Entry #20

Entry #20

Tuesday, November 8

Writing took a backseat to entertaining guests this past weekend, when we welcomed friends of Noah and Aidan from Berkeley. I got to meet Aidan’s friend, Sasha, at the gate, since he was an “unaccompanied minor.” In order to do so, however, I had to show my I.D. about six times, wait in the security line, get a body scan, then wait again for the everyone (including the pilot and flight attendants) to de-board before Sasha was escorted off the plane. I really miss the days when we could simply walk to the gate and greet our guests.

Because we live about 30 miles from Houston, the kids weren’t that crazy about the thought of riding in a car to see a museum or tour the city. They just wanted to hang out, throw a football, play basketball, and, of course, swim in the pool.

Aidan and Sasha were determined to swim, no matter how cold the water, but even they ran out after telling me they couldn’t feel their toes.

After David got the heater working, everyone plunged in. Aidan and Sasha had me take photos of them jumping, leaping, and diving into the pool. Noah’s friend, James, enjoyed doing laps, while Izzie lapped up the water and the newfound attention.

When we finally got out of the house on Saturday afternoon, we ended up going to a place called Shankz Miniature Golf. It’s housed at a nondescript shopping center and  looks like a dark, cheesy video game room with long picnic tables until you actually enter the course inside. It looks especially trippy wearing 3-D glasses, which make the glowing images appear to float in space.

Sasha asked me, “How can things be 3-D if they’re already 3-D (i.e., real life)?” I wondered the same thing until we walked into the miniature golf course and experienced it for ourselves.

He also asked me if indoor mini golf was “a Texas thing.” “I don’t think so,” I said. I’ve never seen anything like it. After readjusting to daylight, my eyes were tweaking in much the same way as after seeing Avatar. We can now check Shankz off our “to do” list. (Good thing, too, since I kept accidentally calling it Skankz.)

We went through a town called Tomball en route to the Renaissance Faire on Sunday, which James renamed Tom’s Balls. While only 40 minutes away, the Renaissance Faire makes you feel like you’ve entered a different realm. The vendors and performers all stay in character, even when they're off duty. I've never been called "m'lady" so many times in my life.

The standard female costume included some sort of corset, so there was an abundance of décolletage on display. One particularly well-endowed woman approached me at a booth that sold printed leather signs. She held one she wanted to show me in front of her ample bosoms, which were barely contained by her outfit. The kids nonchalantly turned in unison and stared at the wall. I politely skimmed the sign and noticed that she was one sneeze away from "spilling forth" entirely.

Rather than wander aimlessly through the fair, we thought it would be fun to see some performances. The first one we spotted was School of Sword. While it was a bit young for our guys, it was entertaining seeing a little girl with blond ringlets and a pink tutu executing a “lunge-thrust!” with gusto.

We left a few minutes early so we could catch the jousting tournament at the main arena, and it was packed to the gills. I must confess that I’ve seen better jousting performances (this one was pretty brief and anticlimactic), but it was still fun to experience the hoopla of the event.

The best performance by far was the falconry show. We saw hawks, owls and falcons swoop across the audience, then go back to their "bunk" entirely on command. We didn't have the best seats, but my zoom camera helped me get a better look at the various birds.

During the show, I noticed a man in the audience dressed as a Roman soldier. While watching the show, he munched on a soft pretzel. Somehow I thought he should've been gnawing on a turkey leg or even a steak-on-a-stick. A soft pretzel, after all, is hardly fitting for a man clad in a gold plastic hat with a furry red mohawk, is it?

The kids were definitely junk food junkies that day. They munched not only on a “King-size” bag of kettlecorn, but also shared a funnel cake, drank root beer, had soft pretzels...They basically came away from the fair with a ball of sugary dough in their bellies. I made a heaping pile o’ veggies with dinner that night in a vain attempt to counterbalance the garbage they inhaled.

The next day, David drove James to the Houston Hobby airport while I took Sasha to Bush International. When I returned to my car, I felt like I’d just walked into the movie, The Birds. Swarms of black birds were flying overhead like roving clouds. I rolled up my windows and felt very thankful I wasn’t driving a convertible.

The next morning, Noah noticed some bird poop on my door. I’d say I got off light. I could’ve been completely splattered.

