Entry #50

Entry #50

Wednesday, March 21

Noon: A friend of mine from Berkeley called to say she was reading the New York Times and thought of me while reading an article entitled, “In Texas Tradition, Museums That Enshrine the Quirky.” I’ve learned about the array of eclectic museums in Houston (like the National Museum of Funeral History, the Doc Porter Museum of Telephone History and Art Car Museum), but hadn’t heard about the ones listed here.

In McLean, Texas, you can visit the Devil’s Rope Museum, “a sprawling tribute to the history of barbed wire and fencing tools.” There’s the Eight Track Museum in Dallas, the Cockroach Hall of Fame Museum in Plano and Barney Smith’s Toilet Seat Art Museum in San Antonio. Waco has a Dr. Pepper Museum, while Huntsville is host to the Texas Prison Museum. Sounds like a real hoot.

I happened upon an article (while reading the San Francisco Chronicle online) about two kids, a five-year-old boy and 11-year-old girl, who live just 24 miles away from here in a town called Splendora (not to be confused with the artificial sweetener, Splenda). Both their parents are in prison, and the kids were found living in an abandoned school bus. How odd that I didn't see this news in the local paper, but maybe I missed it...

The parents reported back from federal prison, claiming they would be back soon to take care of their kids. “I’m coming home in 30 days to take care of my kids,” the mother said. And in the meanwhile...?


The children seemed to be living like animals. The 11-year-old girl didn’t even know how to sign her name. The father, however, claimed that she was being home schooled through a Texas Tech University program, was highly intelligent, and “can even do tax returns.”


It's tragic that there are two kids living in squalor only 30 minutes away from The Woodlands, a highly privileged community with countless amenities. Where's the justice in that? Sounds like the siblings will get help now, though hopefully not at the cost of being separated.

11:00 p.m. Today’s theme seems to be news, because I was struck by another piece of reporting on the way home from writing class. The show was called “Vegan World” and is based in Houston. Tonight’s show featured a doctor named Linda Carney, which I thought was pretty funny, considering the fact that the Latin root of carn is “flesh,” as in carnivore, chili con carne...


I listened to Dr. Carney discuss the benefits of a vegan diet as I drove on the the 45N freeway towards home, passing billboards for Nolan Ryan’s steak, Red Robin hamburgers, Furr Restaurant (I'm assuming they serve animals that once had fur or rather, furr), and a celebration of crawfish season at HEB.

Only two people called to ask questions, one of whom asked about feeding pets a vegan diet. “I’ll have to defer to veterinarians,” said Dr. Carney, adding, “But I have heard about pets having success with them.” 


Do dogs' and cats' teeth and claws look like they’re meant for plucking berries and legumes? The radio host alluded to a “charming story” about a lion who was fed a vegan diet. I used to watch Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom and not once did I see a lion even sniff at anything resembling a vegetable.

Thursday, March 22

9:30 a.m. I met with the seventh grader who’s writing a comic book about the “unblessed man.” Turns out he’s made some amazing progress. This kid can really illustrate! He decided to call his comic “The Edge” and his superhero Templar (as in temple).

“Templar's from Chicago and there’s an ocean there, right?” he asked. I told him it was actually not an ocean, but one of the Great Lakes, namely Lake Michigan. “That’s a lake?” he said in surprise. “Yeah, it’s really big, but it’s all fresh water,” I explained. 


Sam told me he envisions his superhero walking out of the lake “with big waves” (I didn’t tell him lakes don’t really get huge waves, more like swells) to symbolize a baptism. Templar’s mask is white, with a large red cross. So here I am, a nice Jewish gal, giving feedback about an evangelical Christian comic book. If he only knew...

11:00 a.m. A friend asked if I’d like to accompany her to a yoga class at one of two studios in The Woodlands, so I looked them up. The home page of The Yoga Studio of The Woodlands opens with the following paragraph (including multiple typos and random capitalization):

“Yoga Is the Art & Science of cultivating the Love of God. None of us are responsible for being here on planet earth as human beings. The Laws of Nature have placed us here. This Life is a gift. It is a Golden Opportunity to cultivate the Love of God. Everyday we make choices. The Highest purpose of human life is to cultivate the Love of God.”

On the site, the owner of the studio features a variety of photos of himself in various advanced yoga poses. He’s probably in his early 60s, and with his silver handlebar mustache looks like he should be wearing a cowboy hat and Wranglers instead of the black Speedo-like thing he’s got on. Still, he’s obviously in good health—and yes, he’s mighty flexible, too.

Why can’t I just find a low-key yoga place without allusions to Love of God and photos of tanned old cowboys in Speedos? Could I ignore it and try a class anyhow? Possibly. Would I rather cultivate my Love of Dog and stretch at home instead? Probably, yes.

Friday, March 23

11:30 a.m. David and I went to see Friends with Kids last night. While The Woodlands’ Town Center is bustling on Saturday nights, it’s completely dead on Thursdays. There was only one other couple other than us in the theater.

There was, however, a long line for the new Hunger Games film showing at 12:05 a.m. Kids had been lined up since before six p.m. for an after-midnight showing. Many of the kids (mostly girls) were wearing pajamas, with blankets in tow. Noah really wanted to see that show, but it was already sold out.

Noah’s friend told him that even if tickets were sold out, that they could buy tickets to another movie and just sneak in. Little did he know that the theater hired a really big guy at a second ticket-checking area just to make sure no one snuck in. Guess other kids had the same idea. We’ll try to see the Hunger Games on Saturday morning if we can get in. Let the mania begin...

After the movie, we took a walk around the area, Market Square. This pedestrian-oriented area looks like a stage set, with coordinated window displays, a sprinkling of people dining outside, completely empty sidewalks (except for us—perhaps we're "extras"?). 


David took me into a newly renovated hotel there and it, too, felt as contrived as its neighboring retail store. (I did think the chandelier was cool, though, a waterfall of crystals on clear string.) In the spirit of The Woodlands, there were tree trunks lined in a row, with a forest scene wallpapered in the background.

Just around the corner, we walked through a breezeway where there were three tiled art pieces hanging along the wall: a teenager wearing a Miss Popularity banner, a rugged cowboy and a chic woman with a fur coat draped across her arm. I’d say this pretty much sums up the aspired image of The Woodlands. 

12:30 p.m. Today’s Villager featured a couple of tidbits worth mentioning. The first article, “Stolen deer statues may be replaced” made front-page news. “One leg and a partial hoof were all that remained of the deer...Two deer remain at the intersection, while another entire deer was taken away from its heard.” For one thing, what is someone going to do with a three legged, two-footed bronze deer? For another, how could someone get away with spelling the word herd wrong in the heart of cowboy country?

The second article featured Becky Owen, aka “Becky Booty,” a 45-year-old mother of three and founding member of the Houston Roller Derby.

“It seems as though women all across the region were offered the same words of sage southern advice by well-intended grandmothers: ‘If you want to succeed in life, keep your mouth shut and wear beige,’ we were told...Today thing are an eensy weensy bit different for many southern women, and there may be no better example of that than the women of the Houston Roller Derby...”

Like Becky Owen, her teammates each have “warrior-woman” skater names, including Beverly Kills, Tawdry Hepburn, Patsy Crime and Kelly Rippanippleoff. “While what we wear on the track today might be short-shorts and fishnet hose, make no mistake, we are athletes first,” said Ms. Owen. Seems she’s come a long way from beige coordinates.