Entry #23

Entry #23

Monday, November 14

9:00 p.m. I can’t exactly say “the shit hit the fan” tonight because there was no fan involved, but it did hit the door, the floor, the outside of the toilet bowl, and even the carpet in the adjacent room. None of us could figure out what happened, since the toilet appears to be working. Perhaps there's a poltergeist in the loo? I, of course, got to deal with the aftermath.

Tuesday, November 15

9:30 a.m. While waiting at the doctor’s office this morning, I chatted with a medical assistant who told me he was feeling great until he ate some fast food. I asked him if he ever saw the documentary, Fast Food Nation, and told him a story I heard about a man who left a Wendy’s cheeseburger in his car by accident and discovered it two weeks later in exactly the same condition—no smell, not even a speck of mold.

He told me that the nutritionist in the medical practice actually has possession of a McDonald’s Happy Meal that’s nearly two years old (receipt included). It looks nearly fresh. This makes me wonder: If the preservatives in fast food keep the food looking fresh indefinitely, why hasn’t McDonald’s started a skin care line so humans can stay "fresh looking" too? I could be on to something.

2:45 p.m. I just received an automated call from the Conroe School District alerting me that Buckalew School is having a rainy day dismissal. My kids do not attend nor have ever attended this school. In fact, I never even heard of Buckalew Elementary before getting the call (and had to look up the spelling, since it sounded like Buckloo). I’ve received several calls in the last few months alterting me that [random name] didn’t come to [random Conroe school] today. So much for the efficacy of automation.

7:00 p.m. While loading the dishwasher, the whole appliance nearly fell out of the wall. I wasn’t even loading it with pots and pans—just the usual glasses and plates. This house is really discombobulating.

Wednesday, November 16

9:30 a.m. I picked up a few groceries from the market near the kids’ school after drop-off, and saw an elderly man simultaneously pushing and pulling two shopping carts that were filled to the brim. I asked if I could push one for him and he politely declined. A white-haired woman who had seen this brief exchange held up her hands and proclaimed, “Lord have mercy! An everyday angel is in our midst!” then walked into the store. I quietly asked the man again if I could help him, just to be sure, to which he replied, “Hon, I’ve been doing this for years.”

10:00 a.m. After the grocery store, I ventured to the “secret” post office that’s housed in our nearby Ace Hardware store. With the holidays upon us, Ace has expanded its gift options. How about some patriotic coasters? A mug painted with “Merry Christmas Y’All!”? Perhaps a handy apron for the “meat and potatoes kind’a guy” in your life?

There was an entire display devoted to a Dallas-based product called “Poo Pourri.” Its slogan reads, “Spritz the bowl before you go, and no one else will ever know.” It comes with a decorative chain adorned with a “P” (for Poo, I can only assume). The label features a cherub sitting on the toilet while blowing on a plunger. If someone can market and sell a concoction for spraying the toilet bowl after defecating, then really, anything is possible.

Thursday, November 17

12:30 p.m. Since David’s birthday is coming soon, we made a “date” to go shopping for a sport coat last night, since his other one mysteriously disappeared en route to Texas. Upon entering the department store, we saw a man wearing a t-shirt printed with a design similar to Obama’s “Hope” poster, only this one featured President Reagan and the word “Right.” Does this mean Reagan was right about something? Or that we should go right? Veer right? Hmmm...

We found David a snazzy blazer in record time, and then spotted some shoes that he wanted to try on. (David’s not crazy about shopping, but he does like shoes). The salesman starting chatting with us and we soon learned he was from South Boston, was a military policeman in the army, loves San Francisco, thinks Houston drivers are horrible, and is a Democrat.

After telling us he had to “bite his tongue a lot” (politically speaking), he said he just saw a guy wearing a t-shirt that said, “Miss me yet?” with a picture of President Bush. I told him about the one I’d just seen. Seems people wear their political views not so much on their sleeves as their torsos.

This morning I stopped at Hubbell & Hudson, with hopes of finding some local goodies to bring home to my family in Ohio (other than Poo-pourri, from which I refrained). Besides an overpriced box of chocolates called Longhorns and countless salsas, which my folks don't really like, I couldn’t find many products from Texas. I did manage to find a few tasty treats like local honey and pecans, but noticed that a remarkable number of items (especially produce) come from California.

Entry #22

Entry #22

Sunday, November 13

I was right. Saturday Night Live did, in fact, open with a parody reenacting Perry’s now infamous “Oops” debate. I do feel sorry for Perry in a way because this major gaffe will trail him wherever he goes. But the fact that he remains the governor of Texas is a sorrier situation still. How did he make it this far? Perhaps being a man of few words worked to his advantage while campaigning in the Lone Star State.

