Entry #39

Entry #39

Monday, February 6

10:00 a.m. I caused an avalanche at the market today. A small one, but there was definitely some downhill rolling involved. This isn’t the first time I’ve picked up a piece of fruit, only to have the entire display begin collapsing on itself, but this time the apples were barely stacked. I can well understand if there’s a huge mountain of fruit and a person wants one from the bottom, but all I did was pick up an apple from a small groundswell (not even a hill), and yet they came a rollin’. Luckily I stopped them before they plunked to the ground. Didn’t quite look as cool as Robert Pattinson’s Twilight scoop-up-the-apple-on-the-shoe trick, but truth be told, that thing was on a wire.

Shortly following my apple fiasco, I went to get some almond butter from the grinding machine and pulled out the drawer holding the flimsy plastic containers, causing them to fly out of their compartment. What’s with me today? I could be the Butterfinger poster girl...Definitely not a good day to take up sword fighting or brain surgery.

I finally found the whereabouts of the public library and got an official card, as well as a book for Aidan (which, to my amazement, was actually on the shelves!). The main floor has a huge room comprised entirely of children’s books, which I love. I wandered aimlessly there for a few minutes realizing both my kids are now too old to spend time in the children’s area of the library. Feels like we were just there, reading piles of picture books aloud. I really miss that. Guess I'll just have to pull up a bean bag chair and read to myself, or borrow a preschooler every now and then.

Aidan's rarin' and ready to wrangle those preschoolers, too, in the role of babysitter. Now that he's taken his Red Cross course, he wants to start working! I made him a business card, about which he's pretty stoked. Perhaps he'll need to begin as a "mother's helper," since he's only 11 (remember that term?). For his card, I used this photo of Aidan and his cousin, Abby, taken many moons ago.

Noah saw Daniel Radcliffe’s newest film last weekend, The Woman in Black. He was supposed to see Chronicle with his friends, but it was sold out, so he felt obligated to follow suit and see this PG-13-rated horror film, much to his dismay.

We’d watched the trailer the day before, which scared the bejeebers out of all of us. Noah decided he definitely did NOT want to see this movie. Little did he know he would be watching it the following day. He did not sleep by himself that night, needless to say. I don't imagine he will ever look at cymbal-clapping monkeys or porcelain dolls every the same way again.

Tuesday, February 7

9:00 a.m. David went running early this morning, then picked up some freshly roasted coffee at the Dosey Doe, a coffee house/restaurant/local music venue, along with their breakfast menu and list of upcoming events.

Here you can enjoy chicken fried steak, Scotch egg empanadas, honey-cured “pit” ham, or Bulgarian buttermilk pancakes in the a.m., then return after dark for some live country music! Good thing they give patrons several hours to digest their food. Ever try swinging your partner 'round and 'round on a belly full of sausage and gravy biscuits?

Wednesday, February 8

10:00 a.m. En route to school today I saw a bumper sticker that said “got bagpipes?” That’s a new one. Lots of folks from the U.K. around here.

The federal appeals court declared California’s same-sex marriage ban unconstitutional, warranting some dubious protests and counter protests, like the image featured below. All in all, there was plenty of celebrating in the San Francisco Bay area. Not quite the same sentiment is shared in The Woodlands, however.

On the radio this morning, the hosts discussed the fact that this winter has been the warmest on record in the USA, yet they still deny the existence of what they call “man-made” global warming. “You’re gonna blame global warming on my SUV?” one said. I’ve seen enough cars idling here to burst the ozone layer single-handedly, and yet they assert that “college professors and politicians” are feeding us a pile of hooey.

 Thursday, February 9

9:00 a.m. Before school today, I met with a classmate of Noah’s who’s working on a comic book project. I said I’d help him with the writing part, since each student is paired with a potentially helpful parent.

What took me by surprise was not this student's impressive illustration skills, or even how animated he was while chatting with me, but rather his description of the comic book’s super hero. The protagonist is invincible, yet he dwells in darkness because he is “not blessed.” 