Entry #19

Entry #19

Tuesday, November 1

10:00 a.m. Halloween was just last night, but you'd never know it, judging by the abundance of Christmas decorations that abound this morning. The shopping areas around here are already fully decorated with Christmas trees, life-size Santa Claus figurines and copper boughs. It’s as though little elves were decorating in the wee hours of the night while everyone was fast asleep, surrounded by piles of candy and discarded costumes. I’ve never seen Christmas arrive so early. No wonder Santa was out and about on Halloween.

Noon: I just noticed a bright pink piece of paper taped to my front door. It’s a notice that our curbs will be painted tomorrow:

Tomorrow from 7 am until 7 pm, new reflective ‘GLASS BEAD’ curb numbers will be made available to every Home on your street Curb numbers are very important. The Police, Fire Department, And Ambulance services look at the curb FIRST for your address, House numbers are hard to see from the street and almost impossible to read after dark. We are offering various styles of curb numbers. Please check which you prefer.

The lack of periods and other punctuation in this announcement worry me, since the person who wrote this is a city official, presumably. In small letters, the flyer notes that this is not a free service, but rather costs $15 for basic numbers. For $25, you can have your address printed with your favorite high school, universty or professional sports team logo. 

There’s also a blank space for “any other design.” Would they really honor this if I requested a non-Texan logo? It might fun, if only for reaction’s sake, to request a Grateful Dead symbol or evolution fish, but I’d rather not shell out $25 for a sidewalk decal. We already have the kids’ names carved in the sidewalk in San Francisco. What more do I need?

5:00 p.m. Aidan and I just finished watching the very final Friday Night Lights episode. We’ve watched every episode from all five seasons in the span of two months. Can you tell our social lives aren’t exactly hopping?

“The last episode is all about stuff that makes people kiss.” –Aidan, while watching the final fifth season episode of FNL

Wednesday, November 2

After having a bizarre reaction to my vitamins this morning (apparently niacin, when taken without food, can make you flushed and your skin feel like it’s being pricked with pins-and-needles), David took the kids to school. Izzie needed a walk, so we roamed around the neighborhood instead of going to the usual hiking trail.

For a change of pace, I decided to cross the street, heading away from our little hood (Chandler Creek) and into Heritage Hill, which I’ve actually never explored before. Little did I know that I’d be entering McMansion Land. Each and every house is enormous, expansive and meticulously landscaped. Many have private electronic gates. Izzie had a great time romping on the grass, especially at one home whose front yard had lush, golf course-type grass. I could’ve rolled in it myself, it was so inviting.

One house in particular looked like a hotel, complete with giant pillars, semi-circular driveway, and an imposing hill. Another one had so many rooms, it could easily have housed an entire generation.

There were two homes for sale around this area, both being represented by a real estate company called The Kink Team. Not exactly a great-sounding name. On the plus side, at least it’s not called The Kinky Team. These are million-plus dollar homes, and while some clients might enjoy esoteric features in their new manse, I don’t think a name like Kinky would really convey the upscale image a buyer would seek. It’s better than Ima Hogg, though, and look how far she went despite her name!

Noon: The kids each have a friend visiting this weekend, and short of taking them out to dinner, swimming, playing basketball and just hanging out, I really don’t know what these boys would enjoy doing. I thought perhaps a boat ride on the Bayou would be fun, but the rides are cancelled until March. Aidan just went to the Renaissance Pleasure Faire yesterday with his class and said it was a blast, but Noah told me that he would’ve loved to do that about five years ago.

So once again, I went onto my trusty computer and Googled events this weekend in Houston. There’s not a whole lot, I must confess, unless they want to go to an art fair, a Christmas open house (it opens this weekend), or one of many museums. There is an aquarium and zoo here, so those are possibilities. There is also a Space Center and the Museum of Natural Sciences. I just don’t know if tween-age and teenage boys would like to do this sort of thing. If we had girls coming, we could take them to the magnanimous Galleria, but my boys aren’t big on shopping, even if there is a skating rink in the middle of this Fourth Largest Mall in America.

