“Gonna bang you like a screen door blowing in a hurricane.”
I laughed so hard when I first heard that!
Do you know how long I had to wait for a good storm so I could use that title? Months. MONTHS, I tell you. (If you recall, during the last big storm in Texas Hill Country I was pleasantly, fortunately, blessedly in another state.)
But this is Texas, so I knew it would only be a matter of time until there was a big storm wherever I was at. Like all things they do big in Texas, storms are at the top of the list. And so is the flooding. Many of you may recall the flooding of two years ago.
Leave it to me to find another RV park with a river that floods. Mind you, I’m on a completely. different. river. this time around. Ya, like that mattered.
This is a series of photos taken at three intervals, over about 20 hours. (Click below to see the photos.)
Have you ever watched South Park? That show cracks me up. If you have closed captioning turned on, it shows you what Kenny is saying. His lines are some of the most raunchy of the show. Not that I’d know anything about that.
Anyhoo, if you aren’t familiar with the show then this post won’t make much sense, but that shouldn’t matter. Many of my posts don’t make much sense, so what’s one more. However, if you are familiar with the show…
Texas and Southern US saying, “That dog don’t hunt.” Meaning: This idea or excuse won’t work, this thing doesn’t work correctly. The expression originated in the American South, where dogs are commonly used to hunt. Also put as “that old dog won’t hunt.” It originated in the late 1800s. – according to The Web.
A neighbor with a stick-and-brick (that’s full-time RVer lingo for “house”) went on vacation. He asked me to take care of his chickens and barn kitties. (“Barn kitty” or “barn cat” is country lingo for cats that live outside your country house to help keep down the rodent and snake populations. They’re fed some kibbles, but generally not treated like a revered pet. Sometimes they’re socialized, but not usually allowed inside the main house.)
Actually, my neighbor didn’t care so much about the barn kitties (welcome to the south), but he did care about the chickens (again, welcome to the south). The chickens that don’t lay eggs.
“Do we LOOK like we lay eggs? Yeah, we fooled the guy who bought us, too.”
There are eight hens and one rooster. Eight of them are physically capable of laying eggs. Five of the hens are old enough – over seven months – but they don’t lay eggs. There’s got to be something wrong with them.
I’m totally phoning this one in. It wasn’t my most exciting sightseeing trip, but I was out of stuff to see in that area. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice historic old stuff, but it’s always been hard for me to get excited about historic old stuff – unless it’s really, really old. Like Pyramids in Egypt old.
A brief update after last week’s rant: I’ve encountered some nicer folks, most notably today. Other than that, I’m sticking close to home for a bit and only surrounding myself with positive people, meditating longer myself, and reading and listening to more metaphysical stuff – something that always makes me feel great.
Tomorrow my neighbors are taking me boating on a huge, pretty lake nearby. Apparently there are waterfalls! I will take pictures for you all. Pray they don’t look like my usual fuzzy crap. It will be about 105 degrees, so pray I also weather the heat.
Now, on with the old stuff…
Old stuff in historic Goliad, Texas: a mission, a presidio, and a monument.
I know, more old stuff. There’s not much else to see around Gonzales and Goliad, except historic old stuff.
I could’ve just said “It’s hot,” but folks get a little tired of hearing the same phrase over and over.
God is cooking Texas. My cousin thinks He’s cooking southern Utah is for dessert.
The weather is a big topic in Texas. The weather channel is included in the channel lineup as if it were one of the major networks. It will come as no surprise that Texans also have colorful sayings describing the weather.
My new location is loaded with Axis and Whitetail deer, which graze in the field behind my RV every evening. The teeny little fawns are adorable! I accidentally walked up on one the other evening and it took off like a shot, bounding away, big white tail in the air!
You might need glasses, or this could be a fuzzy picture of a deer. (One thing is certain, my photography skills haven’t changed. Just remember – certainty is a good thing.)
The fawn (not pictured) was a bit smaller than Pye (Pye’s not exactly one to miss a meal), but its white tail was the size of an adult deer’s tail – and it was as long as its little body! It was cute and hilarious all at the same time. It reminded me of when I was a kid and my guinea pig gave birth to babies – open-eyed, fur-covered babies with adult-sized guinea pig feet! The disproportionately large feet make the baby guinea pigs kind of funny looking.