"What do you mean, 'not blessed'?" I asked. "Well, he doesn't go to church," he said. "He's not blessed because he doesn't go to church?" "Well, no," he said, “He's not blessed because he wasn’t baptized by Jesus.” 

It's rather ironic that I, the only Jewish parent in the class, happen to be the person selected to work with this devout young man. Should be an interesting ride...

I’m working with another student as well. Her goal is to be a vegetarian until the end of the school year. We’ve had one brief meeting so far, during which time I learned that she’s craving meat. The only vegetables she likes to eat are cucumbers and tomatoes. So far, not exactly an expansive repetoire. 

I sent her a list of vegetables and fruit, asking her to let me know which ones she really likes, which ones she’s willing to try, and which ones she won't. It'll be interesting to see how she reacts to sampling "vegetarian foods from around the globe." I wonder if she'll let me take photos of her expressions as she tastes foods she's never eaten before.

Entry #38

Entry #38

Monday, January 30

9:00 a.m. Aidan’s home sick with some sort of bronchial virus. Bummer. It’s the start of a “new unit” at school, which means he’ll be missing a whole lot more than basically any other day this month. Ergh. “Karma can be a jerk,” said Noah, regarding this unfortunate timing.

The other day Noah said, “People tend to stretch the fish,” while talking about folks expanding the truth. He’s come up with some good ones lately.

4:00 p.m. After getting bullied by the dog park pups, I took Izzie for a special “play day” at the Texas Dog House. For $15, she can romp with friendly, well-socialized dogs all day, under the watch of the friendly owners, Heather and David.

Upon picking Izzie up, she was so excited to see us, she didn’t wait for the gate to open, but rather leapt up onto the desk, over the counter, and was about to jump about four feet down until Heather grabbed her and led her through the open gate. My dog can fly! I think agility training might be in order.

Thursday, February 2

11:00 a.m. Noah was peeved at a local review of The Hunger Games, a book he really enjoyed. The journalist began his review with the word “Meh.” When I first started seeing this word in print, I thought it was was descriptive and funny, but it’s become so overused, it seems to have turned on itself; the word “meh” has become just meh.

The food critic in this paper talked about how much she enjoyed her trip to Sonoma County, CA, which was interesting, considering the fact that it’s a Houston-based paper. Apparently she stayed at The Occidental Inn and really enjoyed their “orange cream French toast.” She then transitioned to a local restaurant in the River Oaks area of Houston, raving about their French toast as well. Seems tasty French toast (which isn’t really French at all) unites the Lone Star and Sunshine states. A toast to toast—delicious no matter where you roam!

Steak, however, is another story. Beef is as integral to Texas’ identity as cowboy boots and Stetson hats. As the Texas Beef Council’s homepage (entitled, “The Beef Story”) explains, “Raising cattle isn’t just a business, it is a way of life and a livelihood for the more than 135,000 beef ranchers in Texas.”

We heard this message loud and clear on a local commercial yesterday evening. It began with a tough-looking cowboy staring into the camera and drawling, “In Texas, we don’t take too kindly to anyone messing with our steaks.” Turned out to be an ad for the HEB grocery chain. Seems cowboys aren’t beyond getting their steaks packaged in cellophane. I thought if they were real cowboys, they’d just slice ‘em off the cow (the fresher, the better).

9:00 p.m. I opened the door to let Izzie out back and saw a cute little lizard scurry up the wall. While looking up, I also noticed an odd shape in the doorway. Turns out another lizard must’ve got caught in the upper corner some weeks ago (or more). It was completely in tact, but flat and dehydrated. It was an odd sensation to peel away a critter from the door frame. (Of course, after taking a closer look, I freaked myself out and flung the poor thing in the bushes. Not the most dignified burial.)

Friday, February 3

9:30 a.m. After taking Izzie for a walk along the waterway this morning, I stopped into Hubbell & Hudson for a few quick groceries. Waiting at the café was a woman in a long, neon blue wig, red platform pumps, and a white vintage floral dress. Needless to say, she didn’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen in Texas.

While waiting to get a latté, she stood next to me, soaring well over 6’ tall. I told her she looked “striking.” She said that she was doing a cooking blog and was videotaping it there and was surprised that more people weren’t staring at her.

