Road trips

  • Up in the air

    Okay, so I wrote this yesterday on the plane, but the thing about being a gazillion feet in the air and flying over a desert is that there is no wireless connection. However, all this holds true today except the part about actually sitting on a plane.

    I’m sitting on the plane on my way home from Las Vegas.

    Oh yes, I have become quite the jet setter.

    Unfortunately, I made a critical error and didn’t check in until I arrived at the airport, which placed me way down in the dregs of category B boarding. As I walked on the plane, I searched frantically for an aisle seat because, hello, claustrophobia issues.

    Much to my dismay I now find myself seated next to some people who apparently indulged in too much Indian cuisine and adult beverages last night. The smell of scotch and curry is thick.

    I’m not worried that they are reading this over my shoulder though because it’s safe to say they are out for the duration of the flight.

    So now I’m just sitting here, breathing through my mouth, listening to some Christmas music because my iPod is on shuffle and it found its way to some holiday tunes. Who knew Christmas music could be so enjoyable in early September?

    Oh, iPod. You know me better than I know myself.

    Anyway, it was a great weekend in Vegas. I arrived around noon on Friday and Sophie picked me up at the airport.

    We checked into our hotel and then immediately went in search of Mexican food because that is what we do. The concierge recommended a place called Lindo Mihoacan and the only reason I know how to spell it is because I still have the receipt from lunch. I couldn’t pronounce the name right now if you offered me a $106.

    It was the first time I have ever been in a Mexican restaurant that didn’t know what I was talking about when I tried to order chips and queso. I was frightened for my palate.

    I mean I once ate at a Mexican restaurant in Wisconsin and was able to order queso, which, granted, Wisconsin is the cheese capitol of the U.S. but still as far away from Mexico as one can get.

    Which probably explains why the restaurant was called Charlie O’Brien’s Cantina.

    The point is we ate a queso-less lunch, but did have some decent guacamole so all was not lost.

    After lunch we hit the strip and played the slots for the next 24 hours.

    Oh sure. Like we’d have that many quarters.

    We spent most of the weekend at the Deeper Still event and it was incredible. Over the next week, we’ll be putting a lot of video and pictures up over at the Allaccess blog if you want to check it out.

    You know, the last two years of my life have brought some huge changes. I resigned from my job and we became a single income family, which is a tricky proposition when that single income is based on a business that comes with seasonal fluctuations. I have been stretched and challenged in ways I couldn’t have imagined and have had my share of nights where I’ve been awake at 3 a.m. wondering how things would ever work out.

    But in the midst of all that have come some of the biggest blessings of my life. I’ve seen God provide for our family in ways I couldn’t have imagined. After years of feeling trapped in a job that never felt quite right, I’m getting to do something that I enjoy.

    And yes, there are still days and circumstances that are a struggle, where I still feel like I’m being pushed way beyond my comfort zone. I’m still learning to walk by faith and not by sight, which is hard for a semi-recovering control freak.

    But like Priscilla Shirer said on Friday night, the purpose of the journey isn’t necessarily to get us to the Promised Land, but to get us to draw closer to God.

    I find myself more drawn to Him than I’ve ever been in my life because He is where I find my provision. He is where I find my strength. There have been so many times in the last two years that life just hasn’t seemed to make sense unless I look at it through eyes of faith.

    I’ve spent a lot of time lately worrying about what will happen or what won’t happen, and I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this once or eight hundred times, but I’m not a big fan of change.

    But that’s life. It’s about change and it’s about trusting Him in the midst of those changes.

    Even if some of them are as jarring as going from Travis Cottrell singing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” on your iPod to being blasted with “Mary, Mary” by Run D.M.C.

    On Friday night, Priscilla shared this verse from Job 42:5, “My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you.”

    By the grace of God, my eyes are learning to see. To really see Him.

    Oh that they would see Him more.

  • I’m back

    You know what happens when you don’t write for a few days and decide to do reruns like you’re “Sanford and Son” or “Joanie Loves Chachi”?

    The portion of your brain that generates mediocrity on a daily basis shrivels up to the size of nothing, rendering you completely incapable of composing even your usual brand of okay.

    So you will sit and watch women’s gymnastics for hours while trying to come up with something of interest to share and become completely distracted by all the various hair clippies that gymnasts use to hold their hair back. Why all the different colors? Why is there not more hair accessory coordination?

    I think I may have just realized why I was never a serious athlete.

