Tag: Texas

Fasten Your Seatbelts

Lately it seems as though all I’ve done is travel with brief periods of rest at Doright Manor between trips. On Friday I flew on Southwest Airlines from Panama City Beach, FL, with a brief layover in Houston before reaching my final destination in Austin. I’m meeting up with two of Studly’s sisters and my niece for a girls’ weekend. It promises to be way more fun than I’m accustomed to. But first I had to survive my flight!

The first leg of the flight was routine. The pilot found a smooth route and we cruised without incident to Houston Hobby Airport. The flight, though, from Houston to Austin was a bit of a nail biter.

We hit turbulence upon takeoff and it was constant the entire flight. Thank goodness the ordeal only lasted 32 minutes. But the flight attendants were never instructed to take a seat and they served passengers as the plane bucked like an untamed bronco until the very last seconds. I was reading and in the back of my mind wondering when the attendants would announce that our tray tables and seatbelts needed to be secured and our seats in the upright and locked position.

The message to secure the cabin never came, though, and the plane landed jarringly, resulting in cups and cans from the back of the plane becoming airborne. I’ve flown thousands of miles and never experienced anything quite like this landing. The flight attendants were visibly shaken, but there was never a word from the cockpit. Weirdest landing I’ve ever encountered.

But I’m here! Our niece, CB picked me up at the airport and then we rendezvoused with her mom (Studly’s eldest sibling) and her aunt (Studly’s middle sister) at CB’s home in Buda, Texas outside of Austin.

So far I’ve had terrific Mexican food at Garcia’s, a family owned restaurant in Buda, played a fun strategy game called Ticket to Ride, at which I thoroughly sucked, enjoyed some good red wine, and laughed so hard I cried. CB’s family joined us for the fun and games last night adding to the hilarity.

I never could remember which color my train was!

{In Ticket to Ride (above) I never could remember which color our train was! I thought we were blue, but midway through my sister-in-law informed me we were red. Needless to say, we didn’t win.}

We’re staying in a lovely “vacation rental by owner” place, with plenty of room to spread out, and today (Saturday) we’re going on a tour of weird homes in Austin. I have no idea what we’ll see, but it should be a hoot. Austin is famous for its weirdness.

On Sunday we’re seeing a production of The Book of Mormon, and I’ll fly home on Monday. Unless, that is, I get a look at my pilot and recognize him from the flight on Friday. I might be looking for the nearest Greyhound bus station if that’s the case.

Peace, people.

Huey Lewis, I’d be a Fool for You (Again)

I once spent about half a minute conversing with myself in a mirror. Yes, I was rather inebriated, and yes, it was quite late, but I suppose neither of those are good excuses.

Studly Doright had taken me to see Huey Lewis and the News in concert at the Amarillo Civic Center. At that time in our lives we weren’t able to go out often. We had two small children and almost no disposable income, but we’d scrimped and saved enough for the concert because Studly knew that I needed to see Huey in person.

After the concert we met friends at a club in Amarillo where I had a drink, maybe two. In those days, I was literally and figuratively a lightweight when it came to drinking and it didn’t take much to get my skinny self drunk.

The DJ, ensconced in his booth high above the crowd, wasn’t playing anything I liked, so I wrote a request for a Huey Lewis song on a slip of paper and then navigated around and through an energetic knot of dancers on the floor to offer up my request. But I couldn’t figure out how to deliver my piece of paper to the guy in the booth.

Looking around I spied a friendly, albeit concerned looking woman and asked, “Where do I put this?” indicating my request.

Oddly enough, she asked me something at the same time, and when I bent forward to try to hear her better I bonked my forehead on a mirror and only then realized I’d been talking to myself. I compounded my error by apologizing.

“Ha! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were me!”

“No problem,” I replied, giggling.

Of course a couple dancing by caught the gist of this whole exchange and gave me a wide berth as they navigated around the dance floor. I can’t say that I blame them. I finally located the proper request slot and enjoyed the rest of my evening, basking in the memory of Huey.

Huey Lewis is still one of my favorites, and I’ve gotten to see him and the News in concert a few times through the years. Huey has recently contracted an illness that’s caused partial deafness and resulted in a cancellation of his tour for the foreseeable future. For a musician this has to be devastating. I’d go talk to myself in a mirror again in front of a crowded dance floor if I thought it would help. Maybe he just needs a new drug.

https://youtu.be/N6uEMOeDZsA

Peace, people.