She confessed she was wearing a “Katy Perry” wig. It actually looked really good on her, with her blue eyes and all. I really enjoyed watching people attempting to look like they weren’t looking.

 Saturday, February 4

11:00 a.m. Noah got a text from a friend back in San Francisco, telling him that he saw pick-up truck with the following bumper sticker: “Vegetarian is an old indian word meaning ‘bad hunter.’” He liked this so much, he had me order a t-shirt with this saying. It'll be interesting to see how people respond to it around here.

6:00 p.m. We just enjoyed a dinner that definitely required more gathering than hunting. The Lucky Café has become a new favorite restaurant, especially for Noah, since tofu dishes abound, as well as fried rice noodles, with plenty o’ veggies, including those tiny corn-on-the-cobs. Plus, it’s really cheap—about $6.45/entrée. No décor to speak of, but the grub is decent, especially if you like consuming foods that are foraged (then pressed into blocks, cut into cubes, fried, and smothered in various Vietnamese sauces).

I wonder about those mini-corns. Have you ever seen them in the fresh produce section? I sure haven't. How are they grown? In teeny corn fields? I've never really thought about this Lilliputian vegetable, but now I'm curious.

Sunday, February 5

8:00 p.m. Can you tell I’m not watching the Super Bowl? I did watch the half-time show though. Aidan couldn’t believe Madonna was 50 (she’s actually 53). “She looks like she’s 35 and acts like she’s 20,” remarked Aidan, after seeing her performance.

How many 50-year-olds, after all, wear fishnet stockings, can dance and sing without getting winded, and can do a backbend (not to mention, have absolutely no wrinkles or sagging skin)? Seems she defies both age and gravity. I want somma dat.

Yesterday, while watching Fried Green Tomatoes, Aidan commented that “in the old days, people had real problems. These days, people just worry about their looks and weight.” Interesting commentary. Then again, Kathy Bates, the “modern-day” character in the film, was indeed focusing on her thankless marriage and emotional eating, while Jessica Tandy’s character lost a brother, fought for women’s rights and desegretation, and rescued her friend from an abusive spouse. In this regard, Aidan does have a point.

While Noah and Aidan were at their Sunday afternoon art class, David and I returned to the Houston MFA. The place spans across three buildings, so we have a lot of ground to cover. It’s actually a good thing we only have an hour-and-a-half each visit, because it means we can take in a section of the museum each time without getting overwhelmed.

Today we browsed the ground floor, walking through an exhibit that featured Czech glass, as well as some really bizarre artists whose artwork was intended to freak out the observer. I was glad there was some beautiful art glass there to get my mind off the severed heads, creepy skeletons,  and swollen genitalia.

We climbed about 100 stairs to reach the Impressionist section, which was truly impressive, and good exercise, too! I always love looking as close as I possibly can to art pieces (without getting in trouble by the hawkish security guards), imagining the artist painting that piece, deciding on the texture, the colors, and the moment in which they declare their piece fini.

After observing the meticulous realism of the Dutch Masters, I could really appreciate how radical artists like Picasso were, how some of his later pieces might’ve not even been considered “real art” at the time, with messy, unfinished lines, unevenly textured paint and empty spaces. How times have changed...

Entry #37

Entry #37

10:00 a.m. It’s all too easy to adhere to that “halo effect,” where your first impression of a person is the one that sticks. But you never really know someone  until you learn about their family, their history. Case in point: There’s a woman in my writing class who’s from Dallas originally, lived in Chicago for a spell, and now is back in Houston. Nothing that remarkable, or so I thought.

Little did I know until we got into conversation that her first relative to arrive in American (sometime in the 1600s) left Scotland because he didn’t want to wait until someone died for his inheritance and instead decided to become a pirate! His ship’s insignia was a hawk, so the family’s last name became Hawkins. He settled in the mountains of Tennessee, and married a native American, as did many of their relatives, so she has a variety of “tribes” in her ancestry, too.

