Entry #9

Entry #9

I must be worn out, because I got sick, which I rarely do. I was supposed to meet some nice Mexican ladies I met at the kids’ school yesterday for Bikram yoga, but could hardly walk up the stairs before crashing, let alone stand on my head in a sweaty studio.

On the way home, I actually ducked while driving in my car. Afterwards I wondered, what good would that’ve done? A pickup truck with a huge ladder sticking out of it almost drove into me before swerving and speeding in front. I might be driving an old lady car, but I don’t drive like an old lady. Still, the guy scared the hell out of me.

I’m used to navigating the zany roads and freeways of the San Francisco Bay Area, but I’ve never driven anywhere like this before. Seems the unspoken rule is to speed up as soon as someone wants to come into your lane. Where's the southern hospitality in that? Maybe we’ll ride our bikes to school as soon as the three-digit weather cools. That, or I’ll have to supe-up the granny mobile.

In The Woodlands, mailboxes are set up en masse, with the entire street’s worth of mailboxes all in post office-style cubbies in the middle of the cul-de-sac. While retrieving my mail yesterday, I ran into one of my neighbors. She couldn’t make it to the get-together last Friday night because their family went to the big high school football game—a big deal around here.

Homecoming is around the corner, and my neighbor warned me that there will be a lot of limosines and homecoming-related zaniness this coming weekend, beginning with a parade downtown. If I see throngs of gals teetering in 5” platforms and strapless satin ensembles, I’ll know why. A couple named Chad and Taylor were this year’s queen and king. They look like Ken and Barbie come to life. (I promise I’m not making any of this up.)

I’ve been thinking about going to Houston’s museum district and exploring that area and asked my neighbor if she’s gone to the Rothko Chapel (one place I’d like to see, among others). She grew up in Houston but said she doesn’t really go there much.

She did tell me (knowing that we’re from SF) that she was in San Francisco and participated in the  Alcatraz triathlon. I was mighty impressed. She said, “Yeah, it was fun.” She also said the Houston Ironman she completed (a full-length triathlon) was “fun,” too.

Running a full marathon followed by swimming several miles then getting up an biking across half a state is “fun”? I can't fathom that. A movie with popcorn is “fun.” A triathlon is painful, exhausting, grueling, and ultimately uplifting, I would imagine, but is not a lighthearted good time. Then again, maybe for my neighbor it really was. It's mind-boggling really, but then again, I have no natural endurance, so consider the source.

After hearing various dogs barking, my neighbor told me they used to have dogs until she realized she was allergic and gave her dogs to their cleaning lady. I told her that Izzie discovered a box turtle and dead nutria out back, as well as countless lizards—all new experiences for us living in Texas. She said that one of her dogs was bitten by a copperhead (a venomous snake) in her yard and came inside with a huge, swollen neck (he survived, luckily). Great. So now, in addition to the giant wasps and bees and scorpions, I have to be on the lookout for venomous snakes in my backyard. Knowing Izzie, she'd try to play with one.

My neighbor also told me about Halloween here. She said that rather than going door-to-door, everyone gathers around the cul-de-sac. Half of the adults dress-up, too. The last time I dressed up, David and I went as Hanz and Franz (from Saturday Night Live.) It was before we had kids (and Noah’s almost 14, so it’s been awhile). 

I get emails from Etsy, a site where independent artists/craftspeople from around the globe sell their wares, and happened upon an artist today who makes Halloween costumes. I looked to see where she’s from and of all places, she lives in Houston! Guess this really is a big Halloween town. I particularly liked the candy apple headband and s’mores costume. I can just imagine myself wearing that big, square outfit while my female neighbors dress up as Cat Woman or Princess Leia. It would be interesting to see the alter egos of my neighbors, get to know the "real them." We shall see...

On the way home, after dropping off the kids at school, I saw a couple neighbors out and slowed the car to say hi. David happened to be leaving for work then, drove by and subtlely mentioned that he’s going to trade the granny car in soon. I think he was embarrassed. The man we were greeting talked about his old BMW that his daughter crashed into a tree. He had a Jaguar parked in his garage.

In Berkeley, I didn't think about the car I drove or how people would perceive me in my vehicle. I wasn’t self-conscious about what I wore, or if I was wearing make-up or had my hair just-so. Here I’m much more aware of all this and it’s unsettling. And even though I still won't wear spiked heels or lots of makeup or jewelry, I do feel self-conscious. It’s an odd phenomenon because the social norms are unspoken and yet quite palpable.

When I feel better I definitely need to hit the gym.

Friday, September 16

We’ve been here exactly one month today. Feels like a year, or really more like a time warp, as if we could return to the Bay Area and feel as if this experience was just a very strange dream.

Many people around here seem to think The Woodlands epitomizes The American Dream—big homes, fancy cars, highly rated public schools, manicured lawns, convenient amenities...but somehow none of it seems that meaningful without a sense of belonging or community.

While reading the Woodlands Villager this morning, I found the following ad: “Chi-Weenies for Sale.” Chihuahua Daschund mixes perhaps? The ad was in the pet section.

I have seen the ingredient “Chihuaha cheese” listed at a Tex-Mex restaurant, and quite frankly, it didn’t seem very appealing. David imagined someone milking a tiny Chihuahua to make this rare and unusual cheese, assuming that it is actually a cheese (opposed to foods like “head cheese,” which isn’t actually cheese at all).

Another ad I saw was the following: “50% off! Going out of business sale! Hoots Place in Grandma’s Hand-Me-Downs (By Yo Mama’s).” The thought of hoots (hooters?) inside Grandma's hand-me-downs near yo' mama is altogether unsavory.

Only in Texas: “Liquidating Trophy Room: Hundreds of taxidermy mounts, antique guns, ivory, indian and cowboy collectibles.” Isn't the sale of real ivory illegal? Then again, there might be lot of other borderline stuff there, too (re: taxidermy). I don’t want to know.

A place called Buckaroos and Tutus: A Children’s Boutique, is celebrating its grand opening. The term “gender stereotyping” comes to mind. What if my daughter wanted to be a cowgirl and my son a ballet dancer? Wouldn’t fly in these parts, I imagine. I did see a man in a pink tutu running with his dog near our place in San Francisco once. The dog was wearing a tutu, too.

One featured photo in The Woodlands Villager was “Alden Bridge Yard of the Month.” The photo showed three blond sisters (Taylor, Madison and Olivia) holding a big sign “The Woodlands, Texas...Yard of the Month...Sponsored by Chik-Fil-A and Lowe’s.” I agree that a nice yard is a lovely thing, but #1: I have yet to see one homeowner outside gardening; and #2: People should simply take pride in their homes, not be comparing or competing to see whose is “best.” Besides, there’s a huge drought here, so shouldn't the yard award should go to the one that’s the most dry and crusty?