Hey! You there! Yes, you! Do you have a 70 hour road trip to embark upon for the summer? If you dwell in Texas, I'm sure you do. Because 70 hours is how long it takes to get anywhere in Texas, due to it being as large as all of the other states in the Union combined. Plus one of the Koreas.
Here's the thing - if I have somewhere to go in Texas, I usually drive. It makes the trip so much more fulfilling. Flying is annoying. Driving is calming, and you make the rules. You don't have someone telling you when to board, you don't have to be packed in some random vehicle (that you don't know whether or not is mechanically sound) and if you ARE packed in like a sardine, at least it's with people you KNOW.
Now naturally, there are some pitfalls with road tripping as well. One can only listen to so much of the Insane Clown Posse albums before a road trip becomes monotonous, bland and sometimes even maddening. But I have some ideas for you that will really put some excitement into a lackluster road trip. Aren't you excited? And grateful?
I'm taking you from this
To THIS!
That's right, you saw that. Weird drawing of walking a long and lonesome road to driving a maserati (not pictured - but just imagine it) while awesome celestial happenings pepper the sky.
So clearly the solution I have in mind is having super fun games in order to keep your fragile mind from collapsing on itself like a black hole. So without further adieu...
1. Go get a post it notes pad.
2. Put two post it notes on the passenger side window.
3. Label them Roadkill and Trucks
Roadkill: The Game
What you do, is count every dead animal you see. Is it gross? Yes. But NOT cataloging it isn't going to make it any easier to endure. HELLO - you're going to notice it! Why not document? Plus, if you actually save the statistics you'll know what time of year you're likely to encounter the most dead animals, and thus you can avoid it. Isn't that fun?
Trucks
Just get as many as you can to honk. And document that. PASSENGER VERSUS DRIVER!!! Winner gets...whatever. Recognition? A coke? Whatever you want.
Finally, we come to the best game which requires no documentation.
BLIND
Blind is a game I invented on road trip when I was alone, very tired and feeling a bit sadistic.
Some things to know about Blind: 1. Blind can only be played at night, and 2. It's a delicate art.
Here you are, driving down one of those lovely lonesome two lane back-woods Texas highways. You have your high beams on, because you do. Then, you see a car coming. What you do, is (as you would normally do) when you encounter another driver at night you turn off the high beams as a courtesy. BUT! Just as they are about to pass you, you hit them with the high beams and laugh diabolically.
That's it! The rules are simple, but the payoff is both huge and complex. It's a thrill ride of deliberate cruelty and rule breaking! And it keeps you awake!
Here's the best part - Blind won't get you in trouble. Why? Because it could be an accident. You could have ACCIDENTALLY turned on your brights again just a liiiiiiittle too soon. So the other driver may be pissed, but not pissed enough that they're going to go all 'brutal road rage' on you.
Have a great summer everyone!
As you know, recently I went to Mexico. This was in Baja California Sur - by and large the nicest part of Mexico I've been to. I've been to Acuna and Nuevo Laredo (Lisa's 20th birthday whaaaaaaat!), but those are border towns and not an accurate reflection of the entire country. For instance, this is where you encounter 'pharmacies' on every corner, strange bodies of water on the streets that may or may not be milk, trash bags on streets that may or may not be filled with severed heads... you know, that sort of ambiance.
Great margaritas though.
Anyway, those are the border towns. But I went to a very different sort of border town in the summer of 2001, right before my freshman year in college, that I'd wager that .0001 of the population has been to. Probably less. It's a tiny little town called Boquillas in Chihuahuan desert.
Here's a picture of the thriving metropolis that is downtown Boquillas...
As a precursor, I'm going to tell you something you already know. From the ages of 18-24, I thought the greatest thing in life was to grab up a few friends and drank. Not drink. Drank. There's a difference between drink and drank that you may not know about.
Example: Let's go grab a drink.
Drank, on the other hand, is different. I could call you and say....
"Oh my gosh whozits...."
"It's been the (insert literally any word here) DAY EVER. Let's go drank!"
....which leads to
You understand.
