saint Casilda. This name Casilda is familiar only from the novela Amigas y rivales, but it turns out that this saint is a legendary figure of Moorish Toledo and is associated with good luck. A Google for Casilda found a Casilda paper doll, based on a real three-dimensional doll, German and from the first decade of the twentieth century. There's also a character named Casilda, daughter of the Duke of Plaza-Toros, in Gilbert and Sullivan's Gondoliers. I've never seen a real Zurbaran and the first time I ever heard of this painter was when I bought a post card of his Santa Lucia, which for some reason has usually been on my desk ever since. A close look reveals the eyeballs that she is carrying. Maybe it's because I've had such trouble with vision that I'm interested in Saint Lucy.

Recently I saw an image of a Zurbaran painting of Saint Casilda. This name Casilda is familiar only from the novela Amigas y rivales, but it turns out that this saint is a legendary figure of Moorish Toledo and is associated with good luck. A Google for Casilda found a Casilda paper doll, based on a real three-dimensional doll, German and from the first decade of the twentieth century. There's also a character named Casilda, daughter of the Duke of Plaza-Toros, in Gilbert and Sullivan's Gondoliers. I've never seen a real Zurbaran and the first time I ever heard of this painter was when I bought a post card of his Santa Lucia, which for some reason has usually been on my desk ever since. A close look reveals the eyeballs that she is carrying. Maybe it's because I've had such trouble with vision that I'm interested in Saint Lucy.

There's a cover teaser on this month's Vanity Fair (sorry, Conde Nast doesn't give out the info free!) that made it jump from the newstand, and it wasn't Ben Affleck's bovine face on the cover. It was the Breeder's Cup betting fraud. Too bad the mastermind's programming skills didn't extend to cutting everything short if the winner came in at unbelievable odds; too bad, count 'em, six identical winning bets went into the system. This is the fullest all-in-one report on the scam that we've found. The reporter was very good at getting the NYRA OTB people in Albany to talk, although not for attribution in many cases, evidently eager to say bad things about Catskill OTB. These three guys sure did their Drexel training proud. And the mastermind, the Autotote guy, was the first to roll over and so probably will get the best deal. Maybe they should have majored in hospitality studies (once "hotel school").

There's a cover teaser on this month's Vanity Fair (sorry, Conde Nast doesn't give out the info free!) that made it jump from the newstand, and it wasn't Ben Affleck's bovine face on the cover. It was the Breeder's Cup betting fraud. Too bad the mastermind's programming skills didn't extend to cutting everything short if the winner came in at unbelievable odds; too bad, count 'em, six identical winning bets went into the system. This is the fullest all-in-one report on the scam that we've found. The reporter was very good at getting the NYRA OTB people in Albany to talk, although not for attribution in many cases, evidently eager to say bad things about Catskill OTB. These three guys sure did their Drexel training proud. And the mastermind, the Autotote guy, was the first to roll over and so probably will get the best deal. Maybe they should have majored in hospitality studies (once "hotel school").

There's a cover teaser on this month's Vanity Fair (sorry, Conde Nast doesn't give out the info free!) that made it jump from the newstand, and it wasn't Ben Affleck's bovine face on the cover. It was the Breeder's Cup betting fraud. Too bad the mastermind's programming skills didn't extend to cutting everything short if the winner came in at unbelievable odds; too bad, count 'em, six identical winning bets went into the system. This is the fullest all-in-one report on the scam that we've found. The reporter was very good at getting the NYRA OTB people in Albany to talk, although not for attribution in many cases, evidently eager to say bad things about Catskill OTB. These three guys sure did their Drexel training proud. And the mastermind, the Autotote guy, was the first to roll over and so probably will get the best deal. Maybe they should have majored in hospitality studies (once "hotel school").

Club Desvelado does not invite Morpheus via books alone; sometimes, it's by magazines. The Economist is usually suitably soporific. The Newsweek piece on GWB and religion is unintentionally comic, when it isn't a bit frightening. Here's a glance at a comic aspect. Talking about GWB's Bible buddy Don Evans, the piece says that he was a member of the Texas Cowboys, the Austin equivalent of Skull and Bones, demonstrating that the author knows nothing about Austin and nothing about New Haven. There are plenty of conspiracy theories. What would be the New Haven equivalent of Austin's Silver Spurs? Just wondering.

Club Desvelado does not invite Morpheus via books alone; sometimes, it's by magazines. The Economist is usually suitably soporific. The Newsweek piece on GWB and religion is unintentionally comic, when it isn't a bit frightening. Here's a glance at a comic aspect. Talking about GWB's Bible buddy Don Evans, the piece says that he was a member of the Texas Cowboys, the Austin equivalent of Skull and Bones, demonstrating that the author knows nothing about Austin and nothing about New Haven. There are plenty of conspiracy theories. What would be the New Haven equivalent of Austin's Silver Spurs? Just wondering.

Club Desvelado does not invite Morpheus via books alone; sometimes, it's by magazines. The Economist is usually suitably soporific. The Newsweek piece on GWB and religion is unintentionally comic, when it isn't a bit frightening. Here's a glance at a comic aspect. Talking about GWB's Bible buddy Don Evans, the piece says that he was a member of the Texas Cowboys, the Austin equivalent of Skull and Bones, demonstrating that the author knows nothing about Austin and nothing about New Haven. There are plenty of conspiracy theories. What would be the New Haven equivalent of Austin's Silver Spurs? Just wondering.

Last year was a really bad year. Last March was one of the two worst months of that year. There was a need to hunt up some paperwork from a year ago that brought a lot of bad stuff to mind. Bad, bad stuff, and leaving plenty of hard-copy souvenirs. This March has to be better, right?

Last year was a really bad year. Last March was one of the two worst months of that year. There was a need to hunt up some paperwork from a year ago that brought a lot of bad stuff to mind. Bad, bad stuff, and leaving plenty of hard-copy souvenirs. This March has to be better, right?

Last year was a really bad year. Last March was one of the two worst months of that year. There was a need to hunt up some paperwork from a year ago that brought a lot of bad stuff to mind. Bad, bad stuff, and leaving plenty of hard-copy souvenirs. This March has to be better, right?

Club Desvelado hasn't checked in lately. A Way of Life, Like Any Other (Darcy O'Brien) was a bit precious, but funny: child of faded movie actors finds humor in dysfunctional adults and the decade of the 'fifties, not to be too anachronistic about it. Face to Face: A Reader in the World (Lynne Sharon Schwartz) shows its origins as an unrelated collection of previously published personal essays, some much better than others.

The turnout for the Texas Independence Day parade consisted of all the parade regulars (everybody except wealthy Anglo denizens of the "better" suburbs). After following the bands the length of Congress Avenue one at a time, especially loving the Guard band from Camp Mabry (motto: all Sousa all the time), we arrived too early at the Taj Palace, so headed up to the Gateway Center, the only location showing the movie. The choice of food was between Marie Callender's and Sushi Sake. The culinarily boldest at the table enjoyed Seattle oysters and sawagani. Yes, it's true; these tiny jewel-like crabs were consumed whole at the very table at which I was seated. The Guru was the perfect movie for a chilly day when laughs were needed, many of which came at the expense of the Macarena (don't ask).