Two Weeks in Texas

So, two weeks ago last Tuesday (July 1 for the math challenged), I received a call from my parents telling me that tests showed that my 93-year-old grandfather's carotid artery was 95% blocked. He also had at least one mild stroke about a month ago. His doctor recommended surgery despite the risks and told my family that a decision needed to be made immediately and that they needed to call his office first thing in the morning to let him know what was decided. My folks told me that the decision was made to go ahead with surgery and they expected it to happen within the week. I got off the phone with them and immediately bought an open-ended plane ticket home to Texas for the very next day.

That Thursday (July 3), we took PaDad in for an arteriogram and waited all day to get the results. Apparently, the doc usually calls them around 5:30, but when 5:00 rolled around on the day before a holiday, I suggested that my dad go ahead and call the doc's office before everyone took off early. Too late. The receptionist was still there, but the doc and the surgeon had both left early to enjoy their 4th of July holidays, leaving my family swaying in the wind with zero information over the long weekend.

On Monday (July 7), when we finally managed to reach someone at the doc's office, they told us that the arteriogram confirmed the 95% blockage but that the surgeon could not see PaDad until July 14. It was at this point that it dawned on all of us that maybe I should not have rushed home based on the doctor's say-so since he doesn't get to dictate the surgeon's schedule. However, the doctor thought this was too long of a delay and they tried to get our appointment moved up. No luck.

So, finally, this past Monday (July 14), the surgeon assessed my grandfather's mental acuity and quality of life and scheduled the surgery for Friday, July 18 at 1:00 p.m.

[insert standard rant about health care system here]

So, I've been cooling my heels in Tejas for the last two weeks. Although cool is not really an appropriate adjective to use to describe anything about Texas in July. Fortuitously, I developed some kind of blockage in my right ear the second day I was here and have not yet managed to clear it, despite 10 days and $120 worth of medication, so it's not like I can fly anyway. And I can't hear a blessed thing either.

But it's not been a vacation. My job is portable and I brought plenty of work with me and have had to scramble several times to make deadlines. There's been a lot going on around here and focusing has been a challenge. Plus, my mom wanted to take me shopping. Who am I to disappoint her? And, drumroll please, I now present the newest selection of my OMG-aren't-they-just-the-cutest-things-you've-ever-seen-in-your-life shoes. Envy me.

You know you wanna be me. But you can't. The position is filled. That's it, yeah, let your envy flow in my direction, let it wash over me, I bathe in it, I glory-- *ahem*. Sorry. Got a little carried away there.

Anyhoo, despite the situation that brought and has kept me here, and despite the workload that has kept me plenty busy, we have managed to get out and do a few fun things and this has given me ample opportunities for observation. And ok, here's the thing: Texas and Texans, I love ya. I really do. I spent the first thirty years of my life here and I wouldn't change that for the world. Well, I'd omit a few of you, but I'm not going to get into that right now. In any case, even though I love you--nay, because I love you, I have to say that in my absence over the last eight years, y'all have all done gone and lost your minds. Now, Texas has always been a bit different and prides itself on it: It's a whole other country and all that jazz. I'm pretty sure no other state in the nation sells bathroom accessories imprinted with the image of its flag--everything from shower curtains to soap dishes to toothbrush holders. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But that's not what I'm talking about. No, I'm talking about the hoopties and the deranged lizard mascots and the Julius Caesar cast costumed as 1950s engineering nerds.

The little corner of Texas that I call home has always had its share of tricked-out trucks and souped-up cars and general attempts at oozing machismo out from under the hood. And oh, by the way, fellas, I refer to any sort of oversized, lift-kit fitted, ginormous-tire sporting, obvious attempt at stating your manhood sort of vehicle as a teeny weeny peeny machine. We all know you're compensating, but consider not advertising your shortcomings in such an obvious way, mmkay? But to get back on track, what got my attention this time was the new (to me) phenomenon of putting tiny little tires with great big wheels on cars, trucks, and SUVs.Yes, that's a Cadillac. An older model, admittedly, but I've seen these ridiculous-looking things on every kind of car you can imagine, from pickup trucks to compact cars to my personal favorite, a brand new Lincoln Navigator. I don't even know what to say about this. It's nuts. It's ugly. Stop the madness.

On a positive note, Kilgore has a new baseball team, the Kilgore Pump Jacks, and they play in the Texas Collegiate League. For those of you not up on your oilfield terminology, a pump jack is one of those old-timey mechanical devices for drawing oil out of a well . They kinda look like a hammer balancing on a triangle and rocking up and down. If that awe-inspiring descriptive imagery isn't doing it for ya, Google Image Search is your friend. A fitting name for a team in an old oil boomtown. But what to do about a mascot? Well, a pump jack is also sometimes called a nodding donkey. So there you go: Boomer, the donkey. Makes perfect sense. Until some nimrod decides that there should be two mascots. Now Boomer is joined by Derrick the dinosaur. Because of fossil fuels, ya know. Right. Whatevs. The only trouble is that a dinosaur mascot costume is a little tough to pull off. And if you're not careful, he might just end up looking like. . .. . . a deranged lizard. Um, creepy. And I'm not even a masklophobe. At least I didn't use to be.

Another good thing that Kilgore has going for it is the annual Texas Shakespeare Festival. According to TSF's promotional materials, it has been referred to by the Austin American Statesman as "indisputably the best Shakespeare festival in Texas." My parents don't usually attend, but my mom was willing to go with me, and to my utter amazement, my dad agreed to accompany us after some initial hesitation. Come to find out, he was mainly interested in seeing the elaborate sets and costumes. Whoops.Somehow, I don't think that's what Dad had in mind. It really wasn't that big of a deal although it threw me at first. But I got used to it and ceased to notice after a while. What was much more distracting were my parents giggling like schoolkids every time one of the actors sprayed a little spit. I wanted to smack them--in a loving way, of course. The weirdest thing about the production for me were the dance numbers that opened and closed the show. The opener featured the nerd chorus (costumes complete with black-rimmed glasses) running in place and then striking a pose, running in place and then striking a pose, ad nauseum. Strange. And the closer was a little rythmic jig where they all chanted several times, "Caesar Augustus, Caesar Augustus, Caesar Augustus, unh, unh, unh!" I don't know. I actually came home and looked up the ending to see how Shakespeare treated the Octavius becomes Augustus bit because I couldn't remember. He didn't. So, uh, I don't know. But, it was a good show and I enjoyed it and am glad we went. Kudos especially to the actor who played Brutus. My playbill's all the way across the room right now so I can't tell you his name. But he did a fine job. Look him up and send him a telegram of congratulation, why don't you?

So, Texicans, in conclusion, I think I have effectively proven that you're all a little bit whacko. However, as we all know, I heart crazy. So do me a favor and don't ever change. Unless you want to get a little bit nuttier.