While reading about the various museums in Houston, I read about the usual list (history, natural sciences, art), then happened upon The National Museum of Funeral History. Of all the renowned museums in this city, it was named Best Houston Museum 2011. Yes, according to the Best of Houston judges, a museum dedicated to the ritual of burying dead people totally rocks!

Current exhibits include “Coffins and Caskets of the Past,” “Historical Hearses,” “History of Embalming,” “The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier,” and “Ghana and Fantasy Coffins,” as well as timely Dias de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) exhibit. You can come in any time you like, but you may never leave...

2:30 p.m. The refrigerator repairman just left, having replaced the seal that had worn out. When I opened the front door to let him in, the door scratched against the floor, making an awful screeching sound. Then, because the water filter broke off the other day, water shpritzed all over when the poor man went to wash his hands.

Our neighbor said, “Yep, when you reach that 15-year-mark, the house just starts falling apart.” I guess that’s what happens when you build a house out of paper and glue.

Thursday, November 3

1:30 p.m. I just returned from a very interesting outing at The Hong Kong Market. It’s about 30 minutes away time-wise, but a world away culturally. While its name infers that it’s largely a Chinese market, that’s hardly the case. There’s food from everywhere imaginable—Japan, China, Korea, Vietnam, The Phillipines...there’s even a selection of Mexican and Cajun foods!

Much of the produce comes from California, though there are some esoteric selections that I’ve never seen before, like dragonfruit. It’s really quite beautiful looking, though I was told it doesn’t really have much flavor. There was a bounty of persimmons, too, which I haven’t seen in Texas until today. The produce selection was truly expansive.

Some offerings were more appealing than others. There were “pig parts” hanging out behind the meat case that were all too recognizable. There were also mounds of shrimp, separated by those with heads and those without.

I stopped and stared at the inside of an enormous fish carcass. It had the biggest spine I’d ever seen on a fish. At the end of the seafood section were aquariums filled with live catfish, crabs and lobsters. Needless to say, I did not bring home any meat or seafood, as food or pet.

I did, however, find some items I wouldn’t have otherwise found at the local HEB, like Miso paste, genmaicha tea, veggie potstickers, rice noodles, sweet brown rice, and of course, the ever-popular Pocky cookies.

On the drive back, we passed a place called Phat Body Gym. What a great name! I wonder if the owners are Vietnamese or just have a good sense of humor.

7:00 p.m. After work, David stopped at a liquor store called Spec’s and picked up some interesting brews. The one he sampled tonight is called “Clown Shoes Muffin Top,” which cracked us all up. In small print, the label notes that “no muffin tops were harmed in the production of this product.”

 Cheers!

Entry #18

Entry #18

Friday, October 28

The kids returned from school today feeling cheerful and upbeat. Why? Because they spent the day celebrating Halloween.

Noah’s class watched the movie Psycho, which Noah didn’t think was scary at all, considering the archaic special effects. Just thinking about this movie while taking a shower still scares me. Ah, how times have changed. The kids’ music teacher emulated the sound effects via piano, which really impressed them. Aidan can now play the freaky sound of Norman Bates stabbing through the shower curtain.

Aidan arrived at the car holding a quart-size bag stuffed to the brim with candy. “Every kid got one of these!” he said, beaming. Between the “getting boo’ed” gift basket, treats from my mother-in-law, and this mega-bag, we already have a full bowl of candy, and it’s not even Halloween.

The interesting thing about Aidan is that he likes to collect candy more than eat it. To him, it’s like opening up a new bank account every Halloween. How many Milky Ways will he deposit this year?

4:00 p.m. Roger the repairman is back for the third time since we moved here. The first time he came to fix the dishwasher, though there was nothing he could do short of replace the whole darn thing. The second time our disposal didn’t work. Today he’s here because one toilet is broken, the other has a rusty chain, the sink is falling away from the wall, and a drawer has completely fallen apart. Just yesterday another repairman was here trying to fix our refrigerator, which won’t close because the plastic stripping is so worn out. At least repairs are covered because we’re renting.

Roger came with an assistant this time named Rusty, who ironically was the one to replace the rusty chain. He would look like a fresh-faced teenager if it wasn’t for his mutton-chops.

While working in the bathroom, he inadvertently freed a cockroach that had found residence behind the wobbly sink. The sink has since been re-glued and the roach is now inhabiting the great outdoors.

