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?"