    Anyway, last week Gulley and I took the kids on a little road trip to Bryan/College Station, but without the College Station part. We had every intention of visiting the A&M campus in our continuing quest to ensure that we are sufficiently brainwashing our children to become members of the Fightin’ Texas Aggie classes of ’24, ’25, and ’27, but there were too many obstacles in our way.

    We were initially a little concerned about making the trip because we were heading right in the path of Tropical Storm Edouard. There were predictions of torrential rain and fifty-five mile an hour winds that turned out to be a light mist and a slight breeze.

    Oh meteorologists. You kill me with your enthusiasm and predictions of Armageddon.

    Fortunately for us, but not for the credibility of any meteorologist in Texas, Edouard turned out to be a big fat nothing.

    We arrived at Gulley’s mama’s house just in time for dinner on Tuesday night. She had made us a home cooked dinner of barbecued brisket, baked beans, and twice-baked potatoes. I wanted to cry from all the happiness. There is nothing in the world I like more than a good home cooked meal that I didn’t have to cook.

    Caroline had a cough that started on her birthday and, by the time we got to Bryan, it had turned into a full-blown cold. She had a low-grade fever and just didn’t feel that great, plus Jackson was getting over strep. Basically, our energetic bunch was content to hang out at the house and play with Gulley’s mama’s new puppy.

    So that’s what we did.

    And, actually, it was really nice.

    We headed back home on Thursday and accomplished something heretofore unattainable. We made the entire three hour drive without making one stop.

    Do you hear what I’m saying? Three hours. Three kids ages six and under. No stops.

    Gulley and I both later admitted that each of us had to go to the bathroom about twenty minutes into the trip, but there was no way one of us was going to be the reason we had to stop.

    Neither of us could endure that kind of shame.

    The failure would have caused us to feel like a meteorologist.

  • Silver belle

    Gulley and I have taken the kids on a little road trip this week, so I’m going to rerun some of my personal favorites. I’ll be back next Monday. Y’all have a good week.

    Oh, and I’ll also have a few new posts up on Allaccess if you want to head over there.

    **This post was originally published November 29, 2007**

    On Tuesday, Caroline and I met Mimi and Bops at Luby’s for lunch. We always meet at Luby’s because Bops is a big fan of the cafeteria in spite of that fact that he isn’t 85 and has all his teeth. Caroline loves Luby’s because she can get Jello which for her is one of the major food groups.

    York Peppermint Patties for breakfast and Jello for lunch. We are an organic household.

    Except I will tell y’all that the other day, when we were at HEB, I asked her if she wanted to get a donut and she said, “No thank you, I’d rather have a carrot.” So we’re having her DNA tested later in the week.

    While we were at Luby’s, Mimi pulls something out of her purse and hands it to me. It’s a page from the Neiman Marcus Christmas Book. And look what it features.

    Is it just me or does that look a whole lot like this?

    That’s what I thought.

    And this isn’t just any jacket being sold at Neimans. It is a Juicy Couture jacket designed exclusively for Neimans and is featured as one of their HOT 100 GIFTS in this year’s book.

    It retails for $400.00.

    SHUT UP.

    The Neiman Marcus Christmas Book is like hallowed retail ground. It actually featured his and her jets one year. And between you and me, P and I weren’t that impressed with them after they were delivered.

    So, of course I had to call Nena and let her know. I called her around 1:00 p.m. yesterday because if I called any earlier than that there’s a high probability that Granddaddy would have answered the phone saying “SEVENTY-SIX DEGREES!” and then hung up on me when he realized it wasn’t someone from the local news station calling as part of their daily contest to see who just watched the weather report.

    When she picked up the phone we exchanged the normal pleasantries and then I said, “Nena, I got the Neiman’s Christmas Book in the mail today.”

    “OOOH HONEY, YOU DID? GOOD FOR YOU!” (Do y’all see why a version of her jacket being in THE BOOK is going to blow her mind? She was just thrilled I got THE BOOK in the mail.)

    “Yes, I got it and you won’t believe this but they have a silver sequined jacket that looks almost just like the one you showed me. It’s one of their HOT 100 items and it costs $400.00.”

    “FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS? HONEY, LISTEN, I paid $5.00 for mine. I can’t believe it’s in the Neiman’s Book. I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE IT! OOOH you have MADE MY DAY!”

    “I know. You could probably sell yours and make some money.