Oddities and Noteworthy Sights Along the Way

Now that I’ve returned safely home to Doright Manor after my trip to San Marcos, Texas, I’ve had a bit of time to look back at some of the cool stuff I found along the way.

For instance this drive through daiquiri store in Louisiana, just across Texas border. Isn’t it illegal to drink and drive?

And how about the Wooly Mamoth (sic) head mounted on the wall of a barbecue place in Katy, Texas? I’m fairly sure the disclaimer “REPLICA” wasn’t necessary, but it made my daughter and me giggle. The misspelling of mammoth was a bonus.

Notice the sign on I-10 just west of Mobile, AL. I almost cried because I thought it read “ROAD WORK NEXT 568 MILES.” Thank goodness the decimal point between the 5 and the 6 was just difficult to see.

Technically, the Alamo isn’t an oddity, but it’s worth a mention.

On my way to San Antonio, I spent the night in a Holiday Inn in Gulfport, Mississippi. I’d stayed there before and had fond memories of the place. The staff is friendly and the rooms comfy. This time I snapped a photo of the nifty artwork in my room. I love retro pieces and thought this was a nice change from the artwork one usually finds in hotels.

A red door on a shop in Wimberley, Texas. I like red doors. Once I heard that if you want your house to sell quickly, paint your door red. Works for me.

San Antonio has some nifty stuff to see besides the Alamo.

I feel so fortunate to be able to travel and share my adventures with you all. Hopefully I still have a couple of decades ahead to enjoy adventures like this one. It’ll break my heart when I can no longer take my car on long trips.

Peace, people.

Old and Lost River

Driving on I-10 between Baytown and Houston one crosses a bridge over the “Old and Lost River.” Each time I’ve made the journey the river’s name has caused me to smile and then to wonder how it came to be called “Old and Lost,” but I could never remember to google it. Today, though, when I crossed the river I left myself a reminder note on my iPhone via Siri.

Here’s what I found on Google:

“American composer Tobias Picker (b. 1954) wrote Old and Lost Rivers in 1986. The brief, colorful orchestral tone poem was commissioned by the Houston Symphony to commemorate the sesquicentennial of Texas. Picker describes the inspiration for the piece:”

Driving east from Houston along Interstate 10, you will come to a high bridge which crosses many winding bayous. These bayous were left behind by the great wanderings, over time, of the Trinity River across the land. When it rains, the bayous fill with water and begin to flow. At other times — when it is dry — they evaporate and turn green in the sun. The two main bayous are called ‘Old River’ and ‘Lost River’. Where they converge, a sign on the side of the highway reads: ‘OId and Lost Rivers.’

And now I know the story. The google piece also included the audio of the composition written by Mr. Picker and performed by the Houston Symphony Orchestra. I think it’s lovely.

https://youtu.be/S6phXZddj9A

Peace, people.

Final Final Four Post

And then there were two: Michigan and Villanova. At the end of the day, only one team would prevail as the NCAA men’s basketball champions.

Ashley and I had tickets to the final game. If the Jayhawks had still been in the tourney, we’d have gladly driven back into crazy San Antonio traffic, paid a fortune for parking, and a fair amount to Uber to and from the event. Alas, the Jayhawks were eliminated on Saturday, so we elected to watch the game from our hotel room in San Marcos. Call us wusses. We can handle it.

We weighed a great many factors in making our decision besides those listed above. I still struggle to speak and even though I feel okay, it’s wearing me out. Ashley has a flight to catch and a long drive to her home in Illinois once she lands in Des Moines, Iowa. I have a thirteen hour drive ahead of me. Still, we both agonized about not seeing the biggest game of the year in men’s college basketball.

So we spent the evening watching the game in our pajamas while we tried to cram all of our purchases into our suitcases along with the stuff we brought with us. I really don’t care who wins. Right now Villanova has a hefty lead with 11 minutes to go.

Coolest things this weekend:

Just being there! We’ve watched the pageantry of this tournament for years on our respective televisions, but there is nothing like seeing it all in person.