I then asked her how her family arrived in Texas. Her great-great-great..? grandmother came here in a covered wagon. In fact, she still has her grandmother's hope chest, with her maiden name written on one side (Hawkins) and her married name written on another (also Hawkins, which makes me wonder, but I didn’t ask). Like I said, you really never know a person until you learn from whence they came.

12:00 p.m.: The local HEB (and I assume, most HEBs) have central “stations” where people wearing hands-free microphones jabber on about whatever foods they’re preparing, offering tasting samples and then, of course, let you know where to buy the ingredients. Today, however, was a bit different. Rather than simply explain what she was doing (something involving bacon), the woman started talking about her childhood in Pennsylvania—out loud, to no one in particular.

She just rambled on and on about walking through the woods, hiking around, being a kid there, etc. Somehow she weaved the bacon ingredient back in, but I didn’t quite catch the transition.

A couple minutes later someone did, in fact, accept a sample of something, and she directed that person as to where to purchase the tasty treat. I think I’d start talking to the shelves, too, if I were required to speak into a public microphone for hours on end.

Friday, January 27

10:00 a.m. I thought Izzie might enjoy a good, hearty romp at the Cattail Dog Park today, only she was bullied by two nasty Vislas just minutes after we arrived. I had to hover over Izzie, shoo the dogs away, and yell for the owner to get her dogs, even though she was standing less than two feet away. Humans can be really lame sometimes.

Even though it’s sunny outside, the nearby reserve is still a swamp pit, so that option’s out, at least for the next few days. It’s just not all that exciting for Izzie to walk along the sidewalks without any social interaction...Perhaps it’s a good thing Aidan still acts like a puppy.

We received The Woodlands Villager today. Among the headlines are: “Fat Head Up for Adoption” (the Pet of the Week, a dubiously named black Chow mix) and “Picky Nine-Year-Old Quite Pleased with Hoggs n’ Chicks” (a Missouri City, TX restaurant). 

I was surprised to see a boy wearing a yarmulke under a feature highlighting the “Christian Youth Theater.” Evidently, they’re doing Fiddler on the Roof, a play “about a father trying to parent his daughters and balance traditions with a modern time.” I’ve never heard this play described quite this way.

3:30 p.m. I took a shortcut through the shopping area en route home and saw a woman walking out of the grocery store with an armfull of goods. I was impressed that she chose to carry this pile of groceries instead of using multiple plastic bags. On closer inspection, however, I noticed that she was carrying multiple cartons of cigarettes.

Saturday, January 28

9:00 a.m. David just returned from taking Izzie for a walk to report, “It snowed in The Woodlands!” Upon walking past the construction area where Trader Joe’s is being built, the overhang was being shaped and shaved, creating the appearance of snow flurries. We’ve since learned that the stucco detailing on these buildings is actually made of styrofoam, finished with a thin layer of stucco.

We’re off to San Antonio this morning, continuing our “tour de Texas.” It’ll be good to get out of dodge for a couple days, perhaps see some buildings constructed of natural materials.

11:00 a.m. I’ve been in Texas less than half a year, yet am already conditioned. Upon glancing at a billboard, I assumed it said, “Real Beef,” until registering that it said “Red Roof.” I think I’m going to wear my glasses more often from now on. Beef billboards abound...

4:00 p.m. The drive to San Antonio was less than picturesque, though there were a few ranches here and there throughout our very flat, dusty drive. David spotted the Roadside Quail Farm, offering “live and frozen birds.” An advertisement for the German town of New Braunfels read, “Willkoman Y’all!” A billboard for Bucky’s grocery read “Beaver Nugget Capital of Texas, 61 Miles.” There were also signs for “Joel’s BBQ-Rhinestone Angels,” “Frank’s Hog Stand,” “Grumpy’s Motor Inn,” and “Shiner Beer.”

The town of Flatonia was true to form—very flat. Otherwise, not much to see (as far as we could tell).

5:00 p.m. After parking our stuff at the Drury Hotel (renamed Dreary for its rather drab ambiance), we walked outside and decided to meander along the River Walk, then make our way to the Alamo.