8:00 a.m. Everyone (including Izzie) was up early this morning. Rather than get back in the car, and go somewhere they wanted to stay at home, especially since the pool was finally warmed up. 

3:00 p.m. Noah’s friends, Ian and Daichi, just left with David to go back to the airport—what a quick trip! It was great while it lasted. I haven't heard Noah laugh so much in months.

Even though they are now officially teens (13, nearly 14), Noah's friends were remarkably polite, helpful, and appreciative. Describing a teen in these terms sounds like an oxymoron, but it’s really true (at least for now...we’ll see what happens when they turn 15).

The kids would’ve been happy just hanging around the house yesterday, but we thought we should show them around Houston, since they'd never been here before. Daichi suggested going to the NASA Space Center, but the idea was vetoed by the other two boys, as were the other museums and the zoo. Where to go? We were stumped.

After searching online, we happened upon a place called Track 21 that offers laser tag, go-kart racing, a video arcade and the like. Everyone seemed to like the idea, so we drove 40 minutes to get there, only to find a rather dilapitated place (the “T” was missing from the sign), overly loud go-karts, and no option of participating because they were completely booked. It was a mighty funky place.

So, for the second time since Noah’s friends’ arrival, we found ourselves in yet another “disreputable” area with no idea of what to do. Luckily David's car has a GPS, so we could get directions, if only we could determine where to go.

As David drove towards Houston, the neighborhoods became incrementally nicer, though since there’s no zoning in Houston, there's little logic to the city's layout. Houses, shopping centers, medical complexes, apartment buildings and Rice University intersect like a crazy quilt.

We drove completely around the periphery of the museum district before we found a place to park and explore Hermann Park, which proved to be a good call. With its fountains and statue and grassy sprawl, it looks like a slice of Europe in the middle of Houston.

There were lots of families hanging around, playing, having picnics. One dad and daughter “sledded” down the grassy knoll on Spooner Boards, which looked like fun. Other kids simply rolled down the hill. Aidan had fun tossing the football he'd brought with him. The simply joys of open space...

As we headed toward the fountain, we noticed an abundance of squirrels. They weren't just your run-of-the-mill squirrels, however. They were HUGE. We watched the largest of the squirrels snatch an acorn from his neighbor, resulting in a mad chase up and down and across the trees. I guess everything really is bigger in Texas, and the squirrels at Hermann Park are no exception.

After walking around the park for awhile, we asked the kids where they wanted to go for dinner. Since the boys are fans of J. R. R. Tolkien, they were curious to try The Hobbit Café. When we arrived, Daichi observed that this quirky place “could definitely be in Berkeley,” which is perhaps why we feel so comfortable there.

Even though everyone was completely stuffed after wolfing down their buffalo burger, mahi mahi tacos and the like, David suggested we check out a place called The Chocolate Bar. We didn't eat anything, but it was a feast for the eyes nonetheless.

The walls one one side are lined with rows and rows of candy. In the back are birthday cakes made entirely of wrapped candies and chocolates (and Barbie doll torsos). The Chocolate Bar also house a café, ice cream shop, and make-your-own chocolate bar station, too. It's a sweet tooth's paradise.

Monday, November 14

10:00 a.m. On this morning’s walk with Izzie, I met a who lived in Boston and Vermont before coming here. After learning that I’d just moved from San Francisco, she felt comfortable sharing the fact that not only was she a Democrat, but that she also put a sign up on her lawn supporting Obama during the ’08 campaign. She said that upon seeing her lawn sign, some of her once-friendly neighbors stopped talking to her and have avoided her ever since.

Izzie enjoyed playing with her dog, Althea, as well as a nine-week old lab pup named Snoopy, who was following his owner obediently. He was a mellow, roly-poly little pup with huge paws. Very cute. I was hoping he’d follow me instead of his preoccupied owner, who was chatting on her phone.

11:00 a.m. Since David’s birthday is coming up soon, I thought I would bop around the Market Square in search of a gift for him. Market Square is a shopping area designed to emulate the old-fashioned charm of a small town, even though it's completely new and contrived (a faux town square, if you will). Most stores there are chains, but it's more appealing and less overwhelming than The Mall, which I avoid if at all possible. The entire square is now fully adorned with Christmas decorations, highlighted by a gigantic Christmas tree.

One store I happened upon offers all kinds of personalized gifts, including those dedicated entirely to football fans, either “Aggies” (fans of University of Texas, Austin) or Texas A&M. This gift encapsulates Texans' devotion to church and state:

After not finding anything at Market Square, I decided to brave The Mall and see if I could find any birthday-worthy gifts. After looking in Dillard's, I happened upon a store called “Y’Alls Texas Store,” took a quick spin inside. The place features “things truly Texas” (and truly tacky). It's remarkable how many items are made in the shape of this state, from earrings to key chains to puzzles, and even a waffle iron. Yes, you, too, can make waffles shaped like the Lone Star State! If you'd like some meat with your meal, pick up a can or two of armadillo meat, "taste tested and approved by Bubba himself!"