Ashley ran into a Chicago baseball icon, Ronnie Woo Woo in the Alamodome and posed for a photo with him.

We were live on a CBS television broadcast when we stumbled into view behind the broadcasters’ table. We looked like happy dorks. I suppose that’s what we are.

We enjoyed exploring San Antonio, strolling along the River Walk, and mingling with fans from all over the country.

On Sunday night we enjoyed live music and the enthusiasm of young Michigan fans in a San Antonio pub. Oh, and it warmed my heart that these young people knew the lyrics to all of my generation’s favorite songs!

On Monday, Ashley and I explored the little town of Wimberley. We did a bit of shopping and had a great lunch at Ino’Z on the banks of Cypress Creek.

I’ve most likely mixed up my verb tenses in this post once again, but we’ve had, and are still having, a wonderful time.

Tuesday is all about travel. I’ll deliver Ashley to the airport in Houston, about three hours from San Marcos, before heading east on I-10. My goal is to get as far down the road as possible before stopping for the night.

Send us some good travel vibes if you are so inclined. And as always, peace, people.

A Moment in the Spotlight

Ashley and I made our national television debut yesterday. For one brief moment we were caught on camera during a live CBS sports broadcast in downtown San Antonio. Ashley’s middle child took a screenshot of our appearance and texted it to her mom. I’d love to say we were models of beauty and grace,

but we were closer to being doubles for dumb and dumber. What can I say? Every time I see the photo I collapse in a fit of giggles. My hair. Ashley’s expression. Priceless.

I still don’t have my voice, so I text Ashley anything important I need to say. As I write this we are sitting outside listening to live music on Saturday evening at a venue filled with Michigan fans.

What fun we are having! Thanks to the Stewarts for putting their tickets up for sale, and thanks to my Studly Doright for buying them even though he couldn’t attend. Thanks to Ashley for saying “yes” to joining me, and thanks to Ashley’s husband for agreeing to be the sole Easter Bunny at their home this year so Ashley could join me, as well.

We’re still bummed that the Jayhawks lost so badly to Villanova, but there’s always next year. Might need to start making plans for Minneapolis.

Peace, people!

Impulsivity Bites

I tend to be impulsive. Scratch that. I tend to say impulsive things:

“Ooh! I NEED that (insert item here)!”

“Hey! Let’s buy that (insert item here)!”

“Honey! Quick! Tell them we want those (insert items here)!”

And I’m either lucky or unlucky enough to have a husband who caters to my impulsivity.

Last night as we watched the Kansas Jayhawks advance to the Final Four in NCAA basketball with an overtime win over Duke, Studly Doright received a text from a friend in Indiana, a Purdue fan who jokingly said something to the effect of, “Hey, do you want our tickets to the final four? We won’t be using them.”

Studly read the text to me and impulsively I said, “Yes!” I never dreamed he’d follow through. Well, maybe I did, but part of me still thought we were kidding around.

Now I find myself with two tickets to the Final Four in San Antonio, Texas. David’s back isn’t going to let him go, and our son, a university of Kansas grad who lives in Texas most likely won’t be able to join me due to previously scheduled engagements.

I tossed and turned all night, cursing my impulsive nature. My cats gave up trying to sleep with me, (I’m in the guest room these nights in an attempt to give Studly an opportunity to rest, poor guy) and they abandoned me for calmer locations.

But part of me is so excited. Attending any Final Four tourney is one of my bucket list items, and with the Jayhawks still in the tourney it’s too sweet to even contemplate. I just wish my Studly was going with me.

Peace, people.

Minimalist Challenge, Puttin’ on the Ritz Day 26

Last night Studly Doright and I were watching the University of Kansas basketball team play Texas Tech for the Big 12 championship on television. It was a great, too-close-for-comfort game, and Studly worked up a powerful hunger while cheering for the Jayhawks.

Late in the second half he asked, “Do we have any snacks? I feel like I need to eat something if we’re going to win this game.”

Rather than throwing something at him or telling him to get his own damned snack I hoisted myself out of my chair and went in search of some munchies. The first likely snacks I came upon were several boxes of Ritz cheese crackers and a few more of the peanut butter version.

We don’t normally keep these on hand, but I recalled buying them in preparation for hurricane survival last summer. There’s nothing like a Ritz cracker to see you through the dark times, am I right?

