Tag Archives: Texas

Sweating in Texas ……

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…… has been in full force this past week.

On Tuesday I’m heading to Waco to visit Daughter #2 and Little Man* and the temperature is predicted to be 97 degrees.
Every day.
All week.
Holy crap.

I told D2 that LM, the dogs and I would NOT be spending any time in the park.
Nary a minute.

But in spite of temperatures from hell slightly high heat, I’m very excited.
I love being able to stay home with Little Man while she works during the day. I can hardly wait to get there!

To top it off …… he turns one this week so I’m feeling very blessed to be able to be there. And of course D2 is having a birthday party for him.
It’s hard to believe it’s been an entire year already.
A year full of blessings for both of them.
She bought a house, moved, and got a promotion.
They’ve made quite a few trips …… from one end of the country to the other. He’s a pretty well-traveled little man. 🙂

Gracie Lou is doing well. She seems to love having the extra room to run in our Texas home.
She still doesn’t enjoy it when I leave the house without her. In fact, I think it’s pretty sad that she goes and hides in her crate …… every time I take a shower.
Sad that I apparently only take showers when I’m going to leave the house.
Whatever.
Don’t judge me.
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Daughter #3 is doing well in Austin and enjoying her new job. She and her BF drove over yesterday for the day. It was nice to spend some time with them. I’ll get to see them (and her dog, Jake, whom I haven’t seen in almost a year) next weekend for the birthday party. And Son #1 and hopefully Son #2. Whoop!

I also got to spend some time with my Mom and D on Friday. I met them for lunch and a movie (“Everest” — I don’t really recommend it unless you’re in the mood to be depressed). It was nice to be with them, too.

Before I came down this time I had pretty much decided to sell the house this year and live in NY 100% of the time.
And who knows, I may still do that.
But as I sat in the airport and on the plane coming here, I started to re-think that idea. I remembered how very much I love this house.
And I really do.
I wish I could move it to Waco. That would definitely be closer to the other Texas kids, as well as the Oklahoma-for-now kid.
Of course, I’d also have to move the Houston airport because it’s beyond convenient for the NY trips.
But it appears that both the house and the airport are firmly planted, so, for now, I’m keeping the house as “vacation home”.
And yes, it is kind of sad that my vacation home is in Houston.
I knew that’s what you were thinking.

Of course, if you know me well then you know that I’ll probably change my mind next week.
And the week after that.
And so on and so forth.

I’d say it’s a woman’s prerogative/widow-brain thing, but I think it’s gone way beyond that now.
It does keep life interesting though.
🙂

I think that’s it for now. I have to go to bed so that my body will be well-rested for another sweaty day.
Don’t mock me …… sweating profusely takes a lot out of a girl.
And more out of a woman of a certain age.

I know this was a riveting post.
I hope your heart withstood the excitement.

Later, Peeps.
Stay cool.

*Daughter #2 prefers the name, “Little Man”, so I’m using that instead of “Little Bit”.
I have to say …… since he’s not so little anymore, Little Man is a better name. 🙂

Deep In The Storms ……

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…… of Texas.

The weather in Houston caused our plane in NY to be delayed for about 40 minutes, which really wasn’t all that bad.
Unless you’re hunched over in your seat while keeping one hand inside a pet carrier, trying to make sure that your cat isn’t dying, or already dead.
Seriously.

My flight was scheduled to leave at 1:00 p.m. and I was being picked up at 11:00 a.m., so I gave Oliver his prescription sedative at around 10:15. I gave him a double dose, just as I did back in October when we flew to NY (which the vet said I could do if the single dose wasn’t effective).
The double dose wasn’t as effective as I, or the driver who picked me up at the airport, would’ve liked.

But this morning he seemed to calm down pretty rapidly. I was able to put him in his carrier without getting claw marks on my arms and bits of black fur all over my white blouse (I have no idea why I almost ALWAYS wear a white top when I have to take him somewhere. None.).

He was pretty quiet on the trip to the airport. But he seemed pretty ticked off that I disturbed his drugged-induced nap when I had to take him out of the carrier and carry him through security.
And he let me, and everyone within the same zip code, know about it.
I felt like that person who’s carrying a crying baby down the aisle of the plane, while everyone refuses to make eye contact, in hopes that will cause her to keep walking past their row.

But as soon as I sat down at the gate to wait for the boarding process to begin, he stopped yowling. The silence was indeed …… golden.
But after about 5 minutes I got a bad feeling and couldn’t concentrate on the book I was reading.
So I unzipped the carrier a bit and put my hand in to pet him. And he didn’t move a muscle. I could feel the panic rising inside me, up to my throat, all the while trying to not let anyone know, and trying to see if he was breathing.
I couldn’t feel him breathing at all. He didn’t respond to anything I did …… rubbing his head, rubbing his feet or rubbing his stomach, which he hates.
He didn’t move.
And I suddenly knew that he had died.
Because I gave him a double dose.