Now, this takes place the summer after my senior year...and as such, I was ready to get to college and live it up like Animal House styles. However, an entire summer had to be spent prior to living the dream, and I spent most of mine in Alpine, Texas with my dad and step mother. My dad, at the time, was the editor for the Alpine Avalanche - the local paper. And it just so happened that there was a rather exciting story that he wanted to report on, but unfortunately didn't have the man power (ie, reporters). Or did he?
Eventually dad thought "Hey, why not send Mary? This will be a great life experience for her." Well, he was right. And when he broke mention of it to me, I was like "Oh I'm gonna get mah drank on, because I can. In Mexico you don't have to be 21 to drank." Actually, I'm pretty sure in this little patch of Mexico you don't even have to have started teething to drink. (of course I didn't ACTUALLY say this to him... because that would be a guarantee on being pulled from the project immediately)
Anyway, the story I would be working on, in my opinion, was nothing short of fabulous. A conservation biology (me) nerd's dream. Mexico had decided to set aside some land in the Chihuahuan desert to use as a wilderness preserve in order to restore the area to it's natural state. Flora, fauna. All would be kept in pristene condition in order to maintain the integrity of the indeginous majesty. The story would be full of exciting facts...and oh the photograph potential!
So two days before the dedication of the preserve, Christina (a bilingual Avalanche employee) and I loaded up in the company suburban (like.. a suburban ala 1990) and headed aft through Big Bend National Park to the border for Boquillas. On the way down, Christina filled me in on some deets.
1) The only place remotely close to where this dedication is taking place is Boquillas, which describes not only a small town, but rather an area of Mexico that is largely uninhabited.
2) Boquillas is a town of less than 100 and has no running water or electricity.
3) We'll be staying at an "American" bed and breakfast that has access to natural hot springs for bathing. I put American in quotes because it this place was run by expatriates and because usually American implies 'safe' in other countries as well. This is what I assumed she meant.
When we arrived at the border, we had to cross the Rio Grande. This is how we were transported:
Then, we got to the B&B. Bed and Breakfast was a very... complimentary way of describing this place. Or at least my experience of it. For starters, because the town had no phone lines (or cell service) you couldn't call to make a reservation. And of course, due to the dedication, the place was full. This translated to me and Christina having to sleep on cots on their screened in porch. I don't think I need to remind you that this was the middle of summer...in a Mexican desert...
The next morning we woke up and bathe in the hot springs. Thank GOD no one was there but us. Then, we treked out into the desert with the other folks attending the dedication via 1970s SUVs. If the cars had broken down, I swear I'd just be a pile of bones being used as a perch by buzzards. But finally, after an hour and a half of travel in the blinding white scorching sands, we arrived and...
IT WAS AWESOME.
There were all sorts of dignitaries, biologists, Mexico City socialites and the like. I felt very under-dressed, but suddenly all of that melted away when I saw about ten troughs full of corona. I excused myself post haste from Christina and raided the troughs. Then, I set out with my camera. In the misty haze of fabulous Mexican beer, I found many things to photograph. OH LOOK (said I) A SPIDER'S WEB! NeVer hAAAve EYE seeeen SuCh a glorious MajEstic Web!! AND LOOOOOOOK tHiS yucCa! Nature thou arT FuLLLl of SpLenDOR!
Midway through my photographic reverie, Christina tracked me down because the dedication was beginning. I giggled the whole way through because the translator, I kid you not, sounded exactly like Cheech Marin.
THEN - ADVENTURE TIME!!!!!!!! Helicopter tours, front-mounted seating range rover tours.... we had a grand old time. I felt like I was in Mexican Jurassic Park!
...and I slept the whole way back to Boquillas.
The next morning, a lovely Sunday morning, we prepared to depart for Alpine. Again whe hit the hot springs. Then? We hit the bar while the town's church service was being announced over the town's loud speaker - a giant speaker mounted on a pole. (you know, in case you were working... or drinking... (which I guess is pretty common for Boquillians) you could hear the service.) Yay!
This is where Christina introduced me to the wondrous world of Mezcal. Here's some history on Mezcal:
Mezcal, or mescal, is a distilled alcoholic beverage made from the maguey plant (a form of agave, Agave americana) native to Mexico. The word mezcal comes from Nahuatl melt and ixcalli which both mean 'oven cooked agave.'