    “OH HONEY, LISTEN, I am not going to sell my jacket. I’m going to wear it shopping! So most importantly, what is the model in the picture wearing with her jacket? I just need to know what to wear with it.”

    “She has on black jeans.”

    “BLACK JEANS? Well HONEY, LISTEN, I don’t know about BLACK JEANS.”

    Which I actually think is a good call by Nena. BLACK JEANS are precarious fashion territory.

    Neiman’s might want to listen to her because she is obviously ahead of the fashion curve.

    Not to mention she saved $395.00 by finding that jacket in the back of her closet.

  • East bound and down

    I slept until noon yesterday.

    And I am not going to lie, it was glorious.

    The weekend was so incredible, but it started at 3:30 a.m. Friday morning and didn’t end until I walked through my back door last night at midnight. And then I was so excited to tell P all about it that we stayed up until after 1:00 a.m.

    God bless him for getting up with Caroline and taking her to church yesterday morning. He is a gem.

    On Friday morning at 5:00 a.m. my dad picked me up to drive me to the airport. My flight didn’t leave until 6:30, but he wanted to pick me up a little early so he’d have time to go home and work out on his elliptical machine before he went in to the office.

    The early morning workout gene seems to have skipped a generation.

    However, I was never so glad to be somewhere early because when I arrived at the airport, it was totally packed. In fact, it was the longest security line I have ever waited in. I’ve never seen anything like it.

    It was like discovering a whole new world that I never knew existed, like people who don’t enjoy cold Diet Coke over ice or chocolate. Weird and unusual. Who are all these early risers and where are they going at 5:00 a.m.?

    And then, as I was waiting in the line at Starbucks to see if they offered caffeine with any sort of I.V. delivery system, I overheard a couple in front of me talking and the wife was trying to explain to her husband who Faith Hill and Tim McGraw were and it was taking quite a bit of effort because she wasn’t really sure who they were but thought that they “might do some singing on stage together”.

    Lord have mercy.

    This is why I don’t need to be around people who wake up at 5:00 a.m. Clearly, we are from two different planets. How do you not know who Faith and Tim are? Even if you don’t listen to country music?

    I’m sure it’s because this couple is very sophisticated and well-traveled and would never try to beg a security guard to let them go through security with their flip-flops on because they forgot their fungus-preventing security socks (I haven’t actually trademarked that name, but I will eventually) and have phobias about their bare feet touching the place where thousands of other bare feet have walked.

    Anyway, I arrived safe in Atlanta where the lovely Annie not only picked me up from the airport but took me to eat breakfast at The Flying Biscuit. Eating that biscuit was the first time I saw the face of God this weekend, but it wouldn’t be the last.

    Annie dropped me off at The Omni. I checked in and got in the elevators to head up to my room, but I punched the bottom on the elevator and nothing happened.

    Punch again.

    Nothing.

    Again.

    Nothing.

    I stood there for five minutes in a non-moving elevator until I realized you had to insert your room key to get the elevator to take you to your floor. They don’t have that at the La Quinta.

    Sophie arrived around 1:00 and we went down to the arena to watch sound check. We had no idea what exactly that entailed, but Travis had told us we could come down to sound check and it was either that or watch some old episodes of “Sanford and Son” in our room, so we chose sound check.

    As soon as we walked in we saw Amanda and Janelle. It was so great to finally meet them in person. I also got to meet Travis’s sweet wife, Angela, for the first time which was so fun after hearing so much about her.

    We all stood around and visited for a few minutes because they were all very busy doing official sound checking things, and then Beth Moore came walking up to us. I could have died.

    I got to meet Beth, we hugged and I was pretty much speechless because I knew if I said anything I might go straight into the ugly cry. I think I may have said something like “You have no idea”, which is really so profound and eloquent.

    I am quite the wordsmith.

    I’m also pretty sure I introduced myself as “Big”.

    Nice.

    Everyone had places to be and things to do, so Sophie and I went back up to the room to catch some “Sanford and Son” and possibly a nap. That’s the benefit of not having any real talent, you’re able to just hang out in hotel rooms and watch Aunt Esther and Lamont. “Hey Dummy, here comes 5,000 volts of ugly”.

    Finally, it was time to wade into the sea of 19,000 women to get into the arena. I have never seen anything like it.

    We finally arrived at our seats and a little while later Travis and the Praise Team started singing. And that’s pretty much when I started crying.

