Entry #31

Entry #31

Saturday, January 7

7:30 p.m. We’ve decided that it would be a good idea for the kids to start cooking meals with us, and Noah's first suggestion was homemade pizza. He got as far as pouring the yeast into warm water, then ended up talking to a friend for more than an hour. Guess who ended up learning how to make pizza dough?

David and Aidan didn’t get home until nearly 7:00 p.m., since they went to the archery range, something that David promised Aidan since he purchased a bow with gift money from his uncle. (Aidan likes to point out that he does NOT want to hunt; he just likes aiming at targets, most of which he’s drawn on a large cardboard box.) 


David told Noah he should come with them the next time, forewarning that the store/office was decorated with taxidermy. Before Noah had a chance to respond, Aidan said, “There are trophy heads on every wall in every place in Texas, so get used to it.”

Sunday, January 8

7:00 p.m. We ventured to Houston today, taking the kids to their first art class at The Glassell Junior School, an affiliate of the Houston Museum of Fine Arts. While they were at class, David, Izzie and I walked around the Museum District.

What’s really unusual about this area, and Houston in general, is that the layout of this sprawling metropolis is completely unpredictable. While most museum areas are strictly public spheres, in Houston there are two enormous private residences just across the street from the MFA, one of which has a topiary “herd” of longhorn bulls displayed in the manicured front yard. (The bull’s balls are big enough to see clearly from the sidewalk.) Sidestreets are all residential, too, with lots of sprawling yards and gracious homes.

After class, we drove through an area called The Heights, and were pleasantly surprised to see an array of charming Victorians, bungalows, Craftsman homes, and interesting contemporary ones, too. We also drove by some esoteric museums, including a Dali-esque “art car” museum and a telephone museum. (I imagined the displays there getting smaller and smaller and smaller...)

Before crossing the railroad tracks, we got stopped by a seemingly endless train, so we parked and went in a place called “Heights Station,” which looked potentially interesting. The entry featured the usual tired furniture and trinkets, but the back of the store was chock-filled with an array of entertaining (and wildly overpriced) memorabilia.

There were countless signed autographs by musicians, entertainers, and athletes, Southern artifacts, a vertiable Elvis shrine, and a surprising amount of Grateful Dead memorabilia, including a guitar pick signed by Jerry Garcia. I had no idea that John Travolta recorded his own album, nor that an sloppily autographed magazine cover of George Lopez could fetch $99 (or at least be priced this high).

I can understand that the Frank Sinatra/Sammy David Jr./Liza Minelli ticket might be valuable, since two of the three are now-deceased legends, but George Lopez?

What surprised me most were the ebony-glazed Aunt Jemima and Uncle Mose salt and pepper shakers, asking $199 for the pair. I guess they can be viewed as historic artifacts or purely offensive. Take your pick.

We quickly learned the meaning of “the wrong side of the tracks” once the world’s longest train finally departed. Within minutes, the area changed from charming to downtrodden. Now I understand how the guy who sold David his car said he lived “near” The Heights. It was close in distance, but otherwise, a complete world away.

Monday, January 9

11:00 a.m. For the first time since last night, the rain is finally starting to abate. I think Texas might be heading out of the drought if this keeps up. I’ve never seen so much water pour down for so many hours on end, with nonstop lightning and thunder. Aidan asked if school was going to be canceled because it was so dark and wet. I grew up having the occasional “snow” day, but never a “rain” day. The only time schools shut down here is when they have ice storms, which I have yet to see.

4:00 p.m. To keep the kids upbeat at the beginning of the school week, I told them we’d have “Ice Cream Monday” on Mondays (as opposed to sundaes on Sundays, I guess). We usually end up going to one of the frozen yogurt places around here. Today, the kids wanted to go to Orange Leaf, mainly because they like tasting as many samples as possible then serving themselves in cauldron-size cups. Aidan also likes the fact that they have mochi bits there (a type of Japanese dessert made with sweet rice flour).

The yogurt store is adjacent to a tanning salon. I happened to look into the salon as we passed and noticed that the very bored-looking receptionist talking on her cell phone was a distinctive shade of orange. It’s good to take advantage of employee discounts, but there comes a time to draw the line...

