This Isn't Texas

In 2015, I met an incredible man-online.   He was everything I wanted in a partner, except for the fact that I lived in Texas and he in Florida.  He flew out, and then I did, and so on, until I decided to move to Florida in December 2016. 

I packed up my worldly goods and loaded them in a rental truck, and M flew in to drive me to my new home in the Sunshine State.  We were delayed by his lost luggage (thanks, United), but got underway on a Sunday evening.  After driving for a few hours (me leading in my car; him following in the rental truck), we stopped for the night, still in Texas.  

The next morning, we left early and made the obligatory stops at Bucee’s and Whataburger and crossed the Sabine River before noon.  Firmly ensconced in Louisiana, it was time for a gas stop.  At this point I was still leading, and I took an exit for a gas station.  Accustomed to the Lone Star State, I exited and went through the stop sign, intending to turn into the gas station, but there was no entrance and I was forced back onto the interstate.  A few miles later, I successfully entered a gas station and M began to tease me about missing the previous stop.  I told him there was no way to get to the gas station from the access road.  He informed me, “this isn’t Texas,” to which I replied with a quizzical head tilt.  He continued, “You can’t turn into the gas station from the on-ramp.  There aren’t access roads here, although they are brilliant urban planning.”  And I’ll be damned, he’s right about that.  Apparently access roads are exclusive to Texas, because I haven’t seen any since.

M continues to remind me that I’m not in Texas anymore, like when I want to burn the leaf pile in the front yard or shoot the pesky armadillo who is uprooting my lilies.  On my first day at my new school, I was surprised to learn that the kids in Florida don’t recite the pledge to the Texas flag.  The other day, I asked him why the closest convenience store doesn’t have Blue Bell ice cream, and his (slightly snarky) reply was, “This isn’t Texas.”

Crazy People

Sometimes I wonder if there is something inherently wrong with me because I seem to witness a lot of apeshit behavior in public.  Maybe I'm on the lookout for weirdness so I can have more material, and maybe there are really just a lot of unusual people in the world.  For instance, the other day at church, a man very audibly trimmed his fingernails during the sermon!  I find that really strange.

Another case in point is a woman at the Colorado Springs airport this summer.  I had been in CO to visit my dear friend and her two gorgeous boys, aged 4 and 2.  More on them later.  At the end of my visit, they dropped me off at the airport and I proceeded to the security screening.  I'm not a expert traveler, but I've been through enough airports to know the drill.  I'm getting scanned and waiting for my carry on to make it down the conveyer belt, when I hear the beginnings of a ruckus in the line across from me.

A woman in her mid to late 40s is bawling.  She has just been selected for a random pat down and she is not happy.  Now, I don't particularly care for this either, but if you want to get on the plane, you have to get with the damn program.  The very polite female TSA person is giving her the play by play about everything before she does it.  She says, "I'm going to pat the outsides of your legs" and proceeds to do so.  The woman lets out a shriek that would make a banshee proud at the touch of a hand to the outside of her knee.  Her knee!  I suppose, in this woman's defense, that she may have suffered some trauma in the past to make her behave this way, but my suspicion is that she is just nucking futs!  I realize that sounds a bit judgmental, but really, her knee?  My hunch is confirmed, however, very quickly.  In between sobs, she blubbers, "My poor daughter is over there waiting.  ALL BY HERSELF!  I need to go to her!"  I turn around, expecting to see a toddler, but no, I see a college aged woman turning red and shaking her head.  I, of course, silently applaud myself for my incredible insight and head to my gate to wait for my flight.

Sons of Anarchy

Besides Hawaii, another completely badass thing that has happened in my life is the television program Sons of Anarchy.  Best.Show.Ever.  The cast is amazing and the writing is perfect.  It's a show that keeps you guessing and has you loving and hating the characters.  Katey Sagal is a Machiavellian dream as Gemma, the matriarch of this motorcycle club.  She is the Wendy to a lot of adorably fucked up Lost Boys and it is a pleasure to watch.  Over the summer, I got to attend a motorcycle event at Cowboy Harley Davidson in Austin.  While there, we also got to meet two cast members, Mark Boone, Jr and Tommy Flanagan.  I would like to think I was cool, but I was as giddy as I could be.

The show is greatness, but the work the cast and crew do to support our veterans wins my heart all over again.  Check out the show then follow cast members on Facebook or Twitter to see all the great things they are involved with!

Here are my pics with Tommy, aka Chibs and Mark, aka Bobby.  They were absolutely adorable!

