Entry #36

Entry #36

Monday, January 23

11:00 a.m. I must’ve drunk the mint julep Kool-Aid, because I just read my new issue of Garden & Gun magazine cover to cover in one sitting. Reading this magazine is akin to having a very sophisticated but really fun native Southerner take you on a fascinating, off-the-beaten track tour of the Confederate states. Great for anthropologists and heavy drinkers alike.

The Feb/March issue included pieces on Lyle Lovett, Morgan Freeman (both of whom live on their grandparents’ farms, interestingly), landscape architect Charles Stick (perfect last name, eh?), Appalachian photographer Shelby Lee Adams, and hot spots in Houston, which will come in handy.

I was particularly struck by the intensity of Adams' black and white portraits. These people don't live easy lives:

When I got to "Inside the Mind of a Turkey Hunting Genius," I thought I'd just skim over it, but I got completely sucked in:

Turkey hunting is the hand-knit doily of the hunting genres...it is nothing if not a romance. the goal is to pretend to be a hen convincingly enough that the most dominant—and presumably delicious—gobbler will come to you, flush with expectations of intimacy...Nobody gets rejected by a deer. It takes a turkey to break your heart...Walea shoots only mature gobblers, birds that have lived well and long and whose future point toward painful and protracted deaths. “The idea is to communie with nature,” he explains. “To appreciate what God has given...” —Allison Glock

4:00 p.m. It’s “ice cream Monday,” so I took the kids to TCBY, which is just across the street from the kids' school. Noah got a cone, which was filled quite generously, but Aidan’s defied gravity. The server attempted to even out the vanilla yogurt and orange sorbet by adding a bit more (and then a bit more) on each side, resulting in this magnanimous creation:

Tuesday, January 24

10:00 a.m. I noticed a variety of interesting products at the grocery store today and thought I’d take some photos. Let me know if you’d like any of these Texas products shipped your way...

4:00 p.m. The Mom Expo, “A Women’s Show for Moms of Young Families, ” is coming to The Woodlands this weekend. I thought I’d check out their web site and see if “young families” meant really young or just somewhat young (it’s a relative term, after all).

Turns out the event is geared primarily towards expecting parents or families with toddlers. I don’t think my 11 and 14-year-old boys would be keen on listening to a reading of Hunka Chunka Shapes Up, dancing to Tom’s Fun Band, or watching the children's magic show. 

They might, however, get a kick out of the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile, which will be parked in front, awaiting photo ops: “Take pictures with this 75-year-old icon!” Perhaps we'll just pop by...After all, how often does the Weinermobile come to town?

Entry #35

Entry #35

Thursday, January 19

7:00 p.m. Lots of news lately. President Obama rejected a permit for the Keystone XL tar sands pipeline yesterday and Perry has officially taken himself out of the presidential race, “Going from the top of the Republican heap to dead last in the polls, behind even Stephen Colbert..” (Huffington Post).

While environmentalists were celebrating the rejection of the pipeline, oil executives here were up in arms. And even though Perry's become little more than a punchline elsewhere, he remains the Head Honcho of The Longhorn State.

Friday, January 20

4:00 p.m. We went to Market Square (part of The Woodlands’ town center area) to meet David at Starbuck’s (the only café in town) and brought Izzie with us. While sitting outside, a gentleman in what looked like a long-sleeved soccer jersey approached us. Turns out he was actually a security guard for the area. In a cordial tone, he alerted us that Izzie “can’t be here.” “Where?” we asked, thinking that perhaps she couldn’t be near the café. “Here,” he said.

We didn’t get a ticket, but we just sat there baffled, realizing that this place, with its spacious field and (nouveau) old-town charm, prohibited dogs entirely. Oddly, there weren’t any signs. No wonder Market Square is so pristine. No dust, dirt, or fur allowed. I’m assuming kids must be under voice control, at the very least. 

This might explain why these cast metal cardinals are the only critters I've seen in this area...

Sunday, January 21

9:00 a.m. The Sunday New York Times has a two-paged Texas “spread,” we discovered, including an interesting perspective on Perry. He may have exited the Republican race with his Stetson hanging low, but he’s still invincible in the Lone Star State.

“To many Americans outside Texas, Mr. Perry suffered a humiliating defeat in his failed bid to wint he Republican nomination, making gaffes and missteps that became punch lines of nationwide jokes and fodder for YouTube. But to many Texans, particularly those involved in politics, Mr. Perry’s return to the state is a far more nuanced and complicated matter.