Tuesday, January 10

9:30 a.m. While driving the kids to school, someone was trailing me a bit too closely. I said something like, “I wish people would stop driving up my rear,” to which Noah retorted, “Seems like you need a ‘back horn.’” Now that would be a great invention!

It’s cold and gray and overcast today, a far cry from the balmy weather we had last week. I wore my duck boots for the first time in awhile and really appreciated the fact that I could walk through deep puddles with Izzie and still have dry feet. However, I realized that between my down vest, turtleneck and duck boots, I might as well be wearing a sign that says, “I'm not from around here" (or "Damn Yankee," more aptly). Perhaps I should bedazzle my vest.

Entry #30

Entry #30

Tuesday, January 3

10:00 a.m. On the radio this morning, the hosts at 93.7 FM were in prime form. I turned it on just in time to hear them say that Obama’s "people" have recommended that listeners ban this radio station. I now understand why. The hosts talk about Obama as though he's the reason for the war and economic crisis, as well as whatever else is wrong with the world. Amazing how quickly Texans forget that it's their own homeboy who inspired this whole shebang. Regardless, it's quite a shame that the U.S. is so incredibly polarized these days—certainly doesn't help anyone in the long-term. So much for the word "United" among the North American states...

I can only listen to 93.7 in fits and spurts, but Kenneth (the host who sounds like Minnie Pearl) is pretty funny. This morning he said he believes that bible stories like Noah’s Ark are just “sweet little tales” that you can’t take literally, which appalled his fellow hosts. “Do you really think that one man was able to take a pair of animals from Asia, another from Africa, two from North American, two from Antarctica...and build an ark?” 

One of the hosts asked Kenneth how he will explain this act of blasphemy when he “meets his Maker.” They were serious, too (as were many listeners who called in to remark upon this), which made this discussion all the more absurd.

1:00 a.m. One benefit of making a wrong turn while driving around The Woodlands is that you might end up discovering an interesting new street name. Today’s wayward adventure led me past “Lazy Lane.” The other day, we saw a road called "Barkdull." I have yet to see "Apathy Ave." or "Get-Off-Your-Ass Blvd.," but you never know. The woman who named all these streets might've lost it toward the end...

Thursday, January 5

8:00 a.m. The front page of this week’s Villager featured a photograph of an infant, with the headline “Shepherd woman gives birth to first South County baby in 2012.” Both David and I did a double take. Little did we know (until we read the article) that Shepherd is the name of a town in South Montgomery County. We’re evidently still in yuletide mode.

Friday, January 6

11:00 a.m. I spoke with a co-founder of H2ecO, a company that delivers purified water because the water here tastes awful, even when poured through a Brita filter. When I spoke to the salesperson, he said that he won’t let his kids drink the tap water here because there are trace levels (labeled “acceptable” by the FDA) of arsenic and barium,"though not enough to glow."

I thought perhaps this guy was pulling my leg, or just trying to get sales, so I did some research, and there are a surprising number of articles supporting these facts. Yikes. Good thing we’re getting some jugs delivered soon.

3:30 p.m. Izzie has become something of a celebrity at the kids’ school, at least among the little kids who flock to her like she’s a farm animal and try to feed her leaves. I told the kids she prefers pine cones, which inspired them to scatter like they were on a treasure hunt, picking up as many pine cones as they could. One kid brought back a bucket of them. Izzie gently accepted her bounty of gifts and crunched on them like popcorn balls. When we left, it looked like she'd created a small pile of mulch.

There’s one girl who always calls our dog “Itchy.” Seems the other kids have followed suit. Noah commented that all we need now is another dog named “Scratchy,” and we’ll be all set.

Saturday, January 7

10:00 a.m. David took Aidan to a babysitting course today that runs from 9:30 until 3:30, so he can earn an official certificate (sponsored by Red Cross, I believe). Both kids initially wanted to take this class, and Noah’s more qualified to babysit now that he’s 14, but he opted out. Was it the fact that he would have to bring a “baby doll” to class (to learn how to diaper, administer first aid, etc.)? Or maybe he's just a low-key teenager who's not crazy about the idea of entertaining Energizer Bunnies for hours on end. Aidan was still keen on taking the class, even after his big brother cancelled, which really says something about how much he loves kids.

