A Plan for Spontaneity

My Nana could never keep a surprise. She managed to accidentally slip regarding surprise parties, gifts, events, pretty much anything she was asked to save for later. Most of us inherited her trait, which is why I decided not to say anything to anyone. Then I kept second-guessing myself. Responsible me, who sometimes over-worries, tried to keep it a pure, untainted surprise. Tried being the operative word.

I knew a few weeks ago, Uncle Danny would be visiting Texas. I looked at flights and compared availability with my work schedule. Nothing worked, a given in education. I could get there, but I couldn’t get back home if I flew, the best option compared to an eight hour drive plus pit stops. Three summers have come and gone since we were all together. He’d been back to Texas, but living so far from my hometown, I usually miss out on non-summer visits.

All day Friday, between classes, I mulled around the idea. If I leave right after school-impossible since I had nothing packed-and drive four hours, I can get a hotel and leave early for the second half of the trip. If I go to bed by 9:00-impossible since I decided to make homemade pizza for dinner-I can leave at 4:00 a.m. and still be there at noon-ish. Or maybe I won’t go. I’m accustomed to missing out. This is what I get for choosing to live so far away from family. I’ll catch up with pictures. There’s always Face Time. No big deal.

But it is a big deal. With everything the past year and a half has dumped on us, why not? I decided to go to bed early, despite the tedious dinner I planned on cooking. I wasn’t in bed by 9:00, but I instructed my youngest to pack a bag and get ready for bed. We were on the road by 5:30 the next morning. I turned on my tracking app and kissed the hubster goodbye.

My niece, first place winner in her mountain bike race under 18 age division. 18 miles in the heat!

No one back home knew we were on our way. I got a feel for the family gathering on Saturday after I called my mom. Driving too fast without getting caught and skipping our regular pit stops made the drive seem quicker. Until I was about an hour and a half away, I was doing well with the surprise. However, I wanted to be certain to catch everyone. We have a way of changing plans on whim and I didn’t want to wind up missing them in case they decided to leave early or go visit someone.

One sister, who is always late to everything, (I’m the other one) called me while she was on the road as well. I let her know what we were up to in case anything changed. I tapped into my inner-Nana and “ruined” the surprise. Sensible me said it was for safety purposes. What if something happened on the road?

We arrived at noon-ish, 12:14, actually. I messaged the Keeper of the Secret. The plan was to call, then get on Face Time to say hello to everyone.

I called my mom and without skipping a beat, she said “Where are you? Don’t tell me you’re parked out front.”

What in the world? Did the Keeper of the Secret leak it out?

“Yeah, I wish!” I make small talk and walk towards the entrance to the outdoor patio where everyone has gathered for lunch. Mom shrieks when she sees us and this is the start to one of the most joyful, low-key, family focused weekends since summer. Road trips are standard for summer break, but unplanned weekend road trips are a little extra—everything.

I went outside my comfort zone only to find myself in another one.

Happy Halloguin

I belonged in a family that semi-celebrated Halloween
Nana said we'd go to hell,
it's the devil's festival
But my pastor uncle, 
took us to almost every house
in our small town, 
twice
always starting 
on the good side of town,
the ones that gave out mini-candy bars
and never stopping at Nana's
Rule follower me
reminded him we'd already been
to this house or that
"They don't remember, 
go get you some more candy!"

Once, my mom took us trick-or-treating-
one round, no fancy houses, quick-
there are other things to do
"There's candy by the door," 
she instructs Dad.
But it's Monday Night Football 
and the Dallas Cowboys are playing
We return home with our bags
all the lights out
darkness
Where is he?
In the bedroom, 
under the bed
a portable black and white TV 
flickers
mini-figured gray football men, tackling
Dad,  
a pillow propped 
under his chest
lying on his stomach, 
mesmerized.
A bowl full of
black and orange 
paper wrapped
peanut butter nougat candy
untouched,
waiting for us to split it.
"I didn't want anyone to interrupt me."
We give him some of our Snickers, 
his favorite.

I became the family 
makeup artist 
the year all the younger cousins 
were clowns,
costumes cheap
to assemble
and there was enough face paint 
to go around 
transforming my little brother
into a skull
Charged with getting everyone 
out the door, 
I don't remember them 
paying me 
with candy.

