Bigger and Nicer

Let me tell ya,
things are bigger in Texas.

Our first night there, our ride, from a badass Uncle in a huge truck, took us on a terrible and long detour (too much construction around DFW Airport) through the cold darkness.
But there was a cooler in the back full of (high point!) beer and we stopped for a Whataburger.
I had never had a Whataburger, and being a fan of burgers, Eli saw one on the side of the highway and hollered "PULL IN HERE!!!"
And it was the biggest burger I have ever had, including the expensive 1/2 pound ones at fancy restaurants, and this was just a typical Texas fast food burger.
Chas (the badass Uncle) told me that it is some of the best cheap beef you'll ever find and I don't know if it was the late hour and excitement of being in a new place, or the fact that I'd been on a strict anti-candida diet for 2 weeks and I was indulging, but that Whataburger was DAMN GOOD.
If we had had time, I would definitely have enjoyed another one before we left, but alas all of our other meals were booked out to enjoy Ft. Worth's finest food.

We stayed with my hubby's aunt and uncle in their beautiful Cape Cod style home outside of Ft. Worth.
We slept in a tiny bed that pulls out of a closet of some sort, in the boys' play room.  There were murals of fish all over the walls and it was all blue, so it felt like we were sleeping in a small underwater grotto, complete with ceiling fan!
The third night I slept walked and I'm not sure quite what I did, but I woke up with bruised ribs the next day!!
That was also the day when my body started screaming for mercy from all the grease we were consuming. Texas food is tasty but sooooooooooo fattening.

Which was nice, in a way, because in Utah I am classified as a "curvy girl" compared to these stick thin blondes that compete in pageants and think taking their babies to the grocery store is a secret beauty contest.  Yes, I am blonde, but I am lazy blonde.  In Utah women are BLOOOOOONDE and keep up on their hair appointments and use the expensive conditioners to maintain their golden sheen.  I can't afford my stylist right now and I'm being good if I remember to throw in a few highlights 'round my bangs every couple weeks.
Salt Lake women scare me.  They're just so judgmental and seemingly perfect and everywhere you go in Utah people give you the stink eye. Who knows why.

But in Texas, I am considered thin.  Shockingly thin, apparently!! This was news to me.
I had several people on several occasions, including strangers, exclaim over how "tiny" I am.
Even Eli started heaping my plate with more barbecue, saying "you need more meat on your bones!!"

I embraced this wholeheartedly!
Enjoying my food rather than feeling guilty about it reminds me of this quote I like:

As a people, we have become obsessed with Health.  There is something fundamentally, radically unhealthy about all this.  We do not seem to be seeking more exuberance in living as much as staving off failure, putting off dying.  We have lost all confidence in the human body.
-Lewis Thomas



And the girls there in Texas are nice.  Not fake, simpering-smile-then-death-stare-once-you-turn-your-back nice, but genuinely sweet and thoughtful.  It blew me away.
I was suspicious of it at first, being a born and raised Utahn, but it is true.
In Texas you can have a deep and meaningful and hysterical conversation with a stranger, and they don't want anything out of it...by that I mean, well, it is difficult to phrase, but in Utah strangers don't just engage one another on the bus or in line at the restaurant, because they don't see the point.  In Texas, they consider minutes wasted if not in fun conversation, regardless of if you know the person and if you'll ever see them again.
It's kind of a "hey, you're a human and I'm a human and we're in the same place for a second, so how the hell are ya??"
I love it.
It might make some people uncomfortable but it makes me feel appreciated and pretty and all kumbayah.
And you can act silly in public and no one rolls their eyes at you!! They laugh with you.

I was trying on a shirt at Eli's favorite BBQ joint, where even his Dad grew up munching on pulled pork, and the girls working there weren't rushing me going "So do you want the medium or the large???" and acting impatient.  They were enjoying picking out the right shirt with me and told me that this particular shade of yellow looks swell on me and asking me nice questions about myself.  Like they cared! And they did!
And they weren't looking me up and down in a snide way like the Utah women do.
How refreshing!

Just the other day, after Eli and I got back from this splendid trip, we were getting some new shoes for him and in a jam-packed store, and he needed to sit down to try them on and all the little shoe benches were packed with people.  One of them had a woman sitting by herself, for no apparent reason (she wasn't trying on shoes) and there was room for someone else, so Eli said "do you mind if I share with you for a minute?" and she looked at him, eyebrows narrowed, didn't respond, and continued to sit there!  He waited a second, then sighed and sat down on the smallest amount of the bench possible.
She immediately stood up and took off.   He looked at me and said "I miss Texas."
So true.  It really put things into perspective.