Noah got up around 10:00 a.m. this morning, and brought me two pairs of jeans: one had a tear all the way up the butt, apparently a casualty of a football game; the other he said were too baggy and short. So, I have now inherited my first pair of hand-me-down jeans from my SON.

In this morning’s Huffington Post, there was an article about a robbery at a beauty store in Texas that involved not only clearing out the cash register, but also stealing hair extensions:

A man robbed Main Beauty Supply in Dallas this week at gunpoint, demanding all the cash in the register—and a little something extra...The perpetrator..had her surrender all the money in the register, including the change, which he said he needed because he had kids. Then, the thief tossed in a stranger request: he demanded the hair extensions behind the counter.Jackson says the man explained: he needed the best ones for his girlfriend....The demand might sound silly, but hairpieces typically aren't cheap: premium hair extensions can cost upwards of $200 per piece. And surprisingly, this isn't the first hair extension thief on record this year: back in September, four men robbed a Georgia beauty store of an astonishing $100,000 in packages of hair. In May, another Texas hair heist occurred when someone stole over $120,000 in wigs and extensions from a Houston boutique.

Southern gals apparently take their coifs very seriously, and will go to extreme measures to make their hair look as full and flowing as possible (or at least hire their boyfriends to get the best supplies for them). As I write, I'm wearing my semi-damp hair in an unkempt bun...

Entry #29

Entry #29

Sunday, January 1

Happy New Year! We disembarked the plane about a half hour before midnight and drove back to The Woodlands just in time to see fireworks exploding from both sides of the highway. Not just rinky-dink fireworks either—some were show-stopping, light-up-the-sky varietals. Seems that explosives of any kind are here for the taking, where you can legally shoot-‘em-up, light-‘em-up, and even blow-‘em-up. There’s no mistaking that we’re back in Texas.

Having spent the last two weeks in Berkeley and San Francisco, I can now safely say that the Bay Area is as different from Houston as two places can be. I think I was beginning to forget, having lived in Texas now for a whopping four months. (According to Noah, time moves more slowly here, so four months in The Woodlands is equivalent to at least a year spent outside “The Bubble.”)

What struck me most of all is that the Bay Area still felt like home. It seemed like we simply picked up where we'd left off, which was reassuring.

While we weren’t able to see everyone that we would’ve liked to, we did manage to touch base with several longtime friends and relatives, both in the Bay Area and Southern California. These get-togethers were a gentle reminder that more than anything, it’s the people who make a place.

As places go, however, San Francisco is pretty extraordinary. After all, how many cities welcome you with an expansive view of the mountains and ocean, as well the Golden Gate Bridge? You can hike among the palm trees, evergreens and maples simultaneously, drive to the beach or the snow, spend the day in Wine Country... It’s easy to get spoiled there.

Within hours of touching ground in California, I found myself pushing a shopping cart around the Berkeley Bowl, an enormous market known as a “foodie’s paradise.” The kids' "honorary grandmother" needed to get groceries and I was happy to accompany her, only I’d forgotten what it would be like to go “bumper carting” on a busy Saturday afternoon in a place where aisles are not quite big enough to fit two shopping carts (hence, the bumping).

The first person I noticed at The Berkeley Bowl was a mom with a sweeping blue tattoo across her neck, accompanied by two Asian children dressed in earthy clothing and tiny Crocs. Shortly thereafter, I passed a groovy dad in flip-flops, with long hair peering out from his wool cap, and two multi-ethnic kids in tow. Two older women with loose, flowing garments (a la Stevie Nicks) brushed past me, as did a hip, twenty-something gal toting esoteric ingredients I barely recognized (kohlrabi anyone?).

I had the assignment of searching for Celtic sea salt, Ancient Organics Ghee, pasture-raised organic eggs, and Bariani Olive Oil, among other specialty items. Although it was like going on a scavenger hunt to find them, they were surprisingly available. So were every fruit and vegetable on the planet, grass-fed meats, sprouted grain breads, olives of every conceivable variety, milk from cows, goats, coconuts, soy beans, hemp seeds, almonds...The Bowl might be crowded and overwhelming, but it really does have everything (except, perhaps, Wonder Bread).