Happy Father's Day

To the dads in my friends and family-Happy Father's Day. You have a very tough job. I called Tubby today to give him my wishes, and we had a pretty good conversation. Despite everything I've ever said about him, I love Tubby fiercely and wouldn't trade him for any other dad. It may have been tough at times, but I'm thankful that I wasn't brought up in some candy ass operation and my brother and I are both productive members of society. We don't think the world owes us anything so we have realistic expectations. Thank you, Tubby for making us strong and loving us enough not to be a friend but a parent.

Good Night, Sweet Prince

Normally with my blogs, I try to be funny, but tonight I'm taking a serious tone because one of my former students is being buried tomorrow. He, at age 18, was killed in a car accident early Friday morning while on his way back from Austin with a group of friends. His death and the deaths of other students of mine are the reason for this blog.

Youth does not equal invincibility, though you may think otherwise. Please, please, please think before you act. If your mother or English teacher would not think something is a good idea, don't do it. The people who love you (including those teachers) want you in this world for a long time.

Thank you Byron, Joe, Joseph, Siobahn, and Jamie for allowing me to get to know you.

Rest in peace.

Tubby and the Y2K

The latter part of 2009 marked the 10th anniversary of Tubby's Y2K paranoia/preparations. I don't think anyone on the planet, at least in his income bracket, was more ready for this disaster than Tubs. He started gathering items early in 1999, and by the time December rolled around, he had the following: 50 pounds of pinto beans, 50 pounds of rice, several five gallon jars of jalapeno peppers, numerous cans of propane, a pantry full of canned goods, 100 two liter bottles of Pepsi, a generator and six 55 gallon barrels filled with either water or gas. Clearly, he was prepared for the worst.

It was during this time that I began to get phone calls like this:
Tubby: Hey, Booger, do you have enough tampons to get through this Y2K thing? This is your dad.
me: Since you are the only one who calls me Booger, I kind of guessed who you were.
Tubby: Fine, smartass! If you need the tampons, I'm going to the commissary. Make me a list.

Calls like this continued, and unsolicited gifts began to accumulate. He gave me an oil lantern, the aforementioned tampons, a propane camping stove, and, the gift that keeps on giving, 12 gauge shells.

Tubby just knew that at the stroke of midnight, the power was going to go out and he would be under siege by looters wanting his ten year old television and other appliances. I pointed out that if the power was out, the looters might not want things that had to be plugged in, but apparently I was just not being a team player.

The best call came on December 31, 1999.
Tubs: I wish you and your brother would come over here tonight.
me: Daddy, that's so sweet. You want us all to be together if this is really the end.
Tubs: No, I just want a two more shooters to protect my stuff.
me: Oh.

My brother and I declined that amazing offer and instead watched the new year ring in peacefully from the comfort of my living room. We laughed till we hurt at the thought of Tubby being pissed off about not getting to protect his crap from the hordes of looters. To this day, I think he is still mad that he was wrong about the whole thing. He had to get rid of his stash, part of which was useful. Hubs and I used the propane to power our grill for quite a while, but I still have an unopened 5 gallon jar of jalapenos in my garage.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday for several reasons, not the least of which are that it's totally ok to be a glutton and the Cowboys are on. On a deeper level, though, I appreciate the reminder to count my blessings. I think I'm pretty good about gratitude, but having a day devoted to it is wonderful. So, in no particular order (because if you want that, read the blog of someone who is concrete sequential rather than abstract random), here are some things for which I am eternally and tremendously thankful:

1. Caller ID: I love not having to answer telemarketing calls.
3. Sunscreen: I love the sun and swimming, but with skin that is more pale than the bottoms of most people's feet, high SPF is a must!
4. Amazing friends and family: Knowing such a diverse group of people is a privilege and I cannot begin to describe the positive impact they have on my life. From shoe shopping to stock making to football watching to coffee shop venting, they make every day better.
5. Great job: My job can be stressful, but the kids make me laugh every day and it is very satisfying to know that I've played even a small part in their eventual successes. Also, they provide me with endless material for blogs. I've also been blessed with fabulous co-workers who don't seem to mind my occasional irreverence.
7. Tubby: Sure he's difficult on a good day and full of gloom and doom, but he's my dad and I love him, even when he starts conversations with "Now, what's wrong with you is. . .".
8. My most precious godson: He's the first person I loved before I met. How could I not love someone who was created by two of the finest people on the planet? He's the most beautiful, brilliant 11 1/2 month old ever, and he tells me that he will be attending college in Texas.
9. A car that allows me to play my Ipod through the factory installed sound system.
10. Junior League: No where else would I have been able to meet such a diverse, dynamic group of women! This organization makes me so proud and also humbled.