Entry #25

Entry #25

Friday, December 2

I have a confession to make: I really like the magazine, Garden & Gun. I got a subscription as a tongue-in-cheek birthday present from my Southern friend, Ali, and just received my second issue.

The name is misleading, though. It’s as much a magazine about southern culture as it is anything else, from the vantage point of educated, creative, and yes, rather privileged folks. It’s fascinating to see a taste of “the true South,” beyond the stereotypes.

Just to set the record straight, I haven’t become an “NRA convert.” I still dislike guns, though the rococo relief carvings and sterling silver inlays of Bobby Denton’s rifles are works of art. And while I don’t plan to ever go on a hunt, I did enjoy gazing at the vintage-style photos of South Carolina’s Middleton Huntington Club. I'm definitely an outsider looking in...a Yankee gazing down the barrel of a Confederate:

Upon receiving my second copy in the mail, I sat down and read two articles about dogs. The first was an editorial about the largely misunderstood pit bull ("Licked to Death by a Pit Bull"), and the other, a profile of a man known for raising “some of the best hunting dogs in the world on a steady diet of patience and praise.” What's not to like?

In a feature on San Antonio architect, Ted Flato, I happened upon this great description of Texas, captured in a nutshell (pecan, of course):

“Texas is the South’s gateway to the West; it’s our bridge state, the territory in which farms give way to ranches, topsoil gives way to rock, the pig gives way to the cow, the wet gives way to the dry. For Texans, Texas is its own sovereign nation. What Texas’s regions have in common is that they’re all blazing hot. Hot-hot. Damn hot.”

—Guy Martin, Garden & Gun, December 2011/January 2012

Monday, December 5

9:00 a.m. I’ve recently added a 93.7 fm to my pre-programmed radio stations, mainly because the morning DJs are so wacky.

There are three hosts, though at first I couldn’t tell if one of them was male or female because his voice is in that amorphous range. He (she?) sounds like Minnie Pearl from Hee Haw! (if you remember that far back). S/he is very funny. All three are Southerners and, of course, staunch Republicans. 

This morning, one of the hosts asked, “Which one of the Republican candidates is ‘the most white?’” They decided upon Newt Gingrich and added, “If you put a white suit and a straw hat on him and gave him a cane, he would look just like a plantation owner.”

11:00 a.m. If it hadn’t poured last night, I would’ve thought Izzie struck oil out back, judging by her appearance when she came to the door. She was covered from muzzle to tail with black, sticky muck.

I did my best to wipe off her feet, but it was an act of futility. Upon realizing that she needed to get in the shower, Izzie ran out of the bathroom, on top of the bed, around the room, and out into the living room. Our house looked like a book illustrated with a dizzying track of paw prints. So much for cleaning the house yesterday...

5:00 p.m. I took Noah for a nutritional consultation, mainly because I wanted to make sure that Noah, our resident vegetarian, was getting ample protein and vitamins to nourish his (still) growing 6'2" frame.

In the waiting room, I sat across from a rather large man with a cropped bowl haircut whose voice and accent sounded remarkably like President Clinton. I wanted to tell him this, but because we’re in Perry country, I refrained from sharing that he sounded like a Democrat, albeit a Southern one.

The man heard me say something about being from Ohio, and he asked me where. “The Cleveland area,” I said, to which he beamed, “We’re from Cleveland, too!” He waited a beat, then said, “Cleveland, Texas!” He said it's about 45 minutes away from here.

When we finally sat down with the nutritionist, we told her that one of the protein sources Noah eats is tofu. This prompted an explanation about the phyto-estrogens in soy and the potential adverse effects on growing males. (Good thing I didn’t mention that Noah basically lived on Vanilla Enriched Soy Dream as a toddler.)

The nutritionist explained that males who eat too much soy might develop “man mounds,” i.e., man boobs. This struck us funny, and Aidan, Noah and I all burst into an uncontrollable giggles.

I tried to act like a respectable parent and be serious, but the more I tried to contain myself, the harder I laughed, especially with two wildly giggling boys nearby. 

Thankfully, we changed the subject and did our best to maintain our composure for the remainder of the meeting. We did learn about some good recipes, food options and supplements, so it was a worthwhile experience overall.

6:00 p.m. While researching holiday gift ideas, I happened upon an array of Texas-themed options. Let me know if you'd like anything...