Roger said there wasn’t much he could do for the flimsy drawer but put some epoxy on it. “It’s made out of paper,” he said. I’m not expecting dovetail joinery and wooden dowels, but PAPER? Geez. This house is built like a second grade art project.

9:00 p.m. We just returned from the Annual Harvest Hayride at 7 Acre Wood. The name of this place reminded me of Winnie-the-Pooh, though that was, of course, 100-Acre Wood. It was already pretty dark by the time we got there, but I could still take in the scene: a pumpkin patch, some farm animals (goats and chickens), a small putt-putt course, horse shoes, a mini zip line, swings and of course, a tractor pulling a wagon lined with hay. All in all, seven acres of down-home fun.

In addition to serving hot dogs and chips, there was a café, which seemed to be very popular judging by the number of people holding warm beverage cups. The indoor seating area was empty, but still illuminated, so I went inside to check out the assortment of country-style bric-a-brac.

While the place was certainly warm and inviting, I was struck by the abundance of religious objets d'art, mounted crosses, and evangelical booklets accompanied by a "please take one" sign. The bookshelves were filled with bible study materials, as well as a few dusty history books.

I met a few parents at the kids’ school, and it really is an international place. I’ve met people from Holland, Italy and Israel, but the majority seem to be upper-middle class Mexicans.

Now that the temperature has dropped, the house is suddenly freezing at night. David realized, while standing next to the wall, that he could actually feel the cold air coming in. “This house was definitely built by the first little piggy,” he said.

Saturday, October 29

12:30 p.m. I just picked up Noah from bowling. Rather than relay the usual, “It was fun,” he told me he was upset with himself for having an especially low series of scores that day. I figured he simply had an “off” day, but then found our he’d used a 15-pound ball, far too heavy for his lanky arms.

Noah said that ordinarily he wouldn’t care what his score was, but since everyone takes bowling so seriously around here, it’s hard to just have fun. Luckily I could step outside the situation and give him some perspective. For one, I reminded him that his team is called “We’ve Got Balls.” For another, it’s BOWLING. When it stops being fun, it’s time to stop bowling.

3:30 p.m. We just returned from the kids’ last YMCA basketball game. Noah was the big scorer, mainly because he can reach over everyone else’s head to get the rebounds and then reach over them once again to score. Aidan was great on defense, though he was definitely crowded by the most assertive kid on the other team. He was also tripped, elbowed and pushed, so by the end of the game, his nose was throbbing and he was walking with a definite limp. Still, the boys really looked out for one another on the court, and they won their last game by just a few points. Hopefully Aidan can learn to stay out of the way of pointy elbows in the future.

4:30 p.m. I just returned from the cul-de-sac mailbox to find a belated birthday gift from a Berkeley friend. She grew up in North Carolina, so she’s really a Southern gal at heart. In the card, she wrote that I would be receiving a subscription to the enclosed magazine. Upon unwrapping it, I discovered my first issue of Garden & Gun: Soul of the South.

I’d never seen this magazine before, so I immediately rifled through it (so to speak) and was quite impressed. One feature I especially liked was the “Made in the South Awards,” which include everything from hand-built guitars and custom hats to farm tables and herbal jam. The only mention of anything proximate to Houston in this issue is a nod to a restored hotel in Galveston. Since The Woodlands is more semblant of Anywhere, USA than Charming, South, it’s unlikely to be featured anytime soon.

Sunday, October 30

10:00 a.m. After dropping the kids off at Sunday school, we met up with a neighbor for a walk around the George Mitchell Reserve. Izzie loves romping with his two Golden Retrievers, so this was a real treat for her.

Along the way, we talked about the schools here, among other things, and the number of kids who play football. “I was a quarterback about 100 pounds ago,” he said. He told us that at the middle school alone, 600 kids (out of the 2200 on the 7^th/8^th grade campus) play football. There are 12 teams, 12 coaches, 12 games every week.

While most of these kids attend the rigorous practices and are technically on one of the many teams, only a fraction of them actually play the games. This is also the case with high school teams. “There can be like 100 kids on the sidelines. Texas likes to intimidate people that way,” our neighbor said.