I got married 
one Halloween
my engagement ring 
cost a dollar
A white fuzzy pipe cleaner 
looped into a circle
a rock salt crystal gem
hot glued 
to the top
"I do." 
"I do."
And that was that,
teen-aged Halloween carnival vows
without the promise of forever

Transition

Easing into fall
Hill country sunset and wine
Summer's kiss goodbye

I’ve Got (Too Much) Mail

I’m working on decluttering my personal inbox. I gave up on my work email. I try not to look at the number of unread or unopened emails. I unsubscribe, but for some reason, it doesn’t work. There are tips and tricks to manage the beast, but that takes more time than I have. I sign up for different kinds of groups (mostly writing), hoping to get inspired. And I do…when I read an entire email. Last week I read through one newsletter and I decided to only choose one of the embedded links. It was about journaling, something I’ve been doing most of my life. There was good information. I saved it. It’s hard not to dig through my digital trash looking for other valuable bits of knowledge I tossed haphazardly. But my brain can only take so much. If that information needs to find me, it will come around. Probably into my inbox.

Spanish à la (Apple) Mode

This afternoon I officially passed on my elementary library Twitter account and set up a new one for my middle school library. It took most of the day to compose my farewell tweet-it’s book fair week and we’ve been busy. I wanted to end my post with “adios amigos” and wound up with “Adoos ambiguities!” I had to save my draft and that’s what welcomed me when I returned. It prompted me to compose short Spanish phrases and let autocorrect fix everything for me.

Here are a few samples:

English	Spanish	Apple Autocorrect
I enjoy going to the movies.	Me gusta ir al cine.	Me enchants it’s al cone.
You are my friend.	Tu eres mi amiga.	Ruthie weeks mi amiga.
I need a cup of coffee	Necesito una taza de cafe.	Necessity una Taz a de cafe.
Hello, how are you?	¿Hola, como estas?	Hola, ComicCon estos?
I’m very hungry.	Tengo mucha hambre.	Tengo muncha ham Bre.
I have a headache.	Tengo un dolor de cabeza.	Tengo un dolor de caveman.
When will we eat dinner?	¿Cuándo cenamos?	Chandigarh cenamos?
Happy birthday.	Feliz cumpleaños.	Felix cumpleaños.
I like to eat pizza.	Me gusta comer pizza.	Me gusts comer pizza.

Learn Spanish à la Apple Mode!

The things I do to entertain myself. ¡Adoos, ambiguities!

Which Story Do I Tell?

Of all the tiny stories that make up a day
a week, a month?

Do I tell the one about being unable
to make it to my cousin's funeral,
the one who was like a sister when we were kids
but somehow we grew up and drifted
our separate ways like a dandelion seed
puffed out of someone's wish?

Do I tell the one about how I missed 
first day of school pictures?
The one my husband took that wasn't full
of smiles and eager tween bubbles giddy to meet
friends in person once again?
The one with one less in the picture because
that one is enrolled in the University of Life?

Of all the tiny stories, which one do I tell?

Do I tell the one about the caterpillar in its
terrarium?
The one I caught wriggling and undulating,
pumping its whole body,
hard,
to shake itself loose 
of its old skin for good,
embracing its metamorphosis
instead of fighting it?

Do I tell the one of all the ordinary things
that add up to a melting pot 
of emotions
and reflection 
and trudging along,
embracing changes but dreading them 
at the same time?

Of all the tiny stories, which one gets to fly?

Summer Solstice at Stonehenge II-Texas Style

Father’s Day, 2019. My husband’s “gift” was a weekend trip to Kerrville, Tx. Nostalgic for the hot summers in the Texas Hill Country where he spent some of his summers as a camp counselor, he wanted to share some his favorite places with us.

As our trips tend to go, there was bickering on the way there. I wanted to stop in Fredericksburg to stroll into the shops on the way there. I packed sandwiches and drinks so we’d have a nice picnic lunch at a park. We get there, the kids are hangry, we unpack our lunches, the flies start annoying us and everyone is grumpy. I mange to snap a few selfies because no one wants pictures.

However, we popped into Dooley’s, a legit five and dime store. I swear I stepped back into my childhood. This is a place where you can still buy polyester day robes, the kind my grandma used to wore way before yoga pants and stretchy bands were a thing. Even the store fixtures time warped to their original tasks. I’m not sure if they were there in the 70s or earlier. My kids found souvenir keychains. And candy cigarettes. The kind I used to “smoke” when I was a kid that didn’t ever turn me into a real smoker. They each got a pack, the grumpy lunch experience soon forgotten. Word of advice if you go: Take cash or write a check. They don’t accept cards.

While on the road, we realized we departed for our weekend adventure on June 21st, the Summer Solstice. We also had no idea Ingram, near Kerrville, housed an art installation perfect for the occasion–Stonehenge II, along with Easter Island statue replicas.