The maguey grows in many parts of Mexico, though most mezcal is made in Oaxaca. There is a saying attributed to Oaxaca regarding the drink: "para todo mal, mezcal, y para todo bien también" (for everything bad, mezcal, and for everything good, too.)
Despite the similar name, mezcal does not contain mescaline or other psychedelic substances.
And oh yeah. It has a worm in it.
The worm: It is a misconception that some tequilas contain a 'worm' in the bottle. Only certain mezcals, usually from the state of Oaxaca, are ever sold con gusano, and that only began as a marketing gimmick in the 1940s. The worm is actually the larval form of the moth Hypopta agavis that lives on the agave plant. Finding one in the plant during processing indicates an infestation and, correspondingly, a lower quality product. However this misconception continues, and even with all the effort and marketing to represent tequila as a premium—similar to the way cognac is viewed in relation to brandy—there are some opportunist producers for the shooters-and-fun market who blur these boundaries.
Recently a company had the idea to put a scorpion in the bottle instead of the traditional worm. They do not recommend eating the scorpion, but the stingers are removed for those willing to try.
No thanks. The worm was enough!
Christina handled the stuff like a well-oiled machine... but after two shots of worm tequila, I was toast. I didn't even want to make the 15 minute walk back to the lovely canoe awaiting us at the Rio Grande. So Christina, forlorn and no doubt very frustrated, found an alternative option to waiting. She left the bar for a quarter of an hour, and came back gesturing for me to step outside. When I went outside, I found my chariot awaiting...
That's right. Christina hauled my ass back to the Rio Grande on a donkey.
...then we crossed the river....
Once we reached our 'burb, I reclined my seat to the lovely white noise of Christina repeating the phrase "don't tell your dad" about a hundred times. And once again, I slept the whole way back.
I wish I had a copy of the story Christina and I wrote for the Avalanche about the trip, but unfortunately I don't. And apparently the Avalanche doesn't keep stories dating back to 2001 on their website. Needless to say, quite a bit was omitted.... but I know in my heart of hearts that it was a GLORIOUS story based in fact with a few patches sewn in to cover spots where our memories were slightly fuzzy... or our handwriting was too difficult, even for us, to read.
You may be like "hey, that sounds... pretty dangerous actually...."
Yeah, well, you have no idea. I left out the part that the Mexican Militia was out, in great numbers, everywhere we went. EVERYWHERE! And one militia man told me "Maria, you are the most beautiful Maria...I have evah seen." (you have to say that in an Antonio Banderas accent)
But you know what? Keep calm and carry on. And then judge. And then embrace.
I have several metaphor vehicles that I routinely employ in illustration of how I regard my life. My favorite happens to be, apart from a miasma that is, that of an airport. I picture myself blundering about this figurative airport, encountering cancellations, gate changes, delays, transfers and the like. Perhaps one day I'll get out of it, but in the mean time I'm in a perpetual state of being in transition from one place in life to another without having found a place to drop my bags and unpack.
Having said that, I'm coming to yet another major junction in my figurative travels. In August, I will be moving to Alpine. Sound familiar? If not, you are welcome to go HERE to see my first miasma post or to refresh your memory. In October of last year, I decided to (as if this is unusual) run a life evaluation to see where I was in my scale of success. As usual I was falling short - and I'll do you the honor of illustrating. If you would have asked me as a senior in high school, here's what I would have told you my life was going to be like.
2001: Graduate high school
2005: Graduate college magna cum laude
? Years of study in the WILDS of some rainforest collecting LARGE QUANTITIES OF GROUND-BREAKING IMPORTANT BIOLOGICAL DATA!
Marriage (approx age 26)
Babies
More working and getting LARGE AMOUNTS OF FOLDIN' CASH
=
Age 50 = retirement and touring Europe with friends smoking fancy cigarettes out of those long tubes like Audrey Hepburn uses in Breakfast at Tiffany's and drinking white wine spritzers.
Sounds pretty great, right?
Well, it totally didn't happen that way. Between 2001 and 2005 I encountered a lot of really difficult obstacles (not of my own design) that threw me into my airport jail that's lasted until 2011. But I'm about to embark with my few successes (Kevin and Amelia) to Alpine to finally finish my stupid degree. Don't get me wrong, I'm enthusiastic, but finishing like 10 years behind what you had anticipated is pretty disappointing no matter the excuses. And you might think that (what, with all of the spare time I have had to plan out where I'll end up in the future) I'd have it all figured out.... but I don't. I have absolutely no idea what to do after this degree business is finally finished.