    I was just completely overwhelmed by the presence of God. Not to mention that I was sitting directly behind Beth, Kay Arthur and Priscilla Shirer. It was honestly one of the most surreal moments of my life.

    And I just kept thinking, “God, how did I get here?”

    But there was no where else I would have rather been.

    I’ll tell y’all more tomorrow, because, seriously, could this be any longer?

    That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.

  • To pee or not to pee that is the question

    I haven’t brought up the fact that the day after Thanksgiving I woke up with a delightful urinary tract infection. I realize this may be crossing the line of too much information, however, it is relevant to the story. If it weren’t, I can assure y’all that I would never just share random information about my bladder. Because EWWW.

    Anyway, Caroline did indeed spend the night of The Holiday of the Turkey with Mimi and Bops. I cannot tell y’all how excited I was to sleep in late on Friday morning and, really, if you have kids you know exactly how excited I was. However, I made two crucial errors that cost me my valuable morning of sleeping in.

    1. I forgot to put the bark collar on our dog Scout. If Scout doesn’t have his bark collar on at night then he feels the need to bark at very ominous, scary things such as a leaf falling from a tree. I was rudely awakened about 4 a.m. by Scout barking wildly to let us know that somewhere a blade of grass just blew in the wind.

    2. I ate too much chocolate and various spicy foods and decided to not drink any water all day long. After all, drinking water might cause me to not eat as much and that’s just un-American.

    Thus, I awoke at 6 a.m. and recognized the beginnings of a urinary tract infection.

    And oh, they are delightful.

    Also, I don’t know that I’ve ever mentioned this because, again, TOO MUCH INFORMATION, but on a normal day I go to the bathroom about 87 times. And that’s not counting the three consecutive times I go right before bed every night. I’m a compulsive potty-er.

    Anyway, our plan for Friday was to head to our friend AJ’s ranch and hang out with her family. We were so excited about it and I decided that we needed to forge ahead with our plans in spite of my compromised bladder. So in between trips to the bathroom, I got us packed. We loaded the cars and headed south on I-35.

    And I say loaded the cars because we took two cars. P was going to another friend’s ranch on Saturday but Caroline and I were going to come home, therefore we needed two cars. I gave Caroline the choice of who she wanted to ride with and her only concern was who was going to be in front. She chose P because he would be the leader and in her mind, the clear winner.

    And she may have looked me right in the eye and growled, “Daddy and I are going to BEAT YOU.”

    I hope I’m not raising Tonya Harding.

    I knew I needed to go to the bathroom before we had even reached downtown San Antonio but I tried desperately to keep my mind on other things. Finally, I called P and told him I’d need to stop. We pulled over at a gas station and Caroline decided she also needed to go.

    After waiting in line for 10 or 48 minutes, it was finally our turn. Only Caroline didn’t need to go after all. She just likes to check out various gas station restrooms and report on their smell.

    Which isn’t at all odd.

    We got back on the road for about 3 minutes when, all of a sudden, P pulled over on the shoulder. He looked under his truck and I could read his lips as he said what appeared to be DANG and SHOOT or maybe it was something else. And I haven’t mentioned that behind his truck he was hauling a trailer with his Polaris 4-wheel vehicle on the back.

    We didn’t look at all like the Clampetts coming to town.

    Or perhaps like a scene from Grapes of Wrath.

    He motioned for me to come get Caroline out of the truck in case oncoming cars didn’t see a huge, white Ford F350 with a 15 foot trailer attached with various hazard lights blinking like a huge beacon. So there we stood on the side of I-35, in the freezing cold, not looking at all like white trash.

    And I had to go to the bathroom.

    No, I didn’t go on the side of the road.

    But I thought about it.

    It seems that P’s muffler had started to fall off which was causing his truck to sound like he was about to start drag racing. And this wasn’t just some factory muffler, it’s some SUPER muffler with SUPER MUFFLER qualities that make your truck ten times better than an average truck. At least that’s what the salesman told us. P wanted to salvage the muffler.

    And there we stood on the side of the road. In the freezing wind. Needing to potty.

    Meanwhile, P was under the truck trying to use baling wire to reattach his overpriced muffler. It will always be a treasured memory for me.

    Finally all of us, including the muffler, got back on the road so we could reach the next exit and pull off because two guesses! I needed to go to the bathroom.

    We repeated the earlier bathroom scenario and once again, Caroline didn’t go.