I didn't realize people could be so nice, and experiencing it firsthand made me see how mean I can be, being a Utahn myself.  You don't even realize the prejudice that gets into your spirit here, but when you're given the stare-down on a daily basis, you start to do it too, and maybe even get preemptively snarky in anticipation of everyone else's attitude. Not healthy.
I'm trying to keep the lessons of Texas fresh in my heart, as they were very uplifting.

I am also trying to remind myself that I look goooooooood, particularly in the eyes of Texans, but also anywhere.  Because although I'm not what Utah girls deem "perfect," I shouldn't be feeling guilty about me curves when a few states away I am considered hot shit,
and, even better,
appreciated for my spunk, goofiness, and brains.

Don't bring me down, Utah!

The Truth About Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving all!
What a fun holiday to get together with family and get in the Christmas mood as we gleefully commit the sin of gluttony, all while reciting our many blessings!
That sounds sarcastic, but in reality it is in accurate description of Thanksgiving and it sounds pretty awesome to me!

As I write this, Eli and I are noshing on donuts and cider and watching the parade, which features a huge Sponge Bob balloon looking like it is suffering from polio.  Hmm...

Anyhow, I enjoy celebrating Thanksgiving and all it entails, but it has always bothered me how the joyfully ignorant tell their kids "This was the day when the pilgrims and the Indians sat down and ate together!!!"

Ugh.

On the same subject, when we received our voter pamphlets this year, one of Utah's amendments was regarding setting aside part of tax money to go toward what they called "an Indian trust fund."

Really?! We sending money over to them peeps in India now??!

Keep in mind that was from a federal political document. What. The. F*ck.  Yes, I'm sending them a strongly worded letter.

People have been terrible about that lately (and always, lets be honest).

They ain't Indians, America! They're Native Americans, cos they were here before us.  No offense.

And on Thanksgiving, many Native Americans on the East Coast celebrate too.

But for them it isn't about Butterball turkeys and spiked cider--it is a day of mourning.

Because the pilgrims destroyed their way of life.

Nearly 90% of coastal New England Native Americans were killed in the early years of settlement, from smallpox mainly, and the settlers were more than willing to take their land off their hands.

Some historians also argue that the picture we paint of the natives and pilgrims sitting down at the table together, after sharing their mutual culinary beliefs, is an illusion as well, instead arguing that after pilfering native crops on several occasions, the pilgrims saw the natives celebrating their harvest and crashed their party.

What happened in what is now Mystic, Connecticut, validates this theory.

The Pequot tribe was having their annual Green Corn Festival and some crack ass crazy Puritans stormed in and shot them, clubbed them, and burned them to death - - more than 700 Native Americans, woman and children included.

Apparently Massachusetts Bay Governor Winthrop proclaimed this a "day of Thanksgiving" in 1637, thanking God for giving the settlers strength over the heathen natives.

When you compare that to the revisionist history that is pleasantly taught in schools today, it makes you shudder a bit.  I know I always have to bite my tongue when my nephews and niece come home from school with construction paper Native American headdresses and crayon scrawls of pilgrims, and members of both cultures holding hands. Oh, our Mandatory Miseducation...

 I know we can't tell kids "Our ancestors slaughtered the Native Americans, buddy! More than 10 million natives were slaughtered in the name of colonial progress and religion! Let me tell you how it really happened..."  but we do need to provide different versions of history and elucidate the truth as they get older, because we're just creating new generations of ignorant Americans--the same kind that think the reason we're at odds with the Middle East is because they're jealous of our democracy.

We can still teach them about Squanto instructing pilgrims on planting squash and that in some villages there was friendship between natives and the new settlers, but we need to balance those accounts with the more disturbing side of history (every part of history has a disturbing side! And it is usually more interesting!). Just "Google" anything related to "truth about Thanksgiving" or "Thanksgiving revisionist history" to educate yourself.  Lies My Teacher Told Me is also a fun resource.

So, on this Thanksgiving, please remember your American history.

Be thankful that information is available to give us the truth and that you have the right to believe what you choose.  Be thankful that you can be with your family and feast on turkey with cranberry relish.  Be thankful for polio Sponge Bob and American capitalism and the commercialism of Christmas (I guess it means the economy is coming back).  Be thankful for elves dancing Gangnam Style.
And be thankful for the wonderful diversity of the world, and our country.

AND DON'T CALL THEM INDIANS.

Please forgive my history nerd cynicism, and truly enjoy the holiday.

Happy Thanksgiving!

With a Little Twang

Back home from Texas, sadly!

I had the time of my life. It was literally the best, and not what I expected out of the state at all!
It gave me a whole new outlook on life and I feel like I'm coming back with a fresh perspective to go along with my new waistline (I must have gained 7 or 8 pounds, seriously...my stomach is killing me from all the fried crap and I am sooooo bloated, but it was soooo worth it).

I had a job interview this morning and it went splendidly, if all goes according to plan I will be starting in mid-December (or a bit earlier if I can wrangle it).