Plan as of now: finish in 1 year and throw a billion resumes out to the wind and hope that it blows me in the right direction.
I was pretty sure I wanted to move back to Amarillo, but really I just don't know. Is it a great place to raise a family? Yes. Does it maybe have too much of a tie to my past and therefore might hinder my ability to continue to grow as a person and allow me to dwell on things that have caused me great sadness in the past? Yes. Do I have some stellar friends there that I would love to be around and watch our children grow together? Yes. But at the same time would that be depressing to see all of their families surrounding them there, where I no longer have any? Yes.
So here I am (as Kaki would say in her blog post titles).... having no idea whatsoever.
All I know is that on August 21st I'll be in a new place. Wish me luck! And send me ideas about where I can live afterward...
Also - I'll be posting another story next week that's vastly more interesting (and scandalous) that this and my previous post.
Man, is it hard to come home from a trip in paradise. Going to Cabo San Lucas for Whitney's wedding was the best thing ever! Now I'm in a slump. Whaddup with all of this structure during my day? Why is everything here covered in cement? Why does everything smell of gasoline? Yuck. Also, how the eff did I gain seven pounds in Mexico? Oh, that's right. I was at an all inclusive resort with 24 hour room service and four different restaurants. Blah. BLAH. Here's a picture of the ocean taken from where we stayed.
I've found one thing that's cheering me up today, and that's Jack Handey quotes. My uncle Bill recently commented on a Gandhi quote that my aunt Mary posted with a Jack Handey quote and it made my day. Here's the thread:
(Aunt Mary says) Three-fourths of the miseries and misunderstandings in the world will disappear if we step into the shoes of our adversaries and understand their standpoint. I offer you peace. I offer you love. I offer you friendship. I see your beauty. I hear your need. I feel your feelings. My wisdom flows from the Highest Source. I salute that Source in you. Let us work together for unity and love.
(Uncle Bill says) “Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you are a mile away from them and you have their shoes.” Jack Handey
(I say) YES. YES UNCLE BILL. Jack Handey is my Gandhi. Good quote though Marrrayy. True. I just identify more with ole Jack, I think.
Now? The whole family is in a full tilt Jack Handey quote war on facebook. Take a back seat Gandhi! Here comes Jack Handey, the great Texan philosopher!
"The funniest thing to a great white shark must be a wounded seal trying to swim to shore, because, where does he think he's going?!"
— Jack Handey
Exactly. This is why I refuse to snorkel.
"When I was a kid my favorite relative was Uncle Caveman. After school we'd all go play in his cave, and every once in a while he would eat one of us. It wasn't until later that I found out that Uncle Caveman was a bear."
— Jack Handey
I had an Uncle Velociraptor.
"Sometimes when I feel like killing someone, I do a little trick to calm myself down. I'll go over to the person's house and ring the doorbell. When the person comes to the door, I'm gone, but you know what I've left on the porch? A jack-o-lantern with a knife in the side of its head with a note that says "You." After that, I usually feel a lot better, and no harm done..."
— Jack Handey
If only I could do this to every single person I'm stuck in rush hour traffic with.
"The wise man can pick up a grain of sand and envision a whole universe. But the stupid man will just lie down on some seaweed and roll around until he's completely draped in it. Then he'll stand up and go, "Hey, I'm Vine Man."
— Jack Handey
Literally, this is now my mantra.
"I think that a hat that has a cannon that comes out, fires, and then goes back in is at least a decade away."
— Jack Handey
And thank Christ for that.
"Whenever you read a good book, it’s like the author is right there, in the room, talking to you, which is why I don’t like to read good books."
- Jack Handey
I read the Twilight series. I don't think I need to say anything else.
"It's true that every time you hear a bell, an angel gets its wings. But what they don't tell you is that every time you hear a mouse trap snap, and Angel gets set on fire."
— Jack Handey
JUST YOU REMEMBER THAT! Mouse traps are inhumane anyway, even though mice are gross I still wouldn't use one. I'd just tie a cat to a long rope in my basement. If I had a basement that had mice in it.