Entry #21

Entry #21

Wednesday, November 9

9:00 a.m. I turned on the radio after dropping the kids off at school and heard a commercial about home schooling. “Who do you want to disciple your child? Public schools teach immorality and bullying....” That’s some heavy-handed propaganda...

I caught the end of a piece on NPR about a family living in a place where toxic vapors from nearby chemical plants cause them to frequently go indoors. The mom sounded oddly cavalier about the whole thing, saying something like, “Well, when we get a warning about the chemicals in the air, I just call in my kids, close the windows and doors and they play inside...” 

Izzie has officially entered adolescence, and now displays selective hearing. When I dropped off the kids this morning, she started to climb out the window. (Luckily she was already on a leash, so she didn’t succeed, but still...) Our walks around the reserve have gotten longer, with hopes that I’ll actually tire out my fluffy white beast.

While moseying through the woods today, we first passed a friendly Rhodesian Ridgeback. We stopped a few minutes to play, but the owner needed to go, so that was that. The next dog we saw was very eager to play with Izzie, but the owner was not. “Could you please take your dog? I’m trying to make a certain time here!” After this unpleasantry, we happened upon a black-and-white poodle mix who came up to greet Izzie. The owner yelled, “C’mon, Tina! We don’t have time to play!” Evidently, Tina needed to get to work.

11:00 a.m. I decided to take Izzie into the new PetCo that opened right near our house, just to check it out. Besides having some interesting birds and fish, it’s basically the same ol’ PetCo you’d find anywhere else.

There was one thing, however, I’d never seen before: dozens of bulk bins along the check-out line—the perfect placement for impulse purchases, or grazing by kids and canines alike. Several items looked just like regular human cookies—vanilla cream, carob chip, cranberry biscotti. The only difference between these items and the ones across the street at HEB was the fact that they didn’t contain chocolate.

Since when are cookies good for dogs? I wonder if this is an extension of the whole “doggie bakery” craze nowadays. If you want to get a dog a real treat, get thee to the butchery, not the bakery.

4:00 p.m. I opened a magazine to see that the reality show, Top Chef, is heading to Texas.

 In Episode One, Group One has to cook pork — from a pig broken down into its primal cuts. Each cheftestant gets to choose from the loin, back, cheeks, ears, etc., and they’ve got an hour to cook. They’ll be judged on their butchering technique and cooking skills. 

The second group had to choose one ingredient...and they chose rabbit.

5:30 p.m. While walking Izzie around the neighborhood, I heard an awful crunching sound that was unmistakably a car accident. Since I was nearby, I ran towards the scene to make sure no one was hurt. Luckily, both parties were fine, though one car, a white Prius, was completely smashed in on the passenger side.

I stayed at the scene to make sure everyone was okay and witnessed the interchange. The woman who crashed into the man said in a remarkably calm voice, “I was trying to avoid you. You turned right in front of me,” to which the man responded, “Yes, ma’am. You had a stop sign.”

Since the man driving the now-smushed Prius lived close by and his car could still run, he didn’t need my help, nor did the woman who ran the stop sign, so Izzie and I walked back home. Still, it was relieving to see something like this happen without arguement, with complete courtesy, and luckily, no injury.

Thursday, November 10

11:00 a.m. After his “epic brain freeze” last night, Rick Perry is all but out of the presidential race.

“Perry fell flat on his face Wednesday night in a way that is likely not redeemable, even by a good natured attempt on Perry’s part to poke fun at himself and to proactively go on all five morning TV shows.” —Huffington Post, 11/10/11

“Yeah, I stepped in it, man. Yeah, it was embarrassing. Of course it was,” he said. “But here’s what’s more important. People understand that our principles, our conservative principles, are what matter.”

—Rick Perry, 11/09/11

I’m willng to bet that writers at Saturday Night Live are feverishly planning an opening skit based on Perry’s now infamous debate flop. I kind of feel sorry for him on a human level, but it’s hard to be sympathetic towards someone who’s so ignorant about the current state of our environment and educational systems.

Friday, November 11

Noon (I should’ve written at 11:11, but missed my chance): It’s 11/11/11 today and  also Veteran’s Day. I was reminded of this holiday when driving down the street this morning. Almost every house had an American flag waving proudly in front of it. 

Aidan asked what Veteran’s Day was and I told him, then noticed that ours seemed to be the only street that was lined with flags. “I guess we have more veterinarians on our street,” he said.

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.