Before asking Studly if the crackers would fill the bill for his snack I thought to check the expiration dates. November 17, 2017, was stamped on each box. So while they didn’t get to fulfill their destiny as snacks, the crackers were pressed into service for today’s minimalist challenge.

Twenty-three packages of Ritz crackers plus three of the boxes in which they were stored makes a total of 26 items for February 26.

I found Studly another snack, and the resulting energy revived him enough to power the Jayhawks through to a two-point victory over the Red Raiders and KU’s 14th straight conference championship. I doubt they’ll publicly thank us, though.

Swing into Spring

In my junior year of school at Floydada High, I took Distributive Education (DECA) classes. Even though I planned on attending college, I needed to earn some money, and these courses allowed me to work for a couple of hours each afternoon. In retrospect I wish I’d gone the purely academic route, but I didn’t have a great deal of career guidance coming my way. In the end it all worked out okay, I suppose.

DECA was interesting, though. We learned a variety of things about working in retail businesses, including how to display goods and market them to the consumer. Our teacher, Mr. S, was rather limited in his understanding of marketing strategies, but that didn’t keep him from trying. I remember one lesson in which we were to come up with an advertising slogan to promote a product.

The only slogan Mr. S could come up with as an example was “Swing into Spring!” Given that we lived in the Texas panhandle this sounded a great deal more like “Swang into Sprang,” and every time he said it I’d dissolve in a fit of giggles.

Mr. S was not amused. In fact, he threatened to send me to the office if I couldn’t stop laughing. Of course that made it worse, and I ended up trying to explain to the principal that I wasn’t being disrespectful to Mr. S. Apparently the principal wasn’t amused either, but rather than calling my parents to report my transgression he allowed me to stay in his office until it was time for me to report to my DECA related job, the better to compose myself before I found myself in the presence of Mr. S again. As punishments went, it was pretty sweet.

Ironically, just a few short days after my trip to the principal’s office I received a note to call my mom during DECA class. We didn’t have cell phones, kiddies. This was back in the dark ages. The only phone available to students was in the main office.

All the way there I imagined I could hear the other shoe dropping. Somehow, I figured Mom had learned of my previous transgression and was going to read me the riot act followed by a few weeks of grounding. I’d had a feeling I’d gotten off too lightly from the start.

Instead Mom had called to tell me that my dad had been offered a job in another town and that we’d be moving before school’s end. I was supposed to begin wrapping things up. Man, how I wished she’d been calling to ground me instead.

I returned to class sobbing. My friends gathered ’round to console me, but I could tell Mr. S was feeling pretty smug–he figured I’d gotten further punishment, as well. He looked a little less smug as my story unfolded, but was probably relieved that I’d be out of his hair.

The joke was on him, though. In the end my folks arranged for me to live with my maternal grandparents to finish out the school year in Floydada. I still wasn’t happy about leaving my friends and the only schools I’d ever attended in my last year, but it was a workable compromise. Plus, I met Studly Doright in the new town, so that was a positive.

And the next time I got the giggles over “Swang into Sprang” again, Mr. S let it go. I guess he figured I’d had punishment enough.

Barely Bearing Up

I used to be a hardier person. At least that’s the story I tell myself. It’s become more difficult to believe, though, as I find myself whining about the less than balmy weather we’ve had in Tallahassee these past couple of weeks. Some days we barely climbed above 40°!

When Studly Doright, and I, along with our two kids, lived in North Dakota we went entire months without seeing temperatures above 30°F. I drove daily on icy roads, supervised playground duty in sub-zero weather with three feet of snow on the ground, and went about my business even with blustery winds gusting at fifty miles per hour. And those were the more temperate winter days! Somehow, we adapted.

Neither of us were accustomed to long term cold, having grown up in the panhandle of Texas. We knew brief periods of winter that often were replaced by spring-like weather, within a space of six hours. I can remember mornings that school was cancelled due to snow that found us playing outside sans coats by 3 pm.

I’m rambling, I know. It’s this darned cold weather to blame. I’m barely bearing up under these conditions. My feet have forgotten how to wear flip flops and will require remedial instruction once the temps begin to rise once more. That’ll most likely be next week. And, as God is my witness, we will rise again.