Lighting bugs

They're ephemeral. Little points of brightness against the dusky evening. It's only possible to see them when not looking for them. They aren't ever in the same place twice, and always always just at the edge of the periphery. All you can do is appreciate them for the moments of beauty they bring into your evening.

I missed lighting bugs.

The fantastic housewarming with as-seen-on-TV golfing

This weekend my entire family came to visit us for a housewarming/birthday party. Housewarming for us, birthday for my brother. These weekends are always a fantastic time filled with too much of everything (except for sleep, which seems to go by the wayside). We played dominoes, we ate a lot, we grilled. But before all that, we golfed. My brother and his wife arrived on Friday afternoon before the rest of the family for a golfing good time. His birthday was this weekend, and her present for him was a brand new set of Callaway irons. Yep, the super nice ones. He also got a new Callaway bag. Apparently his favorite club is the six iron, but she had trouble buying just one of his coveted Callaways, so she got him the entire set. He's DYING to use these. We head out to the course and are having a great time, and he loves the clubs. Loves them. We get to the 14th hole and are just running out of time. We're going to stop at this point because darkness is falling and we're having trouble tracking the balls. The 14th hole on the course in our neighborhood backs to the lake. Not some water hazard. The honest-to-goodness, gigantic Lake Ray Hubbard. In fact, there's a cut of the lake between the tee box and the hole. It's a short little par three, and since it's our last hole, everyone is taking mulligans and not really worrying about the score. While we're up there trying to get a shot onto the green, my brother empties the cooler. Ice, water, all over the ground... And his golf glove and hands. After doing this task, he wants one more shot with his FAVORITE brand-new Callaway six iron. He gets up there, squares up, and tees off.

The ball... On the green. Nice.

His six iron... IN THE LAKE. Wet.

Seriously. Like a helicopter. We all watch in horror as time actually slows down and the club flies end over end into the middle of the lake. This was our last hole. This was a do-over shot for him. This was HIS BRAND NEW CLUB.

After a few select expletives, we move on. We persevere. We ask the pro shop to please let us know if the divers find his club when they're hunting for balls. It wasn't the best end to the golfing.

Aside from that, it was a great day on the course. And apparently the divers expect to find it. But it could be a month. I'll let you know when I know.

Everyone else showed up later that evening or the next day, and we had fun playing dominoes and cooking and eating. E's grill still works great and there isn't anything quite like grilling over Memorial day. In the end, it was a super successful weekend, even if the ladies didn't win at charades. Who could really act out "anteater" anyway? I thought aardvark was a really good guess.I think when the dogs are exhausted it means everyone enjoyed the party. Zoee still looks worn out from playing with this guy...

A dog for our dog

Months ago we decided that when we finally got a yard, we would get another dog for our dog to play with. A dog for our dog, if you will. Well, we finally have said yard, and have decided that the time is ripe for getting a new member of our household. So when in an exciting circumstance E noticed a flier for a person needing to find their dog a home, we jumped at the chance to look into this. Please understand. We aren't ready to commit to the whole puppy thing again. It was great - cuddly and furry and cute... But it was also stinky and messy and full of NO! and STOP THAT! So we've decided to get a more mature dog-puppy to avoid (hopefully) these things. We were thinking 6 months to a year, but hey, we're flexible.

So there is a person at work who for unknown reasons needs to get rid of her six year old Boston Terrier. Oooh cute, I think! They're so funny looking with those giant bat ears! How fun! I'm positive about everything, including this dog. Fabulous! But six? Maybe six is too old. I don't know, let's give it a shot. What could it hurt, anyway?

So off we go, headed to someone's house we've never met, but who assures us that her little dog "can handle herself" with big dogs because she was, and I quote, "raised with pits"! I have no idea what she means by this, because I've met some very nice pit bulls in my day. Maybe this is to make me believe that this little dog is tough? I don't know. Anyway, we get to her house and she is sitting on her porch. Waiting for us. While smoking. And wearing a mu mu. Oh, and no shoes. Yep, that's right. No shoes. She says to us, "She's a good little dog, but I'm going to be honest... She will pee and poop in the house." E and I exchange furtive glances. She scurries inside, cigarette hanging from her upper lip, calling back to us "Lemme git er!" She brings out the most pathetic looking creature I have ever seen. This poor dog seems to be absolutely terrified of me, E, the flowers, the rocks, the sky... Even the AIR seems to freak her out. I immediately realize that I am not the right person to love and nurture this little bug-eyed animal, no matter how terrible I feel for it. However, we hold the dog and talk to her and even make a big show of learning what she likes and doesn't like. We learn that she likes to sleep in bed - under the covers, eck - with you and likes for you to kiss her all over her neck. She likes to chew on a stuffed animal and chase balls. She was even hit by a car once. We learn all of this mostly because we can't figure out how to say nicely, um, thanks for the coffee but we aren't going to have a second date.