...Mr. Perry’s term as governor does not expire until January 2015...’He still has virtually every board and commission in the state loyal to him...He still enjoys the strong support of the right wing in Texas. I’m sure he loses any stroke.’

And yet here and elsewhere in Texas, Mr. Perry’s poor performance appears to have had a more intangible effect, bruisingthe outsize ego of a state that has been as proud of its sports teams as it has of its politicians who have risen to national fame.” —New York Times, 01/22/12

3:00 p.m. En route to the kids’ art class today, we saw a rather drab brick house that’s now the official campus of The Novalash Eyelash Academy of Arts & Sciences. I noticed a Novalash “store” at Market Square, but didn’t realize there was an entire school devoted to the intensive study of hair follicles of the eyelid region. Talk about a narrow specialty.

Per usual, David and I walked around the neighborhood after dropping off the kids. Today we decided to explore a different residential area, which includes some beautiful homes and picturesque walking paths. One thing I noticed, however, is that no one seems to pick up after their dogs, which might explain why the folks around Market Square didn't welcome canines. 

This is a big change from San Francisco, which favors the other extreme: Not only are there trash cans galore, there are also public dispensers offering free biodegradable “poop” bags. Stores often have water bowls set out for pups, and sometimes offer dog biscuits, too. Plus, dogs are regularly tied outside stores while their “humans” are shopping. That just doesn’t happen here.

After our walk, we decided to browse around the Musuem of Fine Arts. We didn’t have a lot of time, but we did manage to see some great photography and interesting prints, as well as some impressive Native American pottery and kachinas (donated by the Houston philanthropist, Miss Ima Hogg).

There were a couple of pieces that caught my eye, mainly because of the “faux real” nature of them. One was entitled “To Be or To Pretend” by Adrienne Fernandez, one of a series of photographs featuring plastic fruits and fake flowers, which are not only popular around here, but also “a very Cuban design element.”  The other series focused on prints on plastic, “made of organic matter such as petroleum and natural gasses...”

With its huge petroleum and gas industry, I guess Houston has contributed significantly to the manufacturing of plastics, too. What I find most baffling is that plastic was invented in the mid 19^th century—less than 75 years ago—and is now the most used material in the world.

On the way home, we noticed  two Mustangs weaving in and out of traffic. Turns out they were racing. On the busy freeway. In broad daylight. We saw a flashing light a few miles up the road, and wondered if they had been pulled over, but nope. Just a big, red pick-up truck.

Entry #34

Entry #34

Wednesday, January 18

12: 45 p.m. I needed a change of scenery this morning, so I took Izzie for a walk “downtown,” along an area known for its brownstone-style condos. While most houses are landscaped with some sort of shrubbery, one entry was adorned with pots of faux foliage, along with tall vases of faux flowers by the front door. The door itself was decorated with a bear encircled by a wreath adorned with “Bless the Angels” written in gold glitter. I was going to take a quick photo with my iPhone, but then thought better of it in case the occupant of that condo was still there (perhaps enjoying a nice cup of decaf instant coffee with non-dairy creamer and Sweet n’ Low). 

We walked past a (man-made) lake, along the (man-made) waterway, and through another “Texas Townhome” neighborhood. All the while I was looking for a garbage can, but couldn’t find one. Finally, I realized that the low-lying planter box on the corner (sans plant) was indeed a waste receptacle. Whoever designed this area was probably a master at the Highlights “find the hidden objects” game.

4:00 p.m. At pick-up today, things got a bit zany with the pre-school kids and Izzie. Per usual, they ran up to the gate shouting, “Izzie! Izzie!” and proceeded to try to feed her leaves, twigs, and pine cones. She took everything in her mouth (except for the used Kleenex that was offered, thankfully) and accepted it graciously. Then she found a flat brick and carried it proudly between her teeth.

Izzie doesn’t really chew on bricks, but she likes to hold things in her mouth (a Golden Retriever trait, apparently). The kids noticed that she had a “rock” in her mouth, so they started to bring her stones. One child held a large rock above his head, which I told him wasn’t a safe choice; another carried something resembing a small boulder. I know these kids love Izzie, but I should probably clarify that she can’t eat things that are 1) unsanitary (i.e., used Kleenex), 2) undigestible (rocks), or 3) larger than her head (boulders).

