Monday, June 28, 2010

I'm covered.


Here's what I know:
  • Rumors was probably one of Fleetwood Mac's best albums.
  • Mates of State is my favorite married couple band.
  • I am not particularly gifted with Microsoft Paint.
All of these things combined explain why I've been jamming to this song:




Sunday, June 27, 2010

Tea time!

Between the months of June and September, the state of Texas becomes completely unreasonable. Weeks ago, temperatures began the climb into the upper 90s with heat indices dancing in the triple digits. Thus, I returned to my state of perpetual sweat and now seek slivers of shade underneath trees or behind signs as I wait for the bus. I even have a spare shirt stashed in my office.

Even native Texans find the summer heat unbearable, although what separates them from the rest is their willingness to be outdoors anyway. Me? Not so much. No matter how slow I walk, or how early I get up in the morning, Texas is just too hot to a girl who can easily conjure up memories of Wisconsin summers - a magical place where when the sun goes down, so does the heat. A place that doesn't feel like you are constantly standing behind the exhaust pipe of a bus.

That's not to say that I haven't made progress. With one summer already under my belt, I've made crazy remarks like, "Ninety degree days aren't that uncomfortable in the shade" or "Screw it, let's just go outside anyway." Of course, it's only June. I have barely begun the fight.

Texas summers are just reverse winters, anyway - the majority of time you're indoors, and you keep an eye on the news for weather warnings, only this time it's the heat, not snow, that's the culprit. On the bright side, you don't have to shovel the sun. Still, summer is the pits here. But in an attempt to be positive, I plan to occasionally share with you all of the things that keep Texas summers from turning completely into Dante's Inferno.

Starting with Sun Tea. Oh, how I love iced tea. When I manage to greet the great outdoors, it's usually with a glass of iced tea in hand (not to mention SPF 50 and a floppy hat). I love seeing jars of sun tea brewing on folk's front porches around the neighborhood. Iced tea is even a big business around here, although I draw the line at sweet tea which is a great example of how too much of a good thing is just gross.

When my outdoor plant died due to heat exposure and owner negligence, my sun tea jar took its place. It's better use of the space, anyway. A few weeks back, I read an article about the bacterial problems with sun tea. I brought this up to a colleague who responded, "If there was any true danger from making sun tea, 80% of the South would be dead by now." I cringed at his response. Wait, I live in the South?!

Oh, well. No matter where I live, iced tea = summertime. I guess it will just depend on my future locations as to whether I actually enjoy the summertime or not. But that's beside the point.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Not under control.

Years ago, a professor glanced at me behind a stack of papers and said, "You know, you can't control the universe, Laura." This, my friends, is an infuriating thing to say to a control freak. Sometimes, a person just doesn't want to hear the truth. And that person is me.

I spent almost a week in the hospital this month. I shuffled around in half-open hospital gowns, stress ate tiny cups of ice cream, and waited. Waited to see doctors, waited in freezing cold ER rooms, waited for my pain meds to kick in. Say it with me: no control.

Let me just point out that the joy behind today's entry was not found through me relinquishing all control or surrendering to the universe. I still have no idea how to even attempt that. Instead, joy came from an awesome realization that when you do lose control, there can be people around to cushion the blow. They can spend all day with you in the ER and claim they wouldn't have gotten as far on their class reading if they hadn't. They can pick up cups of iced coffee because they know you're addicted, and they can harass the nurse until she finally tells them when the doctor is expected to come. They take vacation days just to sit by you while you blubber like an idiot because you don't want to have that spinal tap.

When you don't have control of the big stuff, this is the stuff that gets you through it... and headed towards your next joyful entry.