Finding quirky roadside attractions is my favorite part of a road trip. I don’t remember how I found it. I think we were discussing the solstice. I must have searched it on my phone to read about its history and found information about all the people who travel to Stonehenge each year. It popped up on my search results and we added it to our itinerary. We were the only people there that late afternoon and ran into Chet of The Daytripper, who happened to be filming an episode for his PBS show. My son was more interested in the show and the video equipment than the replica of Stonehenge during the Summer Solstice. Sigh…

A volunteer community theater performs along the Guadalupe River. That summer they performed Madagascar-A Musical Adventure. The kids enjoyed it more than we expected. Buy the kids popcorn and soft drinks and it elevates their experience. Buy Mamma a mini bottle of wine and everyone’s happy. Like the ups and downs of the hills we travel, such is the way of a road trip. We find gems along the way, forget the grumpy parts, and take the good memories with us.

Road Trip 2020-Corona Style

“Best friends don’t necessarily have to talk every day. They don’t even need to talk for weeks. But when they do, it’s like they never stopped talking.”
Unknown

Last summer, less than a week after visiting family in the Texas Panhandle, my former college roommate called for a chat. We have the sort of friendship where we go long stretches of time without calling each other only to wind up on hours long phone calls to catch up. With social media, we keep up here and there, but it isn’t the same as an actual conversation with periodic interruptions from spouses, kids, or barking dogs.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“Michele!” my giddy self shouts.

Laughter follows and we catch up. This is how we always start. On a whim, she needs a break and wants to visit her sister who happens to live in the same town as my parents. With my husband working from home and the kids old enough to need supervision, but independent enough to keep themselves busy, I accept. A birthday gift from me to me, myself, and I. I’d hang out with my parents again, get more time with my sisters, and have much needed bff time.

It’s a good seven to eight hour drive for me. Coming in from the Houston area, it’s a longer drive for her. We agreed she’d make a pit stop here, we’d have a sleepover, and we’d be on our way in the morning. And off we went, in the 111 degree Texas summer heat, perfect for road tripping. Queen blasting on the radio, we reverted back to our college selves.

We were finally taking a proper road trip. We had money, actual real money! Our summers in college meant we went back home and worked a fast food stint so our families wouldn’t drive us crazy. Plus, you know, tuition and books. The summer after our freshman year, we both got jobs on campus working the summer camps for the high school kids. We didn’t have a proper summer vacation because we were broke. We didn’t even own cars. So this is how it feels to go on a summer road trip with a bestie.

We only stopped for bathroom breaks and poked around in a Wal-Mart stocking up on hand sanitizer and snacks. No one ever outgrows road trip snacks. We talked non-stop all the way to our destination. Non. Stop. We laughed so hard we cried and re-lived hilarious memories and stopped cold when we understood things we thought we knew but didn’t know at the time, especially the part about understanding how broke we really were. And here we are.

My sisters have adopted her as a sister as well. We learned more about each other on that trip, things we thought we already knew. Deeper insights, but with more maturity. On our way back home, we stopped by our campus. I only spent two years there before transferring to The University of Texas. It looked the same, but different. We pulled into a parking spot in front of Stafford Hall, minus the Stafford Hall. It’s gone now, and in its place is a parking lot. The fine arts building grew. The cafeteria still stands and we reminisced about all those Belgian waffles we ate for dinner, long Saturdays of sleeping in, but setting the alarm so we wouldn’t miss lunch that day.

Life was easier then, but it wasn’t. It’s easier now, but it isn’t. We could’ve gone anywhere, but our time in the car was what counted most. What we needed most. What we still need.

They Hate Road Trips-2021

This is the first of my summer road trip musings, in reverse order to my childhood.

I grew up in the Texas panhandle, New Mexico nearby, but we never went there when I was a kid. No snow skiing or summer hikes for us. Our summer vacations, if we had one, were usually to south Texas to visit my dad’s side of the family. If we were lucky, we’d get to visit the beach, but we mostly stayed at my grandma’s and visited family.

The past two years, summer vacation plans fell through. We always go back home to visit our family, but now we travel north. Last week we spent the first half of our vacation with family and then invited my mom to tag along with us for a few days in New Mexico. Six years before, almost to the day, we attended the U.F.O. Festival in Roswell, spent a day at Carlsbad Caverns, slid down the dunes in White Sands, and did a tiny bit of hiking in Ruidoso.

Albuquerque and Santa Fe were our destinations this year and I wanted to stop at as many roadside attractions as possible. In reality, we didn’t stop as often as I anticipated. I had a grand plan to map out everything, but the beginning of summer break had us busy with day long projects for two weeks straight. Not much time for planning. As I got lost in the depths of Pinterest and the web, I decided we’d play it by ear. I started my sightseeing list, asked the kids to do their own research and give me suggestions (they didn’t), and quickly realized we’d need more than three days to do everything. Plan B: do what we can with the time we have.