I didn’t know what to do. Should I take the carrier on board and deal with this once I was in Houston? Should I say something to one of the gate agents? Should I wrap him in a bag and leave him in a bathroom trash bin?!
My mind was paralyzed and yet racing at the same time. And I was trying very hard to not cry in front of all those strangers.

My hand remained inside the carrier, petting him and praying that he’d be ok.
The last time I prayed that prayer things didn’t turn out so well.
To say the least.

But after a few minutes I noticed that his ears still felt warm. As did his feet. I knew that if he had really died, that wouldn’t be the case. So I just kept rubbing him, and feeling his ears. Then, right before we started boarding, I heard a little meow.
I cannot express the relief that I felt.

I was so fixated on getting him on the plane and continuing to rub and talk to him, that I sat in the wrong seat on the plane. The woman whose seat I was in said, none too kindly, “Excuse me!” I was bent over, one hand in the carrier, talking to Oliver when she said that. I looked up at her and she said, again, none too kindly, “That’s MY seat!” I was a bit confused and then realized that I had sat down in the row in front of my seat. So I got up, picked up my bag and the carrier and almost unleashed all of the emotions I had experienced in the last 30 minutes (panic, grief, confusion, relief, elation, worry) on her. But instead, I paused and then said, as sarcastically as I could, “Sorry!”
She saw the carrier and then suddenly got all syrupy and said, “Oh, that’s ok. I’ve done it before, too.”
Who knew that the sight of a pet carrier could calm the savage beast?

The flight was uneventful and Oliver slept for almost all of it, pretty much like last time, only he was much more sedated this time. I kept checking him throughout the flight.
And, just like last time, the drugs started wearing off right about the time we started to descend.

By the time we got off of the plane, he was yowling again.
Louder than ever.
Which thoroughly entertained everyone in the women’s restroom.
Not so much.

My friend Michele picked us up at the airport, and thankfully, he went back to sleep in her car.

He’s now hiding under my bed. This is the first time he’s been in this house so I imagine he’ll check it out a little at a time. He comes out from under the bed when I go into the bedroom, and he follows me around in there, but as soon as I head towards the door, he heads for the bed. And stays under it until I come back.

Thank goodness cats can’t write blogs.

Life Goes On ……

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…… as does blogging.

Sometimes it starts with a new place.  As it has with me.                                                            And this blog.

I’ve moved from Texas to New York.  If anyone would’ve told me 5 years ago that I’d be living here, in NYC, on my own, I would’ve told them that they were crazy.  After Jim died, I knew that I would never leave Texas, never leave our community.                                                               It’s funny how time changes things.  And people. Some for worse.  And some for better.        I’ve been through both.  On many levels.  But now, in my second Part A, I’m seeing mostly better.

So I’m living in NY.  Mostly.  I still have a home in Texas and so I have to go back there periodically.  But I don’t stay long.  I don’t miss much about Texas.  It’s a very bittersweet place for me now.  My husband and I lived there for 16 1/2 years.  And it was mostly wonderful.  I never wanted to live in Texas.  In fact, I told him that I would live almost anywhere, but not there.                                                                                                                                            God has a big sense of humor, does He not?

Not long after telling Jim that I wouldn’t live in Texas, he was transferred there.  And so we moved.  And I hated it.  Hugely.  For the first year.  It took me that long to know that everything would be ok.  One full year.  That would later be a guide for me.  The “one full year” ruler.  If I could survive for a full year, then I knew I’d be ok.  Not that I used that ruler after Jim died.  I knew better than that.  I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that I’d be ok after only a year.  No way.  No how.                                                                                                                                      It took more like five.

And here I am …… almost six years out, and I’m ok.  In fact, I’m more than ok.  I’m really living.  And living as fully as I can.                                                                                                             Jim would be very proud.  I know I am.                                                                                         Not that life is perfect.  No life is.  These past 6 years have taken a toll on me, my children and our family.  But it was what it was.  And it is what it is.  Children are still growing up.  And maturing.  Sometimes that’s a very, very hard road.  For everyone involved.  Add to that a dead parent, and the road is almost impossible to traverse.  I know this much …… it’s impossible to come out of it unchanged.

I am changed.  My children are changed.  Our family is changed.  I never saw any of this coming.  I never pictured our family looking the way it looks today.  Thankfully.                         But it is our family.  For good and for bad.  It’s my family.

So again, here I am in NY.  And I love it.  Very, very much.  I’m starting the second part of my life here.  I don’t know how long I’ll live here.  Or if I’ll ever live here full time.  But I do know, that for now …… right now …… it’s where I want to be.  This city has been described as resilient, energetic and optimistic.                                                                                                                 So it’s the right place for me.                                                                                                        Because now …… 6 years later …… so am I.

🙂