Our trip to the beach had some ups and downs, as most vacations do. Here's the good and bad, to be followed soon by photos ...
Continue reading Words today, pictures tomorrow.
July 2007 Archives
... pure bliss.
We got back from our weeklong beach adventure last night. I'll have more later, including photos (I mostly shot film for some reason), tips for those planning to likewise rent a house on stilts and the high- and lowlights of our trip. Wish we were there.
We're starting to pack up for our six days at the beach next week. This will be the first time all four of us will be taking a vacay together, just us. We might have lunch one day with the Petite Filet's aunt and uncle who live nearby, but otherwise we will be chillin' it nuclear-family style.
Here are some of the things I need to do to get ready:
• Make sure all my brown and black socks are clean so I can wear them with sandals next week.
• Be on the lookout for the most embarrassing souvenir-stand T-shirt I can find. I'll buy it and refuse to wear anything but it when we're out and about.
• Apply sunscreen in interesting patterns on my skin so the sunexposure will make sayings pop out on my arms. I'm thinking I'll write "left" on my right arm and "right" on my left arm, just to be a rebel. On the Petite Filet's back? How about "I'm with stupid." On the kids? A numeral "1" for the oldest and then a "2" for the baby.
• Speaking of weird tan lines, I'll hop on my bike in the mornings to put some miles in. Bike gloves do create a weird pattern on the flesh!
• Enjoy some homemade margaritas while out on the balcony. Have burping contests with the PF.
• Try not to get the minivan stuck in the sand. We'd take my car but the interior room is lacking compared to The Egg.
• Not think about work.
• Remember to not pack the laptop.
• Relearn how to relax.
Hitting 36,000 miles on my car (which, by the photo, you can see will probably happen on my drive home) isn't that big a deal, except that the basic factory warranty will expire. I'm not big on warranties, though, instead pinning my hope on having bought a solid car that will be reliable and free from strange problems for a reasonable amount of time.
In my history of automobile ownership, this has been true (knock on simulated wood trim). So I won't be shelling out a few hundred bucks to protect me against problems that will hopefully never surface. You rolls the dice, you takes your chance. Below is a timeline of cars I have owned. Since just before I turned 16, I have always owned a car – a testimony to my part of Texas being near impossible to navigate without some form of motorized, personal transport.
1. 1980 Mercury Monarch, owned 1989-1993
Ran cold, had an 8-track player, interior was ALL red, had a gigantic hood ornament
2. 1985 BMW 318i, owned 1993-1997
Fun to drive, bright red, expensive to fix, got hailed on
3. 1995 Isuzu Rodeo, owned 1997-2005
Great truck, owned for 8 years, backed into a light pole, took on wedding trip and honeymoon, towed grandfather's old boat from Virginia, drove Cutlet home from the hospital, still see it around town driven by new owner
4. 2005 Subaru Outback
Fun, zippy and safe; as useful as an SUV but with good mileage; never thought I'd drive a station wagon
This list does not include the 1988 Acura Legend the Petite Filet had when we got married, the 2001 Ford Mustang GT we replaced it with, the 1998 Dodge Ram pickup we replaced the Mustang with, or the 2007 Mazda 5 the PF drives now.
The Petite Filet took the boys up to Oklahoma last week (she had the entire week off in honor of July 4th; I had to work). Usually, whenever she visits her family up there, which includes her parents, her youngest sister, all her living grandparents, aunts and uncles and a smattering of cousins, she gets the itch to move up there. I'm hoping that itch wears off like it usually does.
There's nothing inherently wrong with Oklahoma, mind you, but I'm not a big fan of the area. If we were to pick up our lives and move them 300 or so miles, I would hope our surroundings would improve. Besides having a larger network of blood relatives (at least hers), there's not a real compelling reason to start collecting cardboard boxes. When we move, I want to be somewhere cool that makes life better. And could I really be Oklahoma T-bone? I don't know. Any relocation is in the five-year plan, particularly because we still aren't on common ground when it comes to the destination.
OK, so her parents do have a lake house. Sadly, I missed the Cutlet catching his first fish, but I've seen the pics and heard the stories. Not too strangely, the size of the fish keeps getting bigger with each retelling
I think it's hilarious and slightly disturbing that people – any people – think getting married on 7-7-07 will bring them some kind of luck. When tying the knot, the most imporant number would be 1, as in finding the right one. It matters not on what date people marry, just that they're marrying the right person at the right time in both their lives. And even having all those right doesn't give anyone a guarantee for a healthy, strong marriage. People change. Things happen. Thinking that the date of the event amounts to anything but trivia is stupid beyond belief.
There's nothing wrong with getting married tommorrow, so long as the main reason the date was chosen is that it falls on a Saturday, or that it is kind of "fun" or whatever. We all know people married on Wednesdays are esentially doomed for divorce.
And now, for married couples who love to argue ...
According to two studies published this week, men and women talk about the same amount. What the research does not show is that some people, regardless of sex, basically have nothing to say but use up large amounts of silence and oxygen talking about worthless crap. My own study shows that these are people who wear those wireless headsets for their cell phones, turning themselves into mindless, self-important robots. Sans headset, they are the folks who can't motor out of their driveways without gluing a phone to their ears. This obnoxoius behavior is bound only by the human imagination.
It's still raining. It didn't rain much yesterday on the 4th, but it still rained. Today it has done little else except rain. I awoke this morning to the sound of it raining. Bad because I really needed to mow the lawn, and tall, wet grass is more stubborn than a constipated mule. During a brief break in the drops, I got the front yard cut after what seemed like a year, and then it started raining again.
There are sandbags in front of the garage, where the driveway dips a bit. During a deluge, that's where it flows into the garage. Enough flow in there, and it hops the little step up to the door and into the kitchen (where there was nearly a half-inch when I got home Friday). Really, we're blessed because we live on a hill, so the damage is minimal compared to people in my city who've lost their entire homes and contents. Or have had to pull up carpet. Or don't know where their cars floated off to. Still, the weather and its effects have left me whiney.
Normally, rain here this time of year is:
• Rare
• Welcome
• Brief
• Romantic***
• Cool to watch
• Fun to drive in
With coming up on nearly a month of the stuff, it is:
• Stupid
• Worn out its welcome
• Anger-inducing
• Sickening to see
• Dangerous to drive in
Here's the local newspaper's Web site. It's big news around here. Where's my umbrella? Oh yeah, in the Gulf of Mexico by now.
***There was heavy rain and thunderstorms the night the Petite Filet got married. Up until lately, precipitation was almost enough to get us both in the mood for a little, uh, something. So much for that!
Texas is supposed to be dry and hot this time of year. But lately we've been warm and soggy, thanks to near-record rainfall in June and more unwelcome precip so far in July. We've had nothing but wacky weather this year anyway, with some snow, a tornado/hailstorm and flooding. Where's our scorching desert-like climate? Me and a ga-million people are wishing hard for it.
We've been blessed; our house is near the top of a hill. We had some water in our kitchen on June 18 (up to seven inches of rain fell in less than an hour), and water a few times in our garage. That, and the humid air turning a partial loaf of bread into mold and ruining my appetite for toast for as long as I can imagine. But nothing major compared to people who have lost their homes. We all want dry heat (not to be confused with dry heaves).
It's wildfire season in parts of the land, and some of Florida is limping through an oddball drought. But it could always be worse. So, how's the weather where you are?