    Then, about 10 minutes later, rinse and repeat.

    We head out again and drive for a lengthy 20 more minutes before P pulls over at another gas station. I didn’t know why we were stopping, but was worried we were about to lose the family inheritance, otherwise known as the muffler.

    He pulled Caroline out of the truck.

    She needed to go potty.

    Because the other three stops had been insufficient.

    All said and done it took us three and a half hours to make a one hour drive to the ranch.

    And y’all will be glad to know the muffler is still with us. It was touch and go for awhile but I think it’s going to be okay.

    And, hopefully, so will my bladder.

  • And somewhere a Solid Gold dancer is missing her jacket

    In all the excitement of the Aggies beating the hell outta t.u., I almost neglected to talk about what we did the weekend before Thanksgiving. And trust me, there is a lot to tell.

    Gulley and I took the kids to Bryan for a little thing called Santa’s Wonderland, which y’all have to admit is a catchy name for a Christmas-themed village. Much better than their original choice which was Santa’s Mediocre Village.

    We arrived in Bryan and hadn’t even gotten the bags unloaded when Nena called and told us that we had to come visit because she had something for the kids. The thing about Nena is she always has something for everyone and you never know what you’re going to get. Remember this shirt?

    Classic.

    In fact, last time I visited I just barely got out of her house without a four foot tall letter M painted gold. She had originally bought it for Gulley’s mama whose name starts with M, but for some reason Gulley’s mama declined to seize the opportunity to make a four foot tall letter M part of her décor. Nena was just sick that I left her house without that M.

    And truth be told, so was I.

    I could have found a matching P for P and hung them over the head of our bed. We’d be kind of like Laverne DeFazio, except we wouldn’t be bottlecappers for Schotz brewery.

    Anyway, we headed over to Nena’s. She was watching “What Not To Wear” and was quick to tell us the woman looked liked she needed to be ARRESTED for indecent exposure.

    I bet she forgot her stole.

    She’d bought cute snowmen for the kids and then told me she found a jacket in the back of her closet that she just had to show me. She came out holding what can only be described as something Diana Ross might have in her closet.

    Except more flamboyant.

    She wanted to know where I thought she could wear it and, other than a roller derby, I was fresh out of ideas. I told her I wasn’t sure but it was probably too dressy for breakfast. She was quick to inform me that it would be perfect for holiday shopping because really “It’s CASUAL because it has ribbed knit cuffs. IT’S LIKE A SWEATER!”

    Sure it is.

    But she was so excited about it that she let me take a picture of her modeling it and was thrilled to know it would be seen by the “MILLIONS of people who read Big Mama”.

    Yes, I have somewhere between ZERO and a million readers.

    On Sunday we went back over to Nena’s. Uncle Johnny and Uncle Glen were over at the house eating lunch. They were all abuzz about the number of folks that are leaving Central Baptist Church for First Baptist Church. It seems there has been some kind of drama. Uncle Glen says Central Baptist needs to do what his church did and start serving real wine for communion. Ever since they wheeled in that piano and started serving alcohol, attendance has skyrocketed.

    They’re up to 98 members. 98 members who enjoy imbibing while listening to a little piano music on a Sunday morning.

    Uncle Glen was also lamenting his woman troubles. He can’t seem to find a nice girl. A few minutes later he was watching Gulley’s boys play and told her, “You’d make a good cow. You drop huge stock but you don’t eat much.”

    I think I might have a clue as to why he’s having woman problems. Call me oversensitive, but it was always a dealbreaker once I was compared to livestock.

    On Sunday night we went to Santa’s Wonderland. The kids loved every minute of it.

    They played in the snow.

    They sat on Santa’s lap.

    They rode a mechanical bull.

    You can’t teach that kind of bullriding skill. It’s just inherent.

    Truth be told, I was a little concerned about the whole bullriding thing. Not because of the safety or anything, but just concerned it might start Caroline down a path that will lead to her marrying a boy whose idea of love is to have his and her license plates in the back window of his truck. And she’d have to listen to things like “Sissy, get me my cigarettes.”

    Maybe I’m just overprotective because after watching Urban Cowboy as an impressionable 5th grader, my life dream for a few years was to ride the bull at Gilley’s.

    I’m not proud.

    Anyway, they finished off the night with a hayride and cotton candy. Lots of cotton candy.

    That is pure, unmitigated joy.