We stayed at a beautiful home in Albuquerque via Vrbo. We bought enough groceries to prepare breakfast and dinner. When we arrived, I almost didn’t want to leave the house. I spent the mornings on the front porch of the courtyard sipping my coffee while watching hummingbirds and other birds I couldn’t identify stop by the fountain for their morning sips of water. My mom joined me and we took our time catching up. It had been almost a year since I’d seen her.

The kiddos, right before they ditched us. I’ll take what I can get.

In Santa Fe, we went to Meow Wolf, the immersive art exhibit in a remodeled bowling alley. The kids ditched us. We went on our own and had a great time anyway. Parents with younger kids wrangled and steered them in the direction they needed to go. Some hollered at them to figure out where they had wandered off–there are lots of nooks, crannies, and secret passages. I don’t miss those days. But here I am, without my own kids. I didn’t experience their wonder or joy, but they did show me their pictures. Sigh…

We headed out for lunch then for some shopping. Even if they’re older, they still get tired. I didn’t get to pop in to as many shops as I would’ve liked. They aren’t much into shopping unless it’s for candy or ice cream. Kids have a way of telling you things without telling you things. It was hot and they were done with the walking even though they’d been fed. It doesn’t stop at toddlerhood.

We spent the following day in Albuquerque. The oldest didn’t want to join us and I didn’t prod. This is probably our last full-family road trip. Heading back to Texas, we stopped at a large souvenir shop I remember from my own last full-family road trip to Las Vegas before my senior year of high school. It’s funny, no matter how old the kids get, there’s still the allure of filling up a little bag of polished rocks. Although they had their own spending money, I bought them both said little bags full of rocks, the youngest correcting me, “They’re crystals, Mom, not rocks.”

As we got back onto the highway, my mom announced she bought me a little something. I turned around and she handed me a small plastic rectangle. I flipped it over and discovered my name printed on it. I squealed like a twelve year old on a road trip. There’s still the allure of getting a little license plate souvenir keychain with your name on it, no matter how old you get.

Let Us Eat Cake

When I was in high school I frequently baked. I grew up in a tiny town. There wasn’t much to do or anywhere to go, so I baked. Plus, my grandfather’s sweet tooth needed sustenance. My husband takes over in the kitchen, usually. By the time I get around to baking something, he’s already beat me to it. Last week, my daughter turned 12. I asked if she wanted me to bake a cake for her and she declined. There’s a strawberry cake from our grocery store’s bakery she enjoys and that’s what she requested. I didn’t try to convince her otherwise. We celebrated her day with an HEB strawberry cake topped with strawberries and white chocolate curls.

Three days after her birthday, we get to celebrate Father’s Day. I have a track record for important events catching up to me and I’m scrambling to get everything ready on time. Why break tradition? I spent most of Friday with said twelve year old watching too many shows on Disney, but hey, summer break.

Saturday morning, I realize I have nothing for Father’s Day. Sure, the kids need to do their part, but I’m the one who has been organizing the celebration since I birthed them.

This year will be different and I’ll be ready. Nope. It hit me head-on.

I planned to have a gift ready and to bake a cake my husband would flip over. I’m searching for the recipe on my phone in the cookware section of the grocery store. Thank goodness for phones. I found the ingredients and continued with my shopping. I didn’t buy a gift. There were a few tech items I planned to gift him, but he beat me to it. He broke the rule about buying something before a big holiday. Oh well. That’s how it goes. Always.

At around 9:00 that night, I start baking the cake. There’s some game he’s watching on TV. I pop in my earbuds and listen to my audiobook while I do my best to whip it up. I don’t mind baking, but cleaning up is the worst. I took a deep breath and got lost in my book while I beat the batter, put the pans in the oven, toasted coconut, and mixed up the frosting. The cakes didn’t stick to the pan-win! I had plenty of frosting-win! It fit perfectly on the cake stand I bought earlier this year-win!

I set it on the table, almost a full twelve hours before we’d cut into it. As time consuming as it was, for some reason it didn’t feel like such a chore. Maybe it was my lack of preparation that helped me power through rather than giving up and buying another strawberry cake. Maybe I felt I was secretly competing with him to make an over the top cake I knew he had never tasted. (This recipe is from my high school days and it’s only the second time I’ve made it.) Maybe I came to terms with rolling with the ebbs and flows of life to do the best I can.

Sunday afternoon, we cut thick slices of a coconut cake with cream cheese frosting. Sure enough, it wins the hubster over. We had a virtual tasting with my dad via Face Time. I missed my grandfather and imagined him sitting with us, me dishing out a double sized slice for him served with a piping hot cup of coffee. It’s been a while since I’ve baked cakes. I think they want to visit us more often.

*Get the recipe here.

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