10:00 p.m. I just returned from my first InPrint writing workshop. It’s held on a residential street in Houston in a converted house. I was thankful to arrive on time, having driven an hour and a quarter to get there. The teacher is a graduate of the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and is also PhD candidate in Literature and Creative Writing at the University of Houston, so I was prepared to be completely intimidated by him. Turns out he’s seemingly laid-back (seemingly, I say, since I haven’t presented any of my work yet), affable, and has a voice that sounds like Tom Cruise. He also happens to be focusing on “suburban literature” for his dissertation. I’d hardly call Faux Real in Texas “literature,” but it doesn’t get much more suburban than writing about “the second largest planned community in the United States.”

En route to class, I passed a large facility called The Brown Hand Center. This place caught my eye because it made me wonder why it was called “Brown Hand.” A center for brown hands? Is this a place for people of color? It sounded neither politically correct nor particularly sanitary. I looked it up when I got home and discovered that the place is named after a Dr. Michael G. Brown (a white guy, by the way), who pioneered a type of endoscopic surgery for people with carpel tunnel syndrome, now called the Brown Procedure (for people with hands of all pigments). So now I know it's the Brown/Hand Center, as opposed to the Brown Hand/Center.

Entry #33

Entry #33

Saturday, January 14


1:00 p.m. I heard about a law that was passed in Texas yesterday, but couldn’t believe my ears until I read about it, too:

“A federal appeals court cleared the way Friday for the immediate enforcement of a new abortion law in Texas...The new law requires doctors to conduct a sonogram before performing an abortion, to show the woman the image, to play the fetal heartbeat aloud and describe the features of the fetus at least 24 hours before the abortion. The Fifth Circuit Court of Apeals clears the way for the Texas Department of State Health Services to...prosecute doctors who won’t obey it...” —The Wall Street Journal, 1/13/12

4:00 p.m. While taking Izzie for a walk yesterday, I saw a group of boys playing Airsoft. Their black rifles were nearly as long as the kids were tall. Watching them walk through the sparse woods hunting for each other looked like something out of Lord of the Flies. Whatever happened to a friendly game of catch?

Aidan wanted to watch the The Simpsons’ last night, so we watched a few reruns on TV. One of the episodes featured Homer Simpson endorsing the “bowhunting rock guitarist” Ted Nugent for president. In the episode, Nugent arrives at the Simpsons’ backyard with a dead elk, to which Homer’s neighbor, Flanders says something like, “Looks like an eight pointer!” to which Nugent replies, “....and you look like you’re from the People’s Republic of Berkeley!” I’ve heard of life imitating art, but what about an animated series? I seem to be inhabiting a Simpson's episode.

Sunday, January 15

4:00 p.m. After dropping the kids off at their art class, David and I took Izzie for a walk around the museum district. There’s an art garden across the street from the MFA with a permanent outdoor exhibit. The eclectic display includes sculptures that reminds me of a Li'l Abner shoe, the underbelly of a giant mushroom, and Rodin's The Thinker, only rather than looking contemplative, the subject appears to have a headache. It's actually very interesting overall, despite my obvious lack of sophistication in the realm of contemporary art. Perhaps I should get a "walk through" with a real art historian so I won't associate these priceless objets d'art with outdated musicals and fungi. 

David wanted to check out a hotel called Zaza’s, which he’d heard about through work, so we continued our walk in that direction. The hotel's restaurant, the Monarch, welcomed guests with this sign: “Monarch is Stylish, Sensual and Dignified...So Are You. Appropriate Dress Required.” 

How does one act simultaneously sensual and dignified? I think a visual example would be helpful.

In front of the hotel was a shuttle sporting a longhorn skull on its front grill. Izzie didn’t quite know what to make of it. At first she looked at it like it would be something delicious to gnaw upon, but then got a little spooked. I’m sure it would make a great chew toy, though kind of creepy. Pet stores are now selling small pieces of antler as “healthy, long-lasting chew toys” for about $30/pop. Perhaps skulls could be the next big thing...They are rich in calcium, after all.

After class, we drove through the River Oaks neighborhood, which is quite a lovely area overall, though, like the other parts of Houston, can change radically from one street to the next. We passed an array of oddly juxtaposed stores, including the neighboring "Hot Bagels" and "Keg Cowboy," for example. (Perhaps they should merge and be called Bagels & Hops.) Seeing a psychic healer next to a large Irish pub also seemed strange. ("Hold a pint in one hand and get your palm read with the other!") Other notable stores we passed include “Neon Nail” (where you can get your "nail" done),  “1/4 Price Books" (as opposed to 1/2 ), and "Space" (a very small space, actually, that did not appear to sell anything related to astronomy).


