I’m sorry but it’s long past time for me to move on
For such a long time you were my home
But not anymore
Hello from the other side
I borrowed this from Adele’s new song “Hello”, (if you don’t know what this is, you should play it…. and possibly get out more). I rewrote the song, just a little. I’m sure she won’t mind, you know, because my version is clearly awesome.
Just as how I can’t tell short story, this is my (long) way of saying I have moved – and will be almost outside of Texas by the time you read this. (I know! I can hardly believe it myself.)
But let me back up a bit…
It took me 13 hours to go 2 1/2 hours.
Huh? What is she talking about now?
I left La Grange at 7:45 a.m. and got to Gatesville, about 2 1/2 hours away, thirteen hours later. I like to take a leisurely drive on my way to any location, but not that leisurely. This was hours of waiting for minor issues to be taken care of, and for Progressive to get their head out of their ass… But, wait! There’s more…
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.
Hi, remember me? I’m that gal who used to blog here. Yeah, yeah, so I’m flaky when feeling overwhelmed. But I make up for it with my vivacious personality. Heh.
Another leap of faith was in my near future, and this time I was afraid to jump. Yes, I gave up my stick-and-brick (read “apartment in-between the city and the suburbs”) – before getting my RV – and that leap of faith felt more comfortable than this one. I was super excited about it, but I was also nervous about temporarily relocating to the panhandle from the start – something about it never felt right. My friends and fellow workcampers knew all the details and none of them thought it was a good idea, either. But I really wanted this to work – it would mean I could travel all the time!
It was for that commission-only sales job for which I’d get to travel all the time. This is the same job I already tried it out in two neighboring towns… the one that didn’t sell (100% commission = no pay if there are no sales), but I got to meet some of the rudest people in Texas. Oh joy.
This time the owner was willing to pay for me to go up there and provide $200/wk as a base for the first two weeks. After my last experience of working for a week and a half without making one sale, I decided it was too risky to try it again that far away from civilization. I already burned up resources when I tried it the first time and couldn’t risk it happening again.
The funny thing is I was all set to go, but was nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs But, wait! There’s more…
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.
I don’t often go to see old stuff, unless of course, the weird and wacky roadside attraction I’m visiting happens to have been created a long time ago and is therefore old by default.
Not this time. This attraction’s only claim to roadside attraction fame is age. Okay, okay, some folks prefer the word “historical”. Whatever. It’s old. This particular city is rich in history, as is all of Texas. And it’s all about a cannon.
Come and Take It
Gonzales, Texas, is all about a cannon. An old cannon.
I’ve been workcamping at a nice RV park since I moved to Deerville (near Touristburg and Soberville) six weeks ago. The job was supposed to go full-time (with pay after 15 hours) starting last week, but the current camp manager isn’t leaving as planned, which means they don’t need me to work full-time. So as the title implies, I’m workin’ harder than a funeral home fan in July looking for new opportunities. While I’m looking for new opportunities, I’ve been dreaming about where I’m going next.
I’d like to go to New Mexico, slowly making my way up to Wyoming. Everyone thinks I’m crazy to want to go to Wyoming – even in the summer – but it always looks so pretty in everyone’s photos! I have a friend there now and he pretty much hates being in the middle of nowhere. I can relate: Cow-Chicken-Oil town (pop. ~7,500) was MUCH bigger than where he is (pop. ~800), and it sounds like he’s farther from civilization than Pizzaville ever was. I’m not deterred. I want to see the plains and mountains and take my usual fuzzy pictures.
Another option is to FINALLY see one of the Largest Balls of Twine and Largest Frying Pans. The nearest Largest Ball of Twine is in Kansas… as is the Largest Hair Ball. Gee, Pye ought to enjoy both of those exhibits.
Of the (six?) Largest Frying Pans, I’m most likely to hit one in either Iowa, Kentucky or Delaware. If Pye is being a brat, I may put her in one of the frying pans.
Largest Ball of Barbed Wire = Close substitute for Largest Ball of Twine.
It’s not twine, but it is the Largest Ball of Barbed Wire, at least that I’ve seen.
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.