As the sun was beginning to set, we neared the border between New Mexico and Texas. Of course I had my heart set on a picture of the ‘Welcome to Texas’ sign that I assumed was going to be larger than life. Everything is bigger in Texas right?! Well apparently not if you cross over in Farwell, Texas on I-84.
You can imagine my disappointment.
Just as I was about to have a major rant, Texas pulled through in all of its glory.
We had finally made it! Captain didn’t quite understand why I had woken him up for this photo op but he obliged. Holden just sat in the cat tent/cage meowing uncomfortably as he had done for the majority of the trip. A sense of great accomplishment came over Babette and I which solidified our plan to drive straight through to Austin without stopping in Lubbock. We had just about 8 hours of driving left. Babette was finishing one of her shifts, I would drive another three hours, and she would bring us into Austin.
I sent the Texan a screen shot of us, finally in the same state. I was overjoyed to have made it to my new home state safely and with no major barriers.
The west Texas sunset was gorgeous that night.
Babette and I made it to my new Austin home at about 1:30am Wednesday (or very very late Tuesday night) just in time to prepare for Thanksgiving, Texas style! Our road trip was epic. There are so many details that I can’t possibly cover, as I still feel as though I’m recovering from this move half-way across the country. Suffice it to say, she and I are closer than ever and we have perfected the southern accent 😉
I am finally at home with my Texan.
Posted in Lifestyle, Travels
Tagged Austin, Babette, Captain Burrows, Holden Caulfield, Moving, New Mexico, Photography, Road Trip, Texas, The South, The Texan, Traveling
It’s been a whirlwind romance. It’s been a whirlwind several years. I won’t re-cap in great detail—you can read back through the posts if you’re very curious—but I will say that the last few years (and more recent months) have been filled with self-reflection, radical acceptance, and courage.
As I have been preparing to drive halfway across the country with two cats and my best friend—for a boy I’ve fallen head over heels in love with—I’ve done a lot of reflecting on how I have come to be in this position. I fully intend to document the adventure that will begin this Saturday November 16th as Babette and I head south, but for now I’d like to highlight just a few of the life lessons that I have learned within the last 5 years.
(In no particular order of importance)
- There is no good reason to have a credit card. I’m sorry but there isn’t. There is REALLY no reason to EVER have a joint credit card. Save your money. Pay cash. If you can’t, you probably shouldn’t buy it.
- According to society, it is a risk factor for a single woman to own more than one cat. It could be argued that there is a risk in owning any cats as a single woman, but clearly there is some degree of exponential (read convex) growth in terms of the number of cats owned and likelihood of entering cat ladydom.
- There are clear blue jobs and clear pink jobs. Sometimes there can be purple jobs, but only if partners are equally skilled, competent, and have agreed that both working at the same purple job will complete it faster. When women and men start mixing up jobs, things get confusing and people get their egos bruised. Best to clarify from the start which jobs are what color.
- The risks associated with alcohol consumption more frequently outweigh the benefits. Also, alcohol should never be included on a person’s “self-care plan.”
- Having a “5-year plan” is silly. There is no way to predict what turn of events will or will not take place. Please see previous post Series of Unfortunate Events. Best bet is to take all steps possible to be prepared for what might happen i.e. used gained wisdom from self-reflection, radical acceptance, and courage to be content with life and find purpose in daily living. Happiness will be the side-effect. The only plan one should make is to be debt free.
- Moving frequently encourages minimal possessions. Minimal possessions decreases risks of entering a life of hoarding….Does frequent moving and minimal possessions therefore increase the risks of becoming a nomad? Is that bad? That seems like a bell curve of some sorts…
- You can’t mail liquor boxes (unless fully wrapped covering all labeling) despite their amazing qualities as a sturdy shipping box.
- The cheapest way to move to another state is via the United States Postal Service and Wal-Mart. Boxes are about 69 cents each at Wal-Mart and if it doesn’t rattle, it ships media rate…. Just be sure to get delivery confirmation. Those pods, trucks, and everything else costs several thousands of dollars.
- It is important to step out of your comfort zone from time to time. Go on random dates, go on blind dates even, interview for jobs so that you can practice presenting yourself in a professional manner, say yes to the invitation to go out even though you would rather just veg at home.
- Be hopeful. Be thankful. Be open. Be wise. Be silly.
One random evening…
Posted in Lifestyle
Tagged Adventure, Babette, Cat Ladydom, Courage, Debt Free, Drinking, Freedom, Gender Roles, Life, Love, Moving, Radical Acceptance, Self-Care, Texas, The South, Viktor Frankl
“It’s a fantastic scene–thousands of people fainting, crying, copulating, trampling each other and fighting with broken whiskey bottles.” -Hunter S. Thompson
It’s Derby Day once again. The fastest two minutes in sports. My first derby experience was epic. A road trip from Chicago to Kentucky to meet up with my bro, who had made the trek with his fratastic brahs from Vanderbilt. It had poured the Friday before, leaving the infield of The Churchill Downs a 2ft deep mud puddle that stretched nearly a half of a mile long.
Needless to say, there was no staying clean that day–so I was obviously not going to put out any effort to do so i.e. mud wrestling seemed an appropriate choice to honor the day.
It was after this epic moment that I remember something very important. I reached into my bra recalling the ziplock baggies that had been filled with whiskey. You see, you can’t bring any liquid into the derby, so sneaking liquor into the races in peculiar fashions was quite common. My brother had duct taped two catheter-like bags of bourbon to his thighs. I give the plastic a tug, expecting that it would have burst during my muddy plunge, only to pull out a fully sealed bag of Makers Mark.
“This is the coolest you will ever be,” my brother said.