Despite the fact that Houston is famous for its no-zoning laws, Rice University does, in fact, offer courses in Urban Planning. Great examples of "dos" and "don'ts" can be found right out the front door.

Tuesday, January 17

11:00 a.m. Noah just told me about an experience Aidan had at the archery range the other day, his first time there. While setting up a shot, Aidan was approached by a gentlemanly black man, who alerted him that before releasing an arrow, he should yell "PUH!" So that's what he did. "Say it louder," instructed the man, so Aidan shouted, “PUUUUH!!!” David kindly whispered to Aidan that the man was actually telling him to say the word “PULL,” but with his Southern accent, it sounded different.

Entry #32

Wednesday, January 11

9:00 a.m. While I’ve become accustomed to putting The Woodlands’ Living magazine directly in the recycling bin (it’s basically one big advertisement for cosmetic enhancements), this one caught my attention due to its sheer absurdity. The cover featured “The Real Housewives of The Woodlands.”

Aidan commented that these women didn’t look real, and asked if the tuxedo-clad “boy” in the photo was “the butler.” Turns out he’s the son of the owner of Body Benefits, a skincare spa on which the advertorial feature is based. He does seem out of place, though he’s clearly wearing a touch of makeup and hairspray, too.

11:00 a.m.: One thing I can say for The Woodlands is that there are a lot of walking paths, which is great. It’s easy to get lost, however, because of the homogeneity of the architecture, so the powers of observation are very important. There are no bright pink houses to guide you (as in San Francisco), or even a Dunkin’ Donuts along the way (a popular landmark in Boston). Just lots of beige homes, big trucks, and wooded trails.


(Spot the typo—win a prize!)

Because the reserve is a mud swamp right now, I decided to take Izzie in a new direction today, which led us to a flock of Muscovy ducks. I remember them wandering around my  grandparents' neighborhood in Florida, but I have yet to see so many of them here. Not the most attractive specimens, but they definitely know how to stand their ground.

There was one duck sitting solo on a guard rail, looking incredibly confident and unafraid of us (that would be me and Izzie, my incredibly intimidating (white, fluffy, smiling) dog. I don’t know how much the duck weighed, but it was definitely the biggest, baddest dude in the flock. Only when Izzie finally came within inches of it did it mutter a few sounds (very likely some cuss words in duck-speak) and fly away. Scared the bejeebers out of Izzie, too. Those are some tough ducks.

Thursday, January 12

9:30 a.m. While the weather is supposed to reach the low 70s this afternoon, it was about 38 degrees this morning. I was cold despite being layered in a shirt, sweater, jacket, etc. and was amazed to see a gaggle of women (continuing the bird theme), all dressed in teeny tennis skirts and cap-sleeved shirts. And they weren’t even playing yet, so I can’t imagine they were remotely warm. Brrrrrrr.

11:00: It’s remarkable how many ads there are for gun sales here. This morning I heard one advertising Collector’s Firearms, a gun “super store.” Turns out there are more than 1,500 places in the Houston area that sell guns (according to Reuters online), with 84 dedicated “gun shops.” In other words, no matter where you go (Wal-Mart, Target, the gas station, Gap kids, candy shop...) you can buy the ammunition you’re seeking.

What’s even more alarming is the increase in firearms sales just this past Christmas. CNN reported that there were 1,534,414  inquiries by gun dealers to the National Instant Criminal Background Check System (NICS), with almost half a million done the six days prior to Christmas. Really changes the meaning of “last minute shopping.”

“Don’t know what to get your loved one this holiday season? Start Christmas with a BANG with our new 38 special, now in an array of seasonal yuletide shades...”

Friday, January 13

9:00 a.m. We woke up to an interesting sight this morning: The pool was steaming. Turns out someone accidentally turned on the spa, resulting in the pool warming to a whopping 95 degrees while the air outside was 31 degrees. Wanna go for a swim? Just beware of getting "hair icicles" when you come out. (Turns out Aidan did take the plunge after all. Gotta give him credit for making the most of the pool, unlike my wimpy self.)

Noah got a kick out of a bumper sticker he saw on the way to school: “Don’t sweat the petty things and don’t pet the sweaty things.” Little did I know (until just now) that this is a George Carlin quote. It was a refreshing change from the ones see on a daily basis, including: "Don't mess with Texas," "I wasn't born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could!," "You may all go to hell and I will go to Texas (Davy Crockett)," "Texas Proud," "God Bless Texas," and last but not least, "I'm from Texas. What country are you from?"