I'm sorry Zoee... We're going to have to find you a buddy next weekend after this weekend's extravaganza of family fun is over. Trust me, it never would have worked between the two of you.

Did I hear you correctly?

Tonight I went to a soccer game to meet my new indoor team. I'll start playing with them next week. So tonight, there I am... The Spectator. I'm itching - just itching - to get on the field. Alas, one more week of waiting.

My new team lost, unfortunately, with a score of 3-2. Despite that they all seemed in good spirits when I talked with them after the game. I am thinking, "I have managed to find the team of people who know how to play hard and then let it go after it's over! This is fantastic! I am going to love this!"

Just at this moment two of the women start talking to each other. The one says, "Hey, nice star tattoo. It's cool." The other now says, "Thanks, I had to cover up a prison tat."

Are they serious? Is this a way to induct me into the team? Is she really some hardened criminal turned soccer player? Only time will tell.

Regardless, I get to play soccer next week!

Austin and San Antonio...

If there's one tree that I love, it's the Live Oak. Much more than that, I love the Live Oaks at Shady Grove in Austin. So when we got together for our annual Denver Girls Trip, I was more than happy to show my foreign (Coloradoan) friends around this great state of mine. Of course we had to have lunch at the Grove. I can tell you that there are pieces of my life that I have compartmentalized from each other... I never expect that my family and friends from what I consider home would cross over with all of my friends and mentors from my life in Denver. It was an odd feeling, but it was wonderful to share with my friends what created me during my formative years.
We also visited the ever so fabulous Riverwalk, home of twinkly Christmas lights in the winter and green green green trees in the summertime. The Riverwalk always makes me nostalgic and schmoopy, as this is the location where my husband and I spent many a night falling in love. We walked past many of our first date-y locations and I couldn't help but throw a penny in the river for him, just like we did when we were in college. I'm not sure anyone I was with noticed, which is probably for the best. No need to be teased about one of my favorite memories of college.
Along those lines, my grandmother lives in Austin. She's adorable and fun and loves to entertain, so when she found out that we were staying just a few miles from her house, she insisted we come by for a visit. She made us a fabulous brunch and I really loved that I got to spend some time with her. I'm so glad that I've been able to see her more than ever. And I've got to say, the woman looks fantastic for anyone half her age. I hope that my future holds that!

The whole trip wasn't thoughtful introspection and deep discussion. We went to the Riverwalk, we saw the dinky (although tremendously important) Alamo, we listened to live music on the lake, we went on a tour in an amphibious vehicle, we saw Ester's Follies, and we wandered around on 6th after dark. It was a great trip. We also won free visors, which D and I are showing off.

Of treadmills and weight stacks

Hi mister too many cigarettes in the parking lot covered by large quantities of Scope in the locker room guy.

You like the treadmill next to mine?

Really?

Can you even run?

No apparently not.

Springtime in Texas

Spring in Texas is a beautiful thing that I had wholly forgotten living in the far-off land of Colorado. These pre-100 degree days bring with them sunshine and clear skies that merit flip-flops and jeans, skirts and tank tops. It's nice to walk around outside and there is just the right amount of sun. There are giant thunderstorms that usher in the warmer ski-worthy weather, and these bring with them blue and white lightning across my purple evening sky. Breathtaking. The morning comes and it's clear and beautiful outside and everything smells fresh and clean. Full of promise and flowers and the smell of grass. I love springtime.

Rockwall Idol

When we first began our home search in Texas, we didn't have any idea where the city of Rockwall was. Somewhere in the Metroplex, but that's about all we knew. Nor do we really watch much of American Idol after the beginning part where the good, bad, and ugly get to sing (scream?) their hearts out on TV. So when people from work recommended looking out here, we didn't understand why every restaurant and shop seemed to have signs out front saying things like "We love you Jason!", "Support Jason Castro!", "Good luck Jason!", and the like. Who is this Jason Castro, we wondered?

Turns out Jason Castro is the dreadlocked hometown hero that captured the hearts of thousands of people with his singer-songwriter attitude on American Idol. The longer he was on American Idol, the more signs popped up. Not just in Rockwall now, but all over the Dallas area. Everyone LOVES him! So, because we don't watch American Idol, I listened to some of his music online. He's really quite good. I really like his version of Hallelujah. But apparently he's not the best, because he made it to #4 on the fabulously popular TV show and was then voted off. His fanbase here will never die though. Good job Jason Castro, though I've just moved to this town and can barely call it home yet.

