After the celebrating ended I got in a pickup filled with everything I owned (minus a few books) and went on a road trip across Southern California, Arizona, New Mexico, and the greater part of Texas before winding up in Austin again. Accompanying me on this road trip (or perhaps escorting me out of the state for their own sanity) were the Bosslady (my Mama), my eldest brother, and his girlfriend. This made for many bad jokes and long, long awkward moments. I arrived in Austin on a Wednesday. When we crossed into Texas highway patrol checked our car (I suspect for any invading Mexicans. Little did they know that there were two in the front seat, i.e. my brother and my self, but apparently we don't look it. Blue eyes and rosy cheeks will do that to ya.) The nice patrol man asked us how long we were staying in Texas and what was in the back of the truck. My clever bosslady informed him that we would be there a week or so (which was true of everyone else in the car, neglecting the fact that I was moving to Austin) and that the back of the pickup was entirely filled with clothes. He narrowed his eyes and said, "the back is entirely filled with clothes?" My bosslady didn't say anything by way of explanation but hooked her thumb back and pointed to me. He turned to look at me and laughed; apparently I look like a girl who would have enough clothes to fill up a pickup for a one week trip.
The following Friday I was in a dress rehearsal for my nearesbest friend's wedding (hey that would make a great movie title.) Saturday I went to her older brother's Ordination to the priesthood. This event can only be described as "oodles and oodles of fun" from the very back of the Church where I watched while chasing around two small children, neither of whom were too keen on the idea of holding still except when they fell asleep- one in my arms and the other in the Bosslady's.
Sunday was the wedding day, dawning bright and beautiful. Several exciting things happened that morning (which I will forever be trying to forget so that I may not be disillusioned if/when I get married someday) and can only be summed up with the word "chaos." At the wedding itself (where I knew almost no one, excepting the bride, the groom, and their immediate family members) I started talking to the groom's best friend who boasted that he knew even fewer people than myself. I admit upon first meeting him at the dress rehearsal (two days before) the only thing I could think was "blue shoes... hmmm." After that I tried my best to talk to him again and eventually I managed to find something of interest to say. I'm afraid what I came up with wasn't that entertaining, but he didn't seem to mind. For the first time in my life I was greatful for all the times I have been to the emergency room because apparently they knew him by first name there too. Shortly after that, after the groom's best friend disapeared for a minute, a very drunken relative of the bride began to hit on one of the other bridesmaids and myself. At this point I decided it best to drive home rather than pick on the poor drunken cousin (I'm not a very nice person when I'm annoyed).
My drive home was punctuated by the excitement that I realized I was almost out gas, alone, on a back country road in Texas, wearing heels that did not fit, and a floor length bridemaid gown. I don't think I even had a scrunchi to tie my hair up with. So like any independent minded, problem solving, truck driving, feminist would, I called my uncle. He managed to reassure me that there was enough gas in the truck to get home and that if I didn't, I was close enough by then that he would come get me and rescue me. Ladies and gentlemen, be ye ever so humble, or ever so bold, you wil never surpass my affection for this man at that precise moment. I made it, btw.
The next morning, bright and early, my Mother headed back to California (and I haven't seen her since) but before she left she took a little piece of my heart and left me a large chunk of my sanity. With a deep breath of fresh air after my month of travel and excitement I decided that the best use of my newfound freedom would be to go back to bed; no one disagreed. And that, dear children, was the beginning of my permanent life in Texas.
I do not know what God was thinking but I intended to spend my first few months in Texas getting used to Texas with the comfort and aid of my family. This was complicated by the fact that they all jumped ship and left for Ukraine five weeks ago. Upon their arrival I will live with my godmother, her lovely husband, my favorite uncle, Jim, the cat, and their beautiful five children, three of whom I will meet for the first time on Monday. I would expand on that except that's a story for another blog. ;)
Since living here I have spent five weeks living with the cat- Jim. For a while he was my only companion and so I had many a conversation with him. What is worse is after I while I began to understand what his various cat responses meant. A long meow is that he wants me to stop whatever it is I'm doing that is bothering him. A pat on the arm mean she wants to be petted. A pat on the leg means he wants to be held. Rubbing up against my computer means he wants me to get off my computer. A short yowl means he wants to know if anyone is there. I called out to him yesterday after that and someone was over and he told me I was nuts. I am perfectly aware of this btw so it is unnecessary to tell me this. I ALREADY KNOW!!!!!!!! Sometimes I feel like Alice and that I've wandered into Wonderland but the frightful thing is- I'm not convinced that Texas is not Wonderland... where are those dodobirds? Oh yes- the Aggies.
Now that I've explained the cheshire cat and the blue shoes I think it's time to explain the yellow brick road before I forget. My grandfather once told me that he believed all Catholics were marching. We were all marching towards the kingdom of heaven. Some carried others and some lead others. Some fell away and died and new ones were brought in, but we were all marching. I feel that on this march towards God I was lead here. I'm trying to follow this grace filled path that I dare to call a road because I know others have gone before me. It may not be yellow because I've never actually dared to look back, but I do believe I'm following it- and He wants me here right now.
Haha! That's a great story. I loved the part about the Texas highway patrol and the clothes.
ReplyDelete...but really, why so many clothes? It's easier to just follow the inside-outside-sniff rule: sniff the outside--if it's smelly, where the shirt inside-out; sniff the inside--if it's smelly, and you're lazy, sniff until you can't smell anything anymore and it's all ready to wear.
A few more survival tips for Texas:
1) The people here are incredibly friendly, creepily so. Whatever you do though, don't talk politics with them. If they hear you say one bad word about Democrats, they will embrace you as a comrade and unload a thousand of their personal conspiracy theories on why those jack@$$&$ are so evil.
2) Don't mention the toll roads. They put them in just 5 years ago, many on roads we'd already paid for with our tax dollars and we're stark raving mad about it. A freeway is called that for a reason...the Democrats are to blame...
3) You will be invited to more church dinners than you knew ever existed.
4) People love country music around here. You don't have to, but like me, you'll have to lay low about it if you want to avoid awkward stares.
5) Don't tell people you're from California. If we could vote on where a planet-killing asteroid should impact, we'd choose San Francisco. However, tell folks you're from one of the Dakotas or from Wyoming and they'll revere you as a goddess. Be sure to mention growing up on a farm, or if you want dates, a ranch.
6) Never trust anyone who always wears a cowboy hat in public.
7) If you go downtown, talk to Kinky if you see him. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kinky_Friedman
8) Everyone mysteriously knows everyone else around here, even in the big cities. You'll either become a paranoid schizophrenic, or you'll get used to it.
10) Get some kind of Republican bumper sticker. Or, if you want to roll with the cool nonconformist kids, tell folks you're Libertarian.