That's all today folks. Ideally I'll come up with something a little more interesting in June!
I woke up on a not-so-distant-past Monday morning feeling as if I had just regained consciousness after months of being in a coma. This was because the previous weekend's activities took me on a magical thrill ride of awesomeness the likes of which have never been seen.
It all started with planning Whitney's bachelorette party. I love planning bachelorette parties. Actually, I love planning anything. I like making up lists, organizing and highlighting them, striking through certain things (neatly) and then editing the list until it's an unflawed thing of perfection. I totally had a list for this. Places to go, things to eat and etc. But as you may know, the very best vacations happen when the list goes out the window and you just go with it. This is precisely one of those vacations.
Something especially great about this desert trek through the sands of awesome was that I didn't even have to leave town. We stayed at the Hotel San Jose right smack in the middle of bustlin' South Congress. That means we were close to some of the town's best shopping and eateries. The Hotel San Jose is one of "those hotels." As in, when you tell people you're staying there they all do a wistful sigh. It's not that it's overly nice, it's just really Austin-y and in a fab location. Here are some pictures!
The front.
The pool.
The hotel beer and wine bar.
Our suites!
Jo's Coffee next door.
When I showed up at the hotel the gals had just arrived. Even though I had never met them, I felt like I had because of a string of email threads that had been going on for months prior to the event. If you know me at all, you know I often speak very oddly. I'm sure you can tell via this blog. So when I started seeing strange language all over our email threads by them, it excited me to no end. I love saying amaze-yewls. When I saw one of them say amazeuals (what?! an extra syllable!!!) on one of the emails I was like "YES! I LOVE these girls!" And then Bonnie, Karen and Jennifer waltzed into my life and ROCKED IT. Whitney and Aubrie, the other two, were already ROCKING IT. Since all of them are from Dallas, I'm beginning to wonder why I be hatin' on Dallas so much. Hmm.
Check-in. Super annoying. They told me that check-in began promptly at 3pm.. but they didn't have our room ready until 4pm. What?! Yes, this gave us a chance to sit by the pool and begin drinking, but there were kids cannon-balling at the tiny ass pool. Look at the pool! I posted a picture! Dude, don't let your kids cannonball in a pool that size. Very bad form. So a full hour later (hello at least offer us a free drink or something!) we were able to check in and begin the oh-so-familiar girl get-ready process. Then? On to Gueros!
It's a taco bar about a block or two away from the hotel.
Live music came ext, as it was easy to access being right next door to the restaurant. Now, Jennifer up until this moment had seemed like the quietest of the group. Yes, she participated and was fun, but I hadn't quite pegged her to be the "WOOHOOOOOO" one. But then when the live music came about... Jennifer sprang from the depths of herself and was dancing like there was no tomorrow. I believe the band addressed her specifically several times. GETTIT Jennn!!!!
Even though the beer was flowing like wine and the salmon were instinctively flocking like the salmon of Capistrano, it couldn't change the face that due to the live music, we couldn't even hear ourselves think. So we decided to take a quick jaunt back to the hotel before making up our minds where to go next. Confession. I immediately broke into a sake bottle being held captive in the mini bar in our room. Save the sake guys! It was all alone in there! Not really, but anything I can say to rationalize drinking it.
Finally we made up our minds to go with Ego's, a karaoke bar within walking distance. Despite the fact that it was well within walking distance, we got lost. Of course. And as soon as I got to the bar, I directly ordered a double gin and tonic. I sat down, and started people watching. All of a sudden I felt the need to scratch my scalp, and guess what I found when I did. A WORM. A GEE DEE EFFING SILK WORM. Do these guys stalk me? EVIDENCE = YES.
Jennifer signed up everyone for karaoke, and she signed herself up with Whitney first. Jen picked SHOOP by Salt n' Peppa and we were all really excited! So she and Whitney get up on stage, and start. Usually karaoke is two people falling all over themselves to get the words right, and Whitney was at-par with that. But I think this was basically due to Jen TOTALLY DOMINATING at karaoke!
She knew every word and said it in perfect timing! This naturally made the whole bar obsessed with her. Including a girl. It was truly bizarre - she made Jen give her a business card, and upon realizing the card did not include Jen's cell, she MADE her write it down on the card. Whitney to Jen "that girl wanted to wear your hair." I think Whitney was right.
