Friday, July 19, 2013

Howdy

Howdy!
Greetings from Conroe, Texas! That's right....a little town, outside of Houston. Sadly, I have not seen a cowboy yet. But I'm looking....I reckon that our trip to walmart for toiletries was not where one would find a wrangler or two. I'm keeping my eyes opened and have the camera with me.



Yesterday was a big blur. After two hours of sleep, we got to the airport by 5 am to stand in a line that was so long that I thought they were giving out free money. Let's just say that security needed their morning coffee, 'cause no one was moving at a pace conducive to getting me to my 6 am flight on time. Once we got through, we ran to the gate only to find out that the flight was cancelled. Don't they share this information in a more timely manner?

Oye, so the woman at the desk rerouted our flight from Memphis to Minneapolis. As we ran to that gate, it seemed that she made a huge mistake. Tink and I were headed to Minneapolis, dad was on an Atlanta plane. Going back to the woman and getting out of another line, she placed us on the Atlanta flight (oh joy, I love Atlanta airport...not).  While waiting three hours in Atlanta, I wondered if there was an earlier flight....oh, we just missed it? Joy....let's sit here another few hours. Finally, after a few hours in the airport and one bag of peanut M&Ms, we left for Houston.

Upon arriving, the weather was hot. No worries....It's hot where we live, so there was no real difference in the temperature. I am pretty sure that most of the US is toasty.


Nonetheless, I was looking forward to seeing the big kid. Amazingly, he looked like he was in great shape, tanned, yet tired. He still had that deprecating sense of humor and made me laugh the moment I saw him. He's been working out 6-8 hours a day in a garage. Yes, a garage.....we had the opportunity to stop by the ranch and see the facilities.

Let's just say that it's 'bare bones.' In other words, there is a tin garage with the equipment, a large field, a hose for water, and a pitching cage. By the way, the bathroom facilities are rectangular and blue....that's right....they use porto-potties. Grossed out yet?

With that said, he is tired but happy. Yes, he's living his dream. If he could turn this passion into something that will pay the mortgage, then I will sit back and say "job well done....". However, if this baseball dream does not work out, is he lying about law? Is he just saying that he'll go to law school to shut us up about having a skill? Hmmmm. How well do I know this guy? After all, he does not tell me everything. Maybe he is placating me. And in that case, I should be a bit more concerned. Or, should I procrastinate and worry about it tomorrow?
Yeah. That's what I will do. Scarlet O'Hara said something about tomorrow....I'll do the same. Until then, I will enjoy the family time and see more of the Lone Star state. So far the best part is the nice people and food.

 

I'll leave you with the cautionary words of Willie Nelson:

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love

Cowboys ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold
And they'd rather give you a song than diamonds or gold
Lonestar belt buckles and old faded Levis

And each night begins a new day
And if you don't understand him and he don't die young
You'll probably just ride away

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love

Cowboys like smoky old pool rooms, clear mountain mornings
Little warm puppies and children, girls of the night
And them that don't know him won't like him and them that do

Sometimes won't know how to take him
He ain't wrong, he's just different but his pride won't let him
Do things to make you think he's right

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such

More later.....

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