Love and soccer in Texas

Today I joined a soccer team in Rockwall. Yay! And though I know the teammates shown here and the most awesome ones I will ever encounter in all my years, I'm excited to be on a team again. It will be nice to have scheduled outside time. I can't wait!

The joys of home ownership

I love love LOVE our new house. It's just fantastic. I love everything about it. The porch is my absolute favorite. I love the kitchen, I love the backyard, I love the neighborhood... Ask anyone and you'll come to know that I have an abnormally large amount of affection for our appliances, most specifically our washer, dryer, and fridge. (The other appliances are jealous, but it's true, I love them less.) I even love that our house has a tin roof which I imagine will be very hot in the summertime, which makes me think about Tennessee Williams (assuming there was some kind of cat on it).

Given my devotion to our house it's surprising that I've already inflicted wounds onto it's fragile being. During a spree of window opening this weekend, I managed to open a window with such zeal and enthusiasm as to crack off one of the window latches by slamming it into the blinds. Now my beautiful house has a blemish. I've managed to break part of it, and we've only lived in it for two months now. I suppose that's how it goes, this is me we're talking about.

Fortunately, this window is still secured by the other latch, and I've been assured by my adorable husband that it is fully fixable. I'll have to have less energy when opening things from now on. My mom always told me not to slam doors. I had to wait until now, but I finally understand why.

People I can't understand at the gym

There are a ton of people at our gym in the afternoon. Most of them, say 90%, are there because they realize not being there has dire circumstances like chubby bellies and a fear of the nearby lake due to the bathing suits is calls for. The smaller minority I just don't understand. Today I got to stand between two sets of people while trying to lift weights. The first are the ridiculously over-tanned men who I'm quite sure oiled themselves up before hitting the gym floor. They have upper bodies that bulge with veins and legs that look like little toothpicks, and because of this they are often seen wearing pants. The two next to me today were very - grunty. On the other side of me were two high school aged girls. These girls, I'm quite certain, did not understand how to use the gym. They mostly stood there and held 5 lb weights in their hands while ogling the high school boy next to them who had just pulled up his sleeves to check out his ginormous biceps (ha) as he did curls.

I just don't understand the gym. Just get in and get out. There's no need for all this oil. Seriously people.

Summer funtimes

Where will I be the majority of weekends this summer, God willing?

Harbor Bay Marina

Somewhere relatively close to dock D-9, ideally. If not near there, then somehow enjoying the boat that is going to be staying there after next weekend. Yay!

Horticultural genius

I have been growing a lime tree on my back porch essentially since we moved into our house. This tree, given to us as a housewarming gift by my dad, is something I have developed deep emotional ties to. I am terrible - *TERRIBLE* - at growing things. I once killed a cactus due to over-love (read: over-watering). I would like to be the amazing gardener that all the women in my family seem to be, but to call a spade a spade, I have quite a way to go. So anyway, I have been nurturing this tree. Nothing thrills me more than the thought of walking outside one sunny Saturday afternoon this summer and picking limes for my margarita right off of my beautiful and happy lime tree. It is fantastic. So imagine my despair when this tree doesn't seem particularly happy. His leaves curl and uncurl, he leans sideways, he does everything he can think of to make my heart wrench with grief at his potential untimely demise. So imagine my surprise and delight when I walk outside to find this:There are many more, just like this one, all over the tree. I am a horticultural genius! My lime tree is happy! He likes the way I water him. He's going to make limes! It's going to be a fantastic summer!

Now if only he would have a discussion with my ficus tree about how awesome I am. Maybe I should focus all my plant-growing power on getting him to stop dropping his leaves.

Heaven in the Freezer

Why would we be so full of glee being back in Texas? Here are two reasons: Centennial Cupcake and Buttered Almond. Blue Bell, I've missed you so.

Our new arrival

We have made a big decision today. We have moved into the world of *gasp* HD-TV. With some degree of reverence and awe, my husband has been stalking his prey for months, nay, years now. He has eyed them all with a twinkle of desire in his eye... LCD, plasma, DLP. 1080P, 1080I, 780P. 40 inches, 42 inches, 46 inches, 50 inches, and the altogether ridiculous 61 inches. What will the final decision be? How can one possibly choose with so many delectable options out there?
The die has been cast. A decision has been made. A television was purchased today.Say hello to our new Samsung 46 inch 1080P LCD TV. (60 Hz model. The 120 Hz was $600 more and the integration is still a little under rated making the images a bit on the cartoonish side, so we went with the cheaper, less fast action model.)

Hi TV. I look forward to seeing you installed in my living room on Friday afternoon sometime between noon and 4 pm.

