Tag: Saint Helen

Let’s Talk About Buc-ee’s

  
Studly Doright, my mother-in-law, Saint Helen, and I made an important discovery on our recent trip home from the Texas Hill Country. No, it wasn’t an actual chupacabra, or a new, hotter than hell type of chili pepper. This was something way cooler and far more easy to digest–the mega convenience store called Buc-ee’s.

I’m not even sure mega comes close to describing just how big these stores are. 

  
 

Above is pictured a small part of a Buc-ee’s food court. 
 Coke, anyone?

  
Buc-ee is a pretty big deal. Even the Travelocity Gnome paid a visit.

Need a souvenir of your Buc-ee’s trip? You’re covered!

  
   

I didn’t find a photo of the bathrooms at Buc-ee’s, but trust me on this, it was amazing! I felt like I’d entered the Buckingham Palace of restrooms. It was huge and every stall had its own hand sanitizer dispenser. 

Oh, and as we left we heard the friendly, “Y’all come back now!”

God bless Texas. And Buc-ee’s!

What in Tarnation?

Cursing, even mildly, was severely frowned on by everyone I knew in my childhood days. A “golly!” or “gosh!” uttered by me or one of my friends would result in a tongue lashing and the threat of a good old fashioned soaping of the offending mouth. Although no one, including me had ever actually seen someone have their mouths washed out with soap the thought was daunting enough to curtail, if not completely halt, the use of four letter words.

Of course once we became rebellious teenagers the taboos against cursing lured us into dangerous territory. First came “darn” then “hell” then “damnit” before we became masters of the combo curse, “Damn it all to hell!”

I might have been considered a cursing prodigy, so quickly did I incorporate proper technique into my daily language. And I was an astute cursing judge, able to discern instantly the level of experience another had with the fine art of four letter words. We had a band director at good old Floydada high school who threw out phrases like, “I don’t give a hell!” Novice! 

There are folks I know who are non-cursers. My mother-in-law, Saint Helen, falls into this category; although, on occasion I have heard her say she didn’t give a “continental dam” about something. It was shocking, to say the least.

Nowadays I hardly curse at all, apart from the occasional outburst, usually reserved for indicating someone’s total lack of common sense. Now that everyone’s doing it, it just doesn’t seem so rebellious. I feel like bringing back some good old fashioned curse words like “tarnation” and “dagnabbit” or “dadgum.”

So, what in tarnation are we gonna do about that dadgum congress, dagnabbit!?” Oh, that seems so insufficient.

Peace, people!