Entry #7

Entry #7

Wednesday, September 7

I didn’t realize until I went to the dog park today and met a woman who’d been evacuated (along with her five rescue dogs) that the Texas fires had spread dangerously close to here. Unlike the fire near Austin that’s still only 30% contained after raging for nearly four days, the fire in Montgomery County (which is where we’re living) is 80% contained, so that’s reassuring. Still, knowing that someone who lives only 20 miles away might lose her house is a bit too close for comfort. If only this state would get a few drops of much-needed rain. Luckily the winds have died down, so the fire is spreading less quickly.

11:00 a.m. I went in to Walgreen’s to pick up a prescription and stood in line behind a woman whose daughter was mulling around a Halloween candy display. I commented that it was hard to believe that Halloween stuff was already out. “Yes, just eight weeks away!” said the mother. “Whatcha gonna be?” she asked. “Scared,” I responded, half-joking. Not amused, she asked again, “You mean you’re not gonna dress up?”

After learning I’ve been here less than a month, the woman said, “You’re new in this town. I’d like to invite you to my church,” which was very nice. I tried to politely decline, saying, “Thank you, but I don’t attend church.” I could see her face contort, so I tried to explain, “Well, I’m Jewish,” which made her look even more alarmed. “There are a few of us around here,” I added, then smiled, said good-bye and left the store.

4:00 p.m. Since it’s been so hot, I thought it would be a fun after-school diversion to do some taste-testing of ice cream/frozen yogurt places with the kids. So far they’ve gone to TCBY, Marble Slab Creamery and Orange Leaf Frozen Yogurt. One little boy put his mouth under the serving spout for a quick taste—pretty funny. Not great yogurt, but the kids enjoyed it, and we found out the cashier, like my sister, is from Pittsburgh. The kids were excited to tell him they just went there in August.

Next to Orange Leaf yogurt is a place called Cartoon Cuts. We were trying to figure out what kind of store it was until it dawned on us that it’s a kids’ hair salon, though the name doesn’t really give me great confidence in their overall quality. Have you ever seen George Jetson's hair? Beetle Bailey wears a hat to cover his few remaining strands. This would worry me.

Then again, it would be fun to walk into Cartoon Cuts and say, “I’ll have the Betty Boop cut, please. On second thought, make it a Marge Simpson.”

Thursday, September 9

At drop-off, 8:30 a.m.: Noah took a look at the “upper school” buildings, two make-shift, trailer-like structures that are being used for temporary and said, “Don’t those buildings look like giant garbage bins? They look like you could just lift the tops up and put garbage inside.” So much for the charming, one-room schoolhouse image I’ve attempted to conjure.

Izzie had to stay at home this morning because my car was stuffed to the gills with dirty laundry. David won’t let me drive the van because the brakes sound really awful, so I had to stuff three weeks’ worth of family laundry into the granny mobile.

9:00 a.m. Went to get a soy latté from Starbuck’s, the only café in The Woodlands (I have yet to find a single independently owned one). The guy in front of me ordered six Venti-size drinks, each the size of a small pitcher. Most of the baristas were tending to the drive-thru. Next door at Walgreen’s, there is a drive-thru for the pharmacy. Down the road, there’s a drive-thru for the bank. There’s essentially a drive-thru (why isn’t it spelled “through”?) for the kids’ schools, too, via the ubiquitous car lines. No wonder I feel so isolated. I’m one of the few people who actually stops to park the car.

11:00 a.m. I drove from one side of The Woodlands to the other and could not find a single laundromat. Apparently people who need to use laundromats do not inhabit this area. One must drive beyond its periphery to find such a place.

At the very end of The Woodlands going west, there is an upscale “The Woodlands” sign on stone facing, along with some faux bronze deer sculptures, and a Wal-Mart super-dee-duper store (it’s that big). At the other end is a similar sign, with similar frozen-in-place deer, and an enormous mall. I spotted two flattened raccoons just beyond the area that separates The Woodlands from Not-The-Woodlands. Poor critters just couldn’t get out of this place alive.

Unlike the raccoons, I did manage to escape The Woodlands Zone, but I did get lost for an embarrassing amount of time, and had to ask countless people how to get to the Washateria. I finally found the place in a run-down strip mall next to a panaderia/taco place with darkened, steel-barred windows. The laundromat was large and clean and relatively empty, with two overhead televisions played a Spanish soap opera and an English one simultaneously. The drink machine was out of order and there was no air conditioning, but at least there were some cold beverages for sale in a heavily-locked fridge. A pachinko machine separated the long row of seats along the front—haven’t seen one of those in forever.

The manager, Miguel, was a bit scary looking, mostly because of his blackish, rotting teeth, but he was actually quite friendly. He helped me when I couldn’t figure out that I needed to put more than one quarter in the washing machine for it to work (I needed $5 for each high-capacity washer), and gave me two quarters back when the dryer I was using became possessed and kept spinning my clothes around while the door was opened (it stopped as soon as I closed it).

For the longest while, it was just me and a few Latino guys, then one Latina woman and her son (who spent his time zooming around a plastic truck, eating Oreos and drinking Coca Cola). Before I left, a redneck-looking woman, her daughter and granddaughter came, and they had nearly as much laundry as I had. The grandmother came in yelling, “Babies for sale,” referring to the little girl in tow. Later, the older woman directed her daughter to separate the clothing: “Them’s not whites; them’s colored,” and told her granddaughter to just hang out under a table and stay out of the way. Poor little gal.

While waiting for my bounty o’ laundry to get cleaned and dried, I looked through one of many Woodlands magazines that have filled my mailbox of late. I happened to have The Woodlands’ Living Magazine with me, hoping to find an interesting fact or two about this area. What I found, instead, were eleven advertisements for plastic surgery/cosmetic dermatology, nine ads for weight loss/exercise, five ads for cosmetic dentistry, four haircare ads (one for wigs), and countless images of model homes. One article focused on office gossip, while another discussed happy marriages, featuring a photo of Gramps and a twenty-something blond. The longest article, however, was a religious one, inspired by the passage, “Whatever you do, do it for the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:30).” I think these magazines are going straight to the recycling bin from now on. Then again, it would be nice to do something about the circles under my eyes...

Saturday, September 10

Last night we finally met several of our neighbors with a little get-together at a nearby house. While I have no idea what will come of this gathering, it was refreshing to actually chat with some real live people. I learned a great new recipe, too, for baked wonton wrappers with a dash of olive oil and parmesan. Excellent idea.

This morning Noah and I woke up at 6:15 to go to our first official “Learn to Row” lesson. There’s a good-size lake around here (“man made, not nature made,” as my niece, Abby, says) and the Rowing Club of the Woodlands offers such lessons. Since Noah is really tall, I thought this might be a good sport for him to try.

Since Noah’s only 13, he can’t row without me there, so I needed to sign up too, which means waking up at 6 a.m. next Saturday for another four-hour lesson. Ah, the things we do for our kids...Hopefully my muscle memory will kick in by next week (right now I seem to be experiencing muscle senility).