Co-conspirators

Him: Outside on the porch on the phone
Me: Cutting up a miniature watermelon (her favorite summertime treat)
Her: Staring at me with those big brown eyes
She thinks we're co-conspirators. She thinks because HE can't see us I will give in. My willpower is strong. Her eyes are stronger. I'm trying to hold out. She's drooling. Long strands of slobber pool on the tile. I wince and look away. She's just sooooo sad. If only I would give her one small ball of watermelon, everything in the world would be okay. But no, me, with a heart of stone, ignore the big imploring eyes. I can't look at her. I finish cutting up the melon and toss the hollowed out rind into the trash. This is her absolute favorite part. Have I forgotten that she loves the little parts of melon that I can't manage to get out with the baller? It's her job to remove all remnants of melon from inside the rind. Why am I depriving her of this privilege? She stalks off, upset. Wounded. For the next hour or so, I will have to throw a tennis ball and scratch her belly to make it up to her.

She's very high maintenance.

Life in a cube farm

For those of you who haven't had the thrilling experience that is living in a cubicle for nine hours out of the day, it's can be pretty interesting. Enter me, wearing heels that click every time I take a step. Click-click-click-click-click-sit. After sitting, I hear a mystery voice which I quickly realize is the voice of male-cube-wall-mate #1. He says to me, "You couldn't sneak up on anyone in those shoes! I try not to wear my shoes like that to the office anymore. Haha!" I, of course, am used to life in actual offices rather than cubes, so I don't understand why he wouldn't at least PRETEND that the cloth particle boards separating us are real walls. Don't get me wrong. I like the guy. But seriously, walk around the flimsy particle board to inundate me with funny social banter. As I am getting ready to respond, I hear male-cube-wall-mate #2 say, "You just wear your heels at home now?" which prompts cube-wall-mate #3 to bust into uncontrollable laughter. Soon everyone in the bay is laughing.

All because I wore heels to work. Click-click.

Named after a restaurant... Maybe.

It's a wonder where I discovered the name of this blog. If you were to ask me, why, is that the name of a restaurant off of Central in Plano? I would have to say, um, yes. Shut up. I kind of love the restaurant and all the kitschy things and Texas-themed foods. Where else could you order delicious seafood from the coast and some kind of wild game too? Why, at Love and War in Texas. It's also just a interesting way to describe life here. So there you go.

The most horrible dog parents e-v-e-r

Note the look of desperation...

Zoee is on a diet. This is a highly contentious point in our household. Zoee has always been ridiculously motivated by f-o-o-d and t-r-e-a-ts and d-i-n-n-e-r that we have taken to spelling out things despite the fact that we have NO small children in our house. Because of this, our beautiful dark chocolate brown Labrador retriever quickly turned into a king-sized candy bar. About three weeks ago Zoee needed to visit the vet, and it was quickly discovered that my poor dog had a staph infection. In her bits. Seriously. This happened. It was due to, as the vet so delicately put it, the overabundance of chubbiness in her belly region. As penance for my terrible dog parenting, I am now required to swab her nethers with what amounts to medicated wet naps.

Oh. My. God. Really? Really.

I also have to put the dog on a diet. I cannot even tell you how much more painful this realization was for me than having to rub down my dog's personal area with swabs. Zoee looks at me with those big dark eyes and furrowed eyebrows as I munch on my delicious dinner and asks silently, "Why do you hate me so?" I don't! I don't! Alas, if only she spoke English.

Only 7 more pounds to go, then she can have treats again. One would argue that is what got us here in the first place, but we'll just have to cross that bridge when the big happy tails get us there.

Under the influence

Because of the vast number of locations of our friends and families, we have decided to start a blog. (This is under the influence of many of our friends who are doing the same.) I can't promise it will be updated every single day, but we'll do our best.

After years of life in Colorado, I find myself back in Texas. This may be a shock to many, but I did this because I wanted to. I loved life in Colorado. Amazing friends, fantastic weather, a job I loved, and a place that felt friendly and safe. I miss my Colorado life - full of friends who I can count on, mountains to climb, happy hours after work at our favorite local bar, clear crisp spring mornings full of promise... Despite all this, Colorado was never quite home.

To many who don't know it the way I do, Texas is backwards and slow. It is home to loud politicians, warmongers, and rednecks. Texas is to many people hot, humid, and without charm. This is not my Texas.

Texas to me is family reunions playing washers at my grandparents. Home of big wide skies, sunny days on the lake, blinding thunderstorms on humid summer nights, Mexican food and lazy Saturday mornings eating breakfast burritos. It is quaint hill country towns and lunch at the Grist Mill. It is tubing the Guadalupe with friends on a clear hot summer day. It is soccer tournaments and waterskiing and family family family. Texas is everything I love the most about being alive. This is my Texas.

Welcome home.