Along the way, we saw a striking canopy of branches, which I thought was very cool, only to discover it was made of concrete. Bah. There were some real ducks, though, which kept Izzie interested. With no guard rails whatsoever, we had to make sure she didn’t fall in. 

We found our way up the stairs and made our way to The Alamo, known as a “shrine of Texas liberty:” “While the facts surrounding the siege of the Alamo continue to be debated, there is no doubt about what the battle has come to symbolize...a place where men made the ultimate sacrifice for freedom.” 

Whether or not Davy Crockett perished during the final bloodbath also remains a source of debate. One thing that's for certain? Kids still love his coonskin cap, available in every imaginable size at the Alamo gift shop. Some things never go out of style...

What’s happened to this place, however, is similar to the fate of other no-zoning territories in Texas—it’s been built up in a hodpodge-kind of way. The Alamo itself is well-preserved, with lovely grounds, expansive trees, and historical integrity. Across the street, however are two tacky tourist museums—Ripley’s Believe It or Not and Ripley’s Haunted Adventure—not exactly a tribute to this monument of Texas.

Upon returning from our brief tour around the Alamo, I started chatting with a man who was petting Izzie. Turns out he lives in Houston, but his daughter and son-in-law live in San Francisco.

When I told them we had lived near Dolores Park, they told me how much they liked Bi-Rite, a family owned market and creamery in that area. Never would I have anticipated I’d be talking about a San Francisco grocery store while sitting in front of the Alamo.

The kids were famished after our historical excursion, having had only munchies en route to San Antonio, so we figured we would go out for an early dinner. We headed back to the hotel to relax for a few minutes and find a place that offered vegetarian options for Noah.

Noah heard there was a Chuy’s in San Antonio, and was very excited to go there. Little did we know until I did a Google search that Chuy’s wasn’t actually in town, but rather 15 miles away in the outskirts of San Antonio, i.e., the suburbs.

“I just drove three and a half hours, only to be back where we started!” moaned David, looking around at the area near Chuy’s. It looked eerily similar to our Anywhere, USA township, the very place we were trying to escape, if only for the weekend. David wasn’t too pleased about this, though the kids were completely psyched to eat their queso-slathered, foot-long burritos. From thereon in, we were determined to stay in San Antonio proper.

Sunday, January 29

9:00 a.m. As we waited for the elevator, two kids, obviously siblings, were bickering over who was going to push the suitcase cart. One was dressed in a doctor’s outfit; the other, in army camouflage. “Do you want to be a doctor when you grow up?” I asked the girl. “No she wants to be a dentist,” answered her brother. “What about you? You want to be in the military?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said, “I want to be a sniper in the Marines or Army.”

3:00 p.m. Seems everywhere we went, we ran into people with some sort of geographic connection. At the Blue Star brewery, the bartender told us his brother lived in Pacific Heights (in San Francisco). Across the way, we stopped in an art gallery and learned that the owner grew up in Houston and attended the Kincaid School, where John Cooper was the head master (the John Cooper school, modeled after the Kincaid School, is walking distance from our house). His parents live about five minutes away. Small, small world.

The place in San Antonio we enjoyed most of all was the historic district. The architecture was impressive, and the kids loved the fact that they could throw a football in the streets, since there was virtually no traffic. Plus, it was fun to imagine living in these gracious homes—built with amazing craftsmanship—no styrofoam anywhere to be found!

On the way home, we stopped at the Gruene (pronounced “Green”) Historic District in New Braunfels, an area originally settled by German immigrants. Turns out the Gruene Hall is “the oldest, continually operating dance hall in the state of Texas...” The walls are plastered with autographed photos of everyone from Bo Didley, The Dixie Chicks, Jerry Lee Lewis, Willie Nelson, and Lyle Lovett (who looks about 15 in his head shot—he apparently got his start here). The place was hopping, even on a Sunday afternoon, with a rollicking country band.

The adjacent restaurant was originally a cotton gin; the pottery studio is a converted barn. In the summer, people come from all over to go “toobin” (i.e., tubing) down the long, lazy river. Now that’s my kind of sport.