Ego's is a crappy looking bar. But it's fun. I had a lot of fun, and a lot of gin and tonics. And it was good that I did, because I needed a lot of the hard stuff to get me through the experience that was the bathroom. The bathroom looked like it was fresh out of the Rwandan genocide. Like someone had recently been there with a machete, slinging it all over the place. I'm pretty sure there was a blood-like substance on the ceiling. I actually cautioned some entering girls that it WAS Rwanda in there. God knows what they thought I meant.
Whitney basically carried Jennifer home, and that was the end of the night.
DAY 2
Since this post is getting awfully long, I'm going to give you the abridged version.
Girls go to get massages at AZIZ downtown. DO NOT GO TO AZIZ. They told Bonnie that her arms were strangely long and chastised Aubrie for having short nails. It looked like rural Mexico. They were all kept apart the whole time and they treated Whitney like CRAP even though she's the bride. They also charged them for a member of our party that didn't show up even though they were running behind on their appointments... if anything our extra party member being absent helped. They are ridiculous fools... but I can't say they didn't make things interesting.
Complete filth. But whatever.
The rest of the day went as follows.
Breakfast = Jo's Coffee
Lunch = Place that serves meat in a cone
Shopping = Hot as EFF on South Congress...like 90+ degrees. Miserable.
Next = Hotel.
Next = Getting ready, piling up into Bonnie's car.
Dinner = Sushi at Imperia. Wine and sake consumption.
We = Without question the loudest and most inappropriate table in the restaurant.
Weirdness = Encounter our second of 3 people with lisps on the trip - the second being our waiter. And our waiter tells us after eating some delicious escolar that it will give us diarrhea.
WAITERS. NEVER TELL PEOPLE THAT AFTER THE FACT. IT WILL NOT DO ANY GOOD. AND IT'S DISGUSTING TO SAY DIARRHEA AT ANY ESTABLISHMENT THAT OFFERS FOOD.
Then, the hand of God came out and touched our table. Collectively we decided to form a travel group called TRAVUALS! First we're going to Cabo San Lucas for Whitney's wedding, then we're going to have a birthday blowout for Bonnie at the Belmont. Future travuals ideas include Napa Valley, somewhere on the east coast for oyster tour awesomeness, Santa Fe/Taos, the Big Bend area and more. It's going to be so badass. What's better than a traveling group of inappropriate and debaucherous girls?! Nothing I tell you. Nothing.
Next = adult shop of questionable repute. I'm very shy about talking about this stuff, so I'm going to be cryptic. A lot of money was spent by the ladies. Let's just say that. But in the midst of this, we had to deal with the traffic associated with the Texas Relays. Relays is a gangster spectator sport, apparently. Everyone thinks it's just track and field. It's not. Because this is what we saw everywhere we went when we were out Saturday.
Do you SEE the crazy line of cars with RIMS? Like 60,000 people were in the downtown alone causing ruckus.
It was seriously scary! Poleetz cars everywhere!
Then? Back to the hotel beer and wine bar for wine, beer and sangria. Penis tiara in all the pictures. At some point I decided to do the whole 'hold the camera up' thing to get pictures of the group in action. Basically I got a bunch of weird photos of the tops of peoples heads.
Back to the room. Whitney and Aubrie walk to Home Slice Pizza and get like 45 pieces of pizza to go. We eat them. All. With ranch. We basically motor boated the ranch and pizza.
Sunday morning = packing.
Go to Snack Bar for brunch, where we drink mimosas.
Order delicious breakfastuals.
Again, the loudest most obnoxious table in the establishment. We relive the night and embarrass the hell out of Aubrie's boyfriend who came to pick her up. He was so pleasant considering the content of our discussions.
So sad to see these gals leave. TRAVUALS IS THE FABUALS!!!!!!!
Also, this is a bachelorette party which warrants lewd behavior. So if you have a wayward eyebrow? As Bonnie would say, "judge and get over it."
Walking to work is getting progressively more interesting. Here's what happened today:
I walked by the gas station near my house, and there was a guy standing by his car filling up his tank.
Guy: Hey sugar! What's shaking?