I had another culinary adventure the following evening when I went with some friends to Gather, an organic restaurant located at “the greenest building in the East Bay.” We ordered the recommended “vegan charcuterie plate.” It was so intricately prepared, the waitress spent about three minutes describing all the ingredients, then gave us a pre-printed card in case we needed reminding of what in tarnation we were about to consume. Quite a far cry from Texas barbecue, where what you see is what you get.

While waiting for a friend at the Guerilla Café one morning, I realized that this place could never exist in Texas, simply by virtue of its name. Can you imagine a patriotic cowboy walking into a café named after insurgent forces (even if its bi-line is “art, coffee, vibes”)? Don’t think so. To its credit, The Guerilla Café has incredible coffee (served Euro-style in a bowl) and delicious brunch offerings, but you do need a shoehorn to ease your way into one of their densely packed seats. 

While we’ve gotten so used to seeing luxury cars and mammoth trucks in Texas, it was refreshing to see people of all socioeconomic strata driving weathered station wagons, eco-conscious Priuses and other unassuming vehicles around Berkeley. There was nary a Hummer or Cadillac SUV to be found (though I did drive behind a truck that had a “Don’t mess with Texas” bumper sticker on it.)

Recycling, composting and reusing are the norm in California, and plastic bags are actually banned in San Francisco—something that would be unheard of here, where plastic bags are doled out like Kleenex (and recycled paper goods are nearly impossible to find). Mom-and-pop businesses still prevail in the Bay Area, despite the looming presence of big box stores. Chain stores predominate in The Woodlands, like so many other places in Anywhere, USA.

In the Castro district of San Francisco, we passed a salon called Hand Job Nails & Spa. In The Woodlands, a British friend recommended another privately owned salon, The Shag Spa. Perhaps there are some commonalities among these towns after all...

While the Bay Area still feels like home, one thing I don’t miss about it are all the homeless people there. "It makes me sad," Aidan said, and I concurred. Having been away for just a few months, I was struck by the number of people pushing shopping carts and panhandling (not to mention the awful smell inside the parking lot stairwell). 

Oddly enough, I have yet to see a single homeless person wandering around The Woodlands. I haven’t spotted anyone doling out mysterious wafers (remember "soylent green?"), so perhaps homeless people who’ve tried to inhabit this Stepfordian oasis are quietly carted back to the city. It remains a mystery.

The most welcome (and welcoming) sight upon returning to The Woodlands came in the form of our tail-thumping, tongue-lolling pup, Izzie. Seems she had a blast at the Texas Doghouse and was returned to us happy, healthy, and freshly washed. She did sleep on top of me most of the first night back, however. That’s one way to prevent me from going anywhere anytime soon...

Entry #28

Entry #28

Monday, December 12

9:00 a.m. The radio hosts at 93.7 FM segued from bolos (as in bolo ties) to “BOGOs” (buy one get one [free]). Only in Texas...

4:00 p.m. While waiting to get ¢.25 cent bagels at the Brooklyn Café, Aidan and I sat at a table playing Scrabble on my iPhone. I looked up and pointed out that his paternal grandmother would like the assortment of bears decorating the space above the refrigerator (since she collects them). Just below the bears is a banner that reads: “God bless our troops. Please keep them safe. They are great.” The only recognition of Chanukah is in the form of a small cloth embroidered with the words "Happy Hanukah." It rests just to the left of a small Christmas tree. This place might be called The Brooklyn Café, but it's a far cry from Brooklyn. 

Tuesday, December 13

10:00 a.m. After drop-off, I turned on 93.7 to see what the radio hosts were up to today. I tuned into heated discussion about a Levi’s commercial called “Go Forth,” featuring a guy approaching a row of police, obviously challenging them in protest.

The radio hosts were appalled by this ad and said that “those [expletives] need to [respect our policemen] and abide by the U.S. Constitution!” He said some other choice words about liberal Democrats, which I’ll refrain from using, and added, “This makes me want to wear Levi’s even less now... I like to wear Wrangler and Clutch.” The guy who sounds like Minnie Pearl (or Mrs. Doubtfire, according to David), said, “What about Jordache jeans? Remember them?” Minnie Pearl to the rescue. S/he's great at changing the subject.