I am exhausted and still dealing with the aftermath of my head cold... my voice isn't entirely back, but what is there has a little twang to it (I pick up accents quickly and loved what I heard in Texas).
I've already done the grocery shopping, gorged myself (by body is having naughty cravings after this little vacation), and now I have a ton of laundry to catch up on and Thanksgiving to prepare for.

A Side Note: I can't wait until we get our own washer and drier--the convenience will be unimaginable.

I have stories to tell and photos to share, but don't have the time this moment.
I will post them soon, but until then, here is a little teaser.

Planning Texas

Tomorrow the hubby and I leave for Texas.
I could not be more thrilled (well, if my sinuses weren't so congested I may be able to manage a bit more excitement, but part of me irrationally feels like as soon as we step glamorously off that plain, my head cold is going to just dry up and Poof!).

I have never been to Texas, except when we had a layover there last year on our way to our Caribbean honeymoon.  And we didn't even get to go outside--I just felt bursts of humid heat when we got on and off that big tram thing they have at the airport. I wonder how my skin and hair are going to react to the humidity..?

Eli, on the other hand, is well versed in the Texas-ness.
He grew up there and the majority of his extended family still lives there, and we'll be staying with them.
I absolutely love his Texas family--they've been visiting us in Utah quite a lot lately and this spring we went with them on that trip to Zion (remember, when I cut off the top of my finger in that town so small it didn't have a hospital?).

His aunt is soooooo Texan and larger than life, and her son is a sweet little chunk that loves to flirt with me.  And she is also larger than life generous.  When a dear family member recently died, she fought the courts and won, and was able to adopt the new baby that said family member died giving birth to.
His name is Logan (they, in true Texas fashion of giving everyone a nickname) call him Lo-Lo and already he is a curly-haired hellian! Adorable though.
And then there are the cousins and the uncles and of course, my love, Charlene, Eli's grandma.
She is a true Southern belle and we have had many a memory together, from giggling over martinis in Vegas to baking Christmas pies together to hanging out in the hospital when she got stuck here with pneumonia that she somehow, despite her frail state, powered through.  She is a tough cookie that loves the color purple and calls everyone "honey."  But with her heavy accent, it comes out "huun--aaaaaay."

We will be going to a Dallas Cowboys game on Sunday.
I have been rooting for this team (on behalf of Eli, of course...unspoken rule) for years, and now I finally get to see them play! It will also be my first official NFL football game.

Other plans for the trip are going to the little city on the outskirts of Fort Worth where Eli grew up.
He had a sugary sweet childhood in a development known as Pecan Plantation, that (wait for it)
really was full of pecan trees!
His dad used to make his famous pecan pie from the fruits of those trees,
and there was a park (and apparently still is a park) across from their house, and a river running next to it that they used to play in, water moccasins be damned.
Ever since I saw Lonesome Dove I have been deathly fearful of water moccasins. And he grew up swimming with them! Ye Gawds.
Also, I may have spent 20 minutes yesterday looking at photos of the poisonous snakes of Texas.  Call me paranoid, call me preventative.  Okay, that is kind of nuts.

But, I must confess, I am most looking forward to this trip because I can finally visit Dealey Plaza.
Hopefully when I say "Dealey Plaza" you know what the hell I am talking about.
If not, please, in my absence, smack yourself across the face with a modern history book.

Dealey Plaza is where President Kennedy was assassinated.
You know, the Grassy Knoll and Texas School Book Depository and all that.

I have spent years (literally! YEARS!) of my life researching the Kennedys, particularly Jack and Bobby, and I wrote my history dissertation on them.  I am fascinated by JFK's assassination and the blatant cover-up, and I never cease to wonder when (if ever) we will glean some shard of the truth about it.  E. Howard Hunt confessed on his deathbed that he was involved, but he didn't say HOW or WHY.   I still tend to think WHY is the military industrial complex and the fact that he was pulling America out of the Vietnam War.  But that's just me!

Anyway, we'll be there a few days before the 49th anniversary of the shooting and I know I am just going to have a meltdown, running through the plaza and seeing the museum in the Book Depository (but, suspiciously, they will not let visitors look out of the window that Oswald SUPPOSEDLY shot Kennedy from.  Because any numbskull could see that it's an impossible shot.  Especially when you're a bad marksman, like Oswald, using a Carcano rifle, with the sights not set accurately, etc.  But I won't go into that).

After spending so much of my life poring over maps of the plaza, and watching documentaries about the Grassy Knoll, I may or may not have had the foresight to buy waterproof mascara for that day.
(Hint: I did buy it, I'm a crybaby).

I only regret that my bestie, Torie, can't be there with me. She too is a JFK lover and understands the tragedy and history of the assassination.

I will let you know how it goes.
Giddy up!