Category Archives: Hot

Hey Rangers, Are You Paying Attention?

Not only did my beloved St. Louis Cardinals kick the ass of my adopted hometown Texas Rangers in the World Series last year, now they offer this:

For $30 you can sample a *bajillion different beers by Anheuser-Busch before the game, and then get to watch the Cards kick some Pirate ass.

Too bad I’m over 600 miles away from Busch Stadium, because I’d be all over this.

I just hope someone in the promotions department for the Rangers sees this.

It’s 350 degrees in Texas in August. 

Why don’t we have a beer-sampling? 

I’m betting there’s a connection between all that beer influence and the Cardinals’ success over the years.

Prove me wrong, Rangers.


*bajillion may just translate to six, but I like to think I’d be allowed some journalistic license here


Well, There Goes the Neighborhood

*adjusts tiara, tightens gloves and poises fingers over keyboard*

Well, I’ll be damned.

CNN Money has named the little town I live in as one of the “100 Best Places to Live: 2011”

There’s going to be no living with us now.

We’re going to need a whole new wardrobe, and hair and nails and you know while we are at it we will need new furniture.

And the paint…sigh…it’s totally wrong for the new furniture.

And the floors!

Definitely have to change those. 

While I’m at it, our car is getting on up there in mileage, and the ashtray is full….

Sigh….the price we pay for celebrity. 

But, look…isn’t it worth it?

This is either a golf course, or someone's lawn with a serious case of grub infestation. Which a town as awesome as ours wouldn't have in the first place, so it must be a golf course.

Duck Mafia

Remember my new “friends”?

Heh..heh…yeah, well….

They’re trying to kill us.

Or, more specifically – me.

They’re trying to kill me, only I don’t think black duck really has his heart into it.  He just seems to take orders from white duck.

And white duck is a total wiseguy.

And, yes, I’ve decided these two are male.

Sexist? Probably. But I’m betting no female ducks would try to kill me just because I forgot the crackers……again.

And that’s what happened last weekend.  

We went to the marina and spent a lovely 150 degree day out on the boiling waters of the lake.  

After many hours of baking in the sun, sweating like a whore in church on Sunday, I cried “uncle” and we headed back to the dock.

This is where it gets weird.

We hadn’t seen the ducks that day.  The last time we’d seen them I had forgotten the crackers, but they were all like, “Quack, quack, quack” as they swam away, which I could only interpret as “No biggie – we’ll get some next time.”

We had, however, seen a definite increase in mallard duck presence.  Duck turf wars being what they are, I presumed that white duck and black duck had lost the battle and had taken up residence elsewhere.

I was wrong.

Not only was I wrong, I was unprepared for the sudden return of black duck and white duck and their excruciatingly loud demand for blood crackers.

They waited, the sneaky bastids, until the boat was on the lift and I was preparing to step off onto the rail and then down on the dock before suddenly appearing out of nowhere onto the lift’s pontoon directly beneath me, squawking at the top of their little mob-duck lungs and scaring the absolute bejabbers out of me.

Their covert attack apparently achieved the desired effect as I swayed forward and backward like some completely blitzed gymnast, certain the fall onto the heavy metal structure below would put holes in my body that juuuuuuuuuusst might be inconsistent with a pain-free, bloodless existence.

My husband missed this life-and-death struggle and didn’t take notice of me until I was finally able to grab the dock’s support pole and slide/spin around it like a stripper, landing with a thud on the dock.

“What are you doing?” He asked, an eyebrow raised.

Ever cool, I replied, “Practicing.”

“Oh. Okay. You ready to go?” He asked, gathering up the last of our things and putting them in the cart.

“Yeah, sure.” I replied, now breathless and shaking a little, I followed him down the walkway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that black duck and white duck were following us in the water…their little duck bodies gliding silently across the surface.

I swear they were laughing.

*Note to self: Next time, bring crackers….*

Guess What?

Wait, did I already use that title in a post…..

*almost looks, then decides she’s too lazy*


Where was I?

Oh yeah…guess what?

It’s hot in Texas.

News flash.  It’s August and it’s hot in Texas.

Hot heat is hot…in Texas.

See?  And that’s in the shade.

Where was I going with this?  I forgot, because it’s HOT in TEXAS!
Oh, yes…it’s really hot and did I mention it’s hot?
Normally, it’s hot in the summer here, but this is Death Valley hot.  No, this is surface of the sun hot.
It’s so hot, several radio stations have taken to experimenting with cooking in the car. 
Mostly, they got gooey cookie dough and slightly congealed egg whites for their efforts.  
Me?   I got blisters on my feet from being lazy.  
Maybe I should explain – see I went outside on the back (concrete) porch for a second to I don’t know..see how how hot it is?…and burned my feet in the shade.
Yes, it’s so hot that the concrete will burn your feet.  Even in the shade.
*note to self – take a moment to slip on those flip-flops from now on, because after 36 years in Texas you can’t seem to remember that it’s HOT in the summer here*
Last week, we had a tropical storm visit.  His name was Don.
I come bearing gifts!

 As we all prepared for the deluge, somebody shut the front door and Don dissipated over South Texas.


I can’t count how many times I heard some meterolozo metrozi weatherman marvel at the fact that Don had dissipated. There was much clucking and marveling going on at the Weather Channel.

Marvel this, buddy.

It’s HOT and my brain is a puddle in my head.

Would you care to meet the Wand of Doom?

You keep marveling at our heat and lack of rain, and you will.

You will….just let me find my flip-flops…