Me: Don't talk to me you vagrant filth. (he wasn't a vagrant)
Guy: Wuh...wha?
Me: You are ugly. (he wasn't)
Guy: Whuhf?
You may be saying "geez, why were you so rude?" I'll tell you why. Because cat calling women is disgusting and tactless. Men - do not cat call women. DON'T DO IT. Plus, any woman who responds positively to cat calling isn't worth having. I taught him a lesson, and I feel pretty proud of myself.
Second happening:
I was walking past an empty lot between two houses, and I saw a rogue quail! Usually quail wander around together, but this was a solitary. I had two reactions to seeing the quail.
And...
You see, quail are very tasty. It's also very rare to run into one in the city, so... should I take the opportunity to pounce? If he decides to run out into the middle of the street he will get smooshed, and then a lot of tasty quail meat will go to waste. But alas, I could not make myself attack the quail. Plus, I'd just eaten cereal.
And at last, we come to the final happening:
I'd like to say I remembered to bring a blow torch with me today for the silk worms, but I didn't. It's okay though, because I didn't have any run-ins with them today. Well.... sort of. I did see a silk worm, but he was dead and didn't end up in my hair.
All in all a pretty good morning!
I walk to work most days because it's close to my house. Might as well, especially keeping in mind the desire for fast and severe weight loss (I'm a bridesmaid at a beach wedding in May). Though I doubt walking 3 miles will contribute much to that.
Anyway, if you know me, you know that my not-so-secret dream profession would be to become an Entomologist. What's that you say? Why, it is one who studies insects. My whole life I've been obsessed with bugs of all kinds. When I was little, I used to go to my back yard and collect them. My favorite insect to collect was the cicada.
This is a cicada in the nymph stage. They do not fly, they just toodle around with a hard exoskeleton until one day they decide to climb up a tree and hatch, much like a butterfly. Then they'll sit there on top of their shells waiting for their wings to dry, and then they look like this.
You don't have to tell me how amazing that is. I already know. I loved to watch this process growing up - it was absolutely fascinating to me. But one day, I was shocked out of my reverie when I witnessed something despicable.
A BIRD SWOOPED OUT OF THE SKY AND ATE A CICADA FRIEND OF MINE BEFORE HE WAS EVEN DONE DRYING HIS WINGS!!!
Abhorrent filth! At least give the cicada a fighting chance..... BAD FORM! As a child I was stricken at the thought of these cicadas, whose life span was so very short, being picked off before they even had a chance to explore the wondrous skies. So, in my lil brain, I formed a plan to ensure the proliferation of my insect friends.
The next morning I woke up with a start. I reached under my bed, and grabbed my caboodle. Yes. My caboodle. Remember those?
In an attempt to beat the birds, I ran around my back yard and then, once that was done, the neighborhood like the Tasmanian devil collecting hatching cicadas and putting them my caboodle, proclaiming "they will be safe, by GOD!"
Now...erm....all the cicadas in my caboodle died because I forgot about them. But hey, I tried.
Anyway, now you know of my love for bugs. But to get back on task about walking to work and such...
Naturally when one takes the time to walk, they tend to pay more close attention to their surroundings. But traffic is also a factor to contend with, and thus distraction by said surroundings must be kept to a moderate level. So every time I walk, I look around to make sure I'm not going to be squashed by cars... because that's what you should do when walking. But lately, I've been having run-ins with something else entirely. Worms.
Every time I look another way, while walking, they come out of nowhere and slap me right in the face. Let me illustrate how:
Tree worms. With their little silk lines, decide to just hang in mid air. And when your attention is captured by something else, there they are. Right in your face going "oh heyyyyy, y'all ran into my silk!"
Every five seconds. I swear. I'm looking at the ground...
"Oh heyyyyy! Y'all need to watch out cuz yew ruinin' my silk!!"
Looking at a car that just slammed on its breaks...
"Oh heyyyy, y'all really need to look where yew walk!"
Looking at some trees in bloom...
"Oh heyyyyy, I guess y'all didn't see me! Here I am in your hair now!"
Now as much as I love bugs, even worms, I'm about to take these little em-effers out. I swear, I'm one step away from bringing a blow torch with me. So if you live in Austin, or anywhere where these guys reside....watch out.....
"Ima getchuuu y'all!"