Talk about the great divide. San Francisco is the founding city of Levi’s. Wrangler is a southern brand, originating in Tennessee and is now based in North Carolina. Out of curiosity, I did a bit of research and finally learned why Wranglers are so popular with cowboys:

• In the 1940s, Blue Bell (the original manufacturer) employed Bernard Lichtenstein (“Rodeo Ben”), a Jewish tailor from Poland who worked closely with cowboys, to help design jeans suitable for rodeo use. This was the origin of Wrangler Jeans.

• In 1946, Blue Bell workers take part in a contest to give the jeans a brand name. The winning name is Wrangler, synonymous with the name for a working cowboy.

• 1947: Wrangler Jeans features several innovations aimed particularly at cowboys: Felled outseams and inseams, rear pockets positioned for comfort in the saddle... 

• 1974: The Pro Cowboys Association of America (PRCA) officially endorses Wrangler Jeans.

—http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wrangler_(jeans)

Isn’t it ironic that both Wrangler and Levi Strauss jeans were designed by European Jews? If the radio hosts of 93.7 were aware of this, they’d have a field day...

Wednesday, December 14

4:00 p.m. I just transported two rather soggy boys from school. They’d gone to the skating rink, a temporary structure created just for the winter holidays. Because it reached a balmy 80 degrees today (very unusual, even for Texas), the rink was covered with puddles of water. Still, Aidan had a blast. Noah, on the other hand, said that he couldn’t even stand up straight because his ankles are so overly flexible (i.e., wobbly), even with the help of an “ice scooter.” Seems he’ll be sticking to land sports.

Thursday, December 15

10:00 a.m. The weather forecast for today is the same as yesterday—a very humid 80 degrees. The trees have suddenly changed color (those that still have leaves), making it look like a beautiful fall day, only it’s the middle of December!

11:00 a.m. I went to pick up a prescription after dropping it off earlier and thought I would try the drive-thru just to see what it was like. There were two entrances, which confused me, because I wondered how the one away from the pick-up window could possibly work. Turns out there’s a mini elevator-type thing that transports credit cards and prescriptions to and fro. It goes up and around, then magically comes back to you with your little goodie bag. Pretty nifty invention, I must say. Still, it was kind of surreal going to a store without having any direct human contact.

Between drive thrus for coffee, food, gas, prescriptions and school car lines, I realized could basically spend the entire day glued to my car seat. Doesn’t really help build a sense of community (or gluteal muscles, for that matter). Honestly, I’d rather walk, interact with people in person, carry my groceries, and walk back home.

11:00 a.m. After running several errands, it was clear that it didn't matter where we were; Izzie needed a walk. While we were technically still in the The Woodlands (albeit the outskirts), it looked like we'd entered an entirely different realm.

The first house we passed had a soggy floral-patterend couch in the middle of the yard and a dresser on the front porch. Several others had abandoned cars, trucks and campers littering their properties. I even saw an empty Budweiser can in a paper bag on the ground. How's that for cliché?

I did pass one interesting place, however, a ranch house-turned-pet bird shop. A man wearing an army fatigue cap was walking out when he saw Izzie and me and asked if we wanted to come in, so I figured I’d be polite and take a look. (He suggested I leave Izzie outside in a large, empty bird cage but I politely declined.)

When we walked into the room where most of the birds were kept, we were met with a cacophony of deafening squawks. As we left, one bird yelled, “Bye! Bye! Bye! Bye!" until we were out of ear shot.

Friday, December 16

2:30 p.m. Over the course of just one day, the kids and I spotted a whopping 20 cars with antlers and a Rudolph nose, including one with bells around the antlers, and another with stocking caps on them. This sort of car adornment seemed festive at first, but now that we’ve seen them all over the place, the novelty has worn off to the point where I wouldn’t be opposed to my sons bringing their Nerf guns out for a ride and taking aim at those felted antlers that are overpopulating the roadways. Bah humbug (or rather, Hummerbug).

Before I bid you adieu, I want to share a photo of something that caught my eye while walking with Izzie and the boys at the reserve. While much of The Woodlands is carefully planned and contrived, this swirly tree branch has diverged from the straight and narrow path of its wooded counterparts. It's completely fo' real, a natural work of art:

Happy Holidays!