Speaking of Pye, here’s what happened right after I parked. She looked out the window at the grackle (black birds about the size of a crow, but with a long tail and a big squawk). She’d never seen one of the large birds before.
Pye seeing a grackle for the first time.
The bird, oblivious to Pye watching from the window, hopped a bit closer the my RV. The photo below was taken seconds later right after Pye freaked out because the oblivious bird came closer. She ran away from the window. Yes, Pye is actually part chicken.But, wait! There’s more…
(A southern saying indicating surprise or astonishment. And that, my dear Kernutties, is your lesson for today.)
Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered there was a Toilet Seat Art Museum in San Antonio. I know!
Toilet seat art – “Time is precious. Don’t waste it.” This one has tiny colored lights!
Barney Smith, the toilet seat artist, the toilet seat museum curator, and the toilet seat tour guide, recently turned 94. He’s been creating toilet seat art for over 50 years and is still going strong. Each toilet seat has a theme: there are toilet seats for most every profession, events, and for many celebrities.
It’s time to get out of Dodge. There’s a storm a brewin’ and I’m a goin’.
If you watch the Weather Channel at all you may have seen that central Texas is now marshland. The state is like a doughnut of land with a lake in place of the doughnut hole.
By a marvelous twist of fate I was not anywhere near Pizzaville for the worst of it. (I was actually in a galaxy far, far away. I had a great time, and that will be in a later story.) I was watching the Weather Channel while I was gone, and that was scary enough. You all know how I feel about these big wind and water storms. I’ll take a good ol’ west coast earthquake over that any day. By not being in Texas for the storm, I’m sure I’ve saved years of my life. Years that would’ve otherwise been lost to the stress and fear of being right there.
Tornadoes touched down around Pizzaville (none too close to the RV park). Many people were evacuated from homes and RV parks all around south central Texas. Cow-Chicken-Oil town is completely flooded. Dams broke, river banks overflowed, roads washed away. And so did some homes. Several people lost their lives and more are still missing.
A seven-foot-tall jackalope was spotted in Wimberley, Texas!
The furry jackrabbit-antelope hybrid was seen wearing a horse saddle, and galloping through Hill Country after throwing a unknown blond rider.
I have a feeling none of you are surprised by my attempt at a shocking headline.
I can’t even surprise you all anymore, can I? *sigh*
Pioneer Town, Wimberley, Texas
Pioneer Town, Wimberley, Texas – Home of the Jackalope
Pioneer Town, a replica of a mid-1800s western town, has all the requirements of an old western movie set: a dirt main street, a blacksmith shop, a livery stable, a post office, a print shop, a general store, old houses, a steepled church, and an opera house. It also has a cowboy museum and requisite souvenir shop,… and a giant jackalope.
Because every mid-1800’s western town had a giant jackalope. Probably.
This is another episode of Tales From the RV Park, stories from the RV parks where I’ve camped. Disclaimer: These stories are fictitious, happened in nightmares, are hearsay, and/or are what others recounted to me. I am part Irish, so there is likely a good deal of exaggeration. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. There is no relation to persons living, dead, or in jail, even if you think so. In other words, don’t bother trying to sue me. This post is about birds, flowers, and sunsets; it doesn’t need a disclaimer.
Your “learn something new” for today: A group of pelicans is called a pod. The group can also be called a squadron. The title of this post was chosen for no reason other than “A Pod of Pelicans” sounded more catchy than “A Squadron of Pelicans”. Plus, I had recent photos and video of pelicans. So today, pelicans – and a new word. You’re welcome.
A pod of pelicans.
A migrating pod of American White Pelicans landed on the lake a couple evenings ago. (This is the lake where I’m currently parked in the wee town I call Pizzaville.)
American White Pelicans on the lake.
It’s moments like this that make up for the Texas storms. Kinda. The video below shows about two hundred pelicans landing on the lake. But, wait! There’s more…