Besides the all-encompassing topic of sports, the other subject we chatted about was the reserve itself. Only within the last few years has it actually been officially designated as a nature preserve. Before that, it was private land. Our neighbor said he was jogging around there a few years back when a game warden stopped him and started writing up a ticket. Having grown up in Louisiana, he’d heard that game wardens in Texas are basically all-powerful, so he kept mum. A person he knew who’d “had a word” with a warden was handcuffed and taken to jail.

Our neighbor said he’s seen plenty of wildlife, mostly deer, but has heard that there’s a big population of boars around here. He saw some guys with crossbows while hiking one day and figured they were hunting “wild pigs.” I can’t imagine running into a tusked pig, but it could happen. Izzie would likely run after it, wanting to play.

Hogs were introduced in Mexico and Texas 300 years ago by the Spanish, who brought them here for food. Other domesticated pigs escaped and became wild over the years and joined them.

—www.ehow.com/facts

8:00 p.m. I opened up my handy Texas guidebook and was reading about possible places to take the kids’ friends when they visit this coming weekend. One place that sounds interesting (but probably not up their alley) is the Varner Plantation, once inhabited by “The First Lady of Texas,” Ima Hogg. This was her real name. Miss Hogg, as she was known, became a major American philanthropic, patron and collector of the arts and “one of the most respected women in Texas during the 20^th century (New York Times, 8/21/75).”

Ima Hogg was described as “small and dainty and feminine” (lucky for her). Her first name was supposedly taken from her uncle Thomas Hogg’s epic Civil War poem, The Fate of Marvin, which featured two young women named Ima and Leila. Contrary to popular belief, Ima did not have a sister named Ura. (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ima_Hogg)

Monday, October 31

Today began in a way I can only describe as appropriately ghoulish, since Halloween is tonight. First thing this morning, Noah tossed his cookies (or rather breakfast) all over the kitchen floor after taking his “teen” vitamins. Then, Izzie decided to roll around in some sort of putrefied fecal matter. Of course she was bound to do this because I gave her a long, thorough bath yesterday after hiking in the woods and picking off 13 lively tics. Hopefully as the day progresses, there will be less tricks (and tics) and more treats.

4:00 p.m. This afternoon I saw a man dressed as Santa. This is a first. It does make perfect sense, though, considering the fact that every store I entered today had its Halloween goods on sale half price and already had Thanksgiving and Christmas items out on display. Santa is obviously aware of this.

6:00 p.m. While getting ready for Halloween, Aidan tossed a football with a neighbor of ours, a 16-year-old girl whose softball team just won not only number one in the state championships, but number one in the nation. She was sporting a big, chunky championship ring. The level of not just competition, but also achievement in sports here is mind-boggling.

9:00 p.m. I just finished giving away two full bins of Ring Pops. While in Berkeley, we had very few trick-or-treaters in the neighborhood, so it was fun to give out candy for a change.

The gathering around the cul-de-sac was quite nice, though I completely embarrassed myself by asking the man sitting next to me which house was his. He patted my leg and said, “Darlin, I live next door.” Granted, I'd met him only once, but still... I slumped behind my cauldron of Ring Pops for a little while before regaining my composure. 

There were two full-size tables filled with all kinds of food, including several slow cookers filled with hots dogs and baked beans, meatballs in some kind of sweet purple sauce, Chick-Fil-A nuggets, and a variety of dips and sauces. Someone carved a small pumpkin to look like it was barfing guacomole, which was clever (though somewhat unappetizing after my morning clean-up). I didn't end up bringing Jell-O, but instead bought some lox (it's appropriately orange) and made mini bagel, lox, cream cheese and cucumber appetizers. Not exactly along the same lines as buffalo dip and mini weenies, but tasty nonetheless.

Aidan was stoked about his stash of candy after trick-or-treating around the neighborhood. Full-size candy bars are always a big hit, and he got several of them, to his great delight. His other personal favorites? A bag of Doritos and microwave popcorn.

Noah decided not to go trick-or-treating since he felt too self-conscious about his 6’2” height to play dress-up and ask for candy. Aidan, however, now has enough loot to keep both of them hopped up on sugar for months to come. Aidan dressed up as Yoda for the third year running, only this year my young Padawan wore Birkenstocks. You can take the boy out of Berkeley...