Tuesday, January 16, 2018
Texas is hot. Hot as hell. Hot to the point where a saying like, "Sweating like a whore in church" rolls off my tongue over 100 times a year. 90 degrees is nothing to us. A heat index under 115 degrees means we kick our children outside to play for hours. As long as they have water, they won't dehydrate.
We do heat. We do not own proper coats, hats, mittens, gloves, scarves, etc. Those of us that own Uggs or boots did it for fashion, and let's be real fucking honest here - Uggs are ugly but holy shit, they are the most comfortable shoes.
So when it gets cold, freezing temps and below, our city FREAKS. The media has catchy, fear mongering titles like "Winter Storm Coming!," and "Icemageddon." Words such as wintry mix and cold have exclamation points and are in all capitals. Freezing temps are dangerous here if precipitation joins the cold.
Which brings me to my point. We are on our 13th day of missed school due to weather. That number is not even a joke. It is legit. And it is as annoying as a crying baby at 3 in the morning. First was Hurricane Harvey and now we have ice and snow. Texas doesn't do ice. Go ahead and make fun of us Canada and Chicago, it's okay. We are Texas, we don't give a shit.
In Texas, we are not equipped to salt and sand all our roadways. We are a BIG state, much bigger than your stupid sized state, Rhode Island. If the roads are iced over, our drivers, who suck on a normal day, die. Our idiot drivers will ignore all warnings and get on the road and crash. This is Texas. We don't do ice and we don't listen. Everything is bigger in Texas, including our morons.
Because every state has its fair share of idiots, we must cancel school. Our buses cannot risk one of our rogue ass hats crashing into it and potentially killing the students on the bus. For fuck's sake, the damn airports are closed and people are still bitching how the school districts are closed. Do you want to be responsible for a bus crashing? I sure as hell don't. Err on the side of caution. Working parents, yes this is more of a nuisance for you, except on days like this. The damn city is shut down. The fucking hospitals cancelled outpatient appointments. The city is shut. Everyone is supposed to stay home because again, Texas doesn't do cold, ice, sleet, snow. We do heat. We do hurricanes. So stay home with your kids. Don't be an ass hat. Don't be a moron. Don't be the next person I see on the news who "braved the icy roads." During hurricane season and thunderstorms we say "Don't drown, turn around" to remind you all to stay home. Here is your winter saying, "Don't roll the dice, stay away from the ice." Good lord, we need a damn slogan for people to stay home...My eyes hurt from rolling.
I get it. Our kids are on our last nerves. And these Texas kids cannot go play outside because they are made to play in heat and while their bodies can handle 100 plus degrees, if it dips below 50 these little shits start crying about frostbite.
I feel your pain. My kids are home and if you read my blog on the regular you know I would love to home school and you know I love breaks from school. BUT....when it happens all of a sudden the break in routine does more harm than I care to admit. My kids act like they've never been home before. They have a cabinet of arts & crafts, a television, Netflix, a playroom filled with toys, iPads, and each other...and yet, somehow these little spoiled brats are bored. Cry me a fucking river.
To my fellow Texans that are home, pour a glass of wine and relax. To my friends in other states making fun of us for freaking out about iced roads, come live here during hurricane season and I will watch you shit your pants at the first thunderstorm as I drive in the pouring rain and our swim team still holds practice.
Texas, I love you. And you can stay closed for as long as you need. My love for you will never die.
Tuesday, January 9, 2018
My husband is not my best friend. Sorry readers, he just isn't. I love him. I even like him, but after 16 years of marriage, he is not my best friend.
Who are my best friends? My girlfriends. I need my girls. I really do. We talk on the phone, go on walks together, get dinner, lunch, or coffee. We talk about our kids, religion, politics, the crazy bus driver, the neighbor with the shitty lawn, and the neighborhood Facebook page that is better than any real housewives show. And yes, we discuss our BRAVO shows too!
Some of my favorite friends do not live in the same city as I do, so we schedule girls' trips. The kiddos stay home with the husbands, grandparents, or a baby sitter. A weekend for just us friends. What happens that weekend is awesome. We eat, drink, talk, all in person! We hug, laugh, cry, roll eyes, smile, all in person! People need people. I need people. The phone and social media are not enough for me.
To all my girlfriends - thank you for your friendship and thank you for making time for girls' trips.
Thank you for using Waze vs Google Maps and driving us through areas of the state that look straight out of a horror movie and make me think about how many dead bodies are out in the remote area.
Thank you for stopping on the side of the road so I could pee in a fucking cup. My thighs might touch, but man can they squat and allow for a successful pee in the cup experience.
Thank you for having a pool so we could lay out without going somewhere.
Thank you for willingly splitting the bill evenly every time. Pretty sure we wouldn't be friends if you were one of those damn people saying your meal was less.
Thank you for making reservations at a restaurant that are appealing to all of us - even our meat and potato friend.
Thank you for introducing me to pickle shots.
Thank you for suggesting the bar after dinner because even though at 40 we all could have gone home, we needed to rally and party like the college girls we once were.
Thank you for staying up until 2:30 in the morning to have a conversation.
Thank you for the countless conversations.
Thank you for leaving your work day early because our weekend started.
Thank you for driving six hours to meet us.
Thank you for flying on a plane to join us.
Thank you for the profanity filled conversations because let's face it, any friend of mine has a mouth like a fucking sailor. They just hide it better than I do.
Thank you for ordering that weird dish that I made fun of and then ate it all.
Thank you for compromising on the weekend's events so that all of us did something we chose.
Thank you for giving me the affirmations I needed.
Thank you for telling me like it is.
Thank you for loving me.
Thank you for understanding the value of friendship.
Thank you for your love of Garth Brooks.
I love my annual girls' trips. While I barely get any sleep, they leave me empowered and full of energy, ready to face my role of wife and mother with a renewed outlook. These weekends allow me to release the inner party girl that gets locked up most of the time.
Until next time, best friends!