phatDonna

When it’s been over 100 degrees for about a hundred days in a row, and Rick Perry is in the news turning us all into a punchline, it’s hard to remember why anyone would want to live in Texas.

But I love Texas. I have moved away from Texas and come back four times. I will not leave again. They will have to pry Texas out of my cold dead hands. And here is why.

I actually love the weather here. This summer is not the norm. Sure, it is hot, and we have plenty of 100 degree days. But I consider that penance for having practically no winter. We get one, maybe two, snow/ice events every winter. If I have a choice between hot summers and slogging through dirty slush and ice and seeing nothing but snow for four months out of the year, my money is on summer. We can grill pretty much year round. Drinking on a patio at a restaurant is a year-round possibility too.

Texas geography is amazing. We have mountains, beach, plains, hills and forrest land all in one state. Strangely enough, though, we only have one natural lake in the entire state. We are home to diverse species of animals and plants. I know you know Texas is big but did you know that it takes longer to drive from Dallas to El Paso than it does to get from El Paso to California? That DFW International Airport is bigger than the island of Manhattan? That the King Ranch is bigger than the entire state of Rhode Island?

There is still so much open space here, and it makes my heart happy to see it. When I drive between Austin and Dallas along Interstate 35, I love that there are stretches of country in which you won’t see anything but hills, fences and cattle. And if you are lucky enough to be making the drive in April, you will be treated to this:

Texas is state with a rogue history. This land was so sought after that several wars were fought over it and in its history has been under the Spanish, Mexican, French, Confederate, Republic of Texas and the United States flags. Texas is the only state that joined the US by treaty and not by annexation. It is the only state in the union with the right to fly the state flag at the same level as the American flag, because we were once our own nation.

We remember the Alamo. We know what the Yellow Rose of Texas is really about. We invented Dr Pepper. We are home to Dell, NASA, and Neiman Marcus.

Sure, the majority of Texans you see in the news these days are of the conservative persuasion. But we are also the state of Ann Richards and Molly Ivins. We are the home of Mary Kay, Buddy Holly, Carol Burnett, Janis Joplin, Walter Cronkite, and Joan Crawford.

Texas is an amazing mixture of cowboys, Southern Belles, and hippies.  It hurts my heart to have the nation think we are all a bunch of gun-toting right wing nutjobs who want to secede from the union. I won’t go into a political rant here because if you read here, you know my politics.

But please world, don’t judge us by our governor(s). Texas is damn good place to live.

You may all go to Hell, and I will go to Texas.
Davy Crockett

Oh y’all. My heart has just now returned to a normal rhythm. What an evening we have had here!

I’ll start at the beginning. Two years ago, when Bridget and I moved in here, she had this propensity to wander at night. I was terrified she would leave the house and be found wandering down the street at 2 am. So The EX kindly put a new door knob on her bedroom door and put it on backwards so that the lock was on the outside. I can now lock her in her room. This has been quite handy over the past two years.

Tonight Bridget and I were in her room, talking on the phone to The EX. That’s when she did it. My sweet little Bridget locked the door and shut us in her room.

At first I didn’t panic. I had The EX still on the phone and I laughingly asked him how to get out. He gave me some advice, which sounded logical, but then I realized that her door knob and lock were not of the variety he was thinking. So that wouldn’t work. Her lock isn’t a little push button, it’s a twisty thing (technical term)

Thank dog we were on the phone when this happened or I would have had no way to contact the outside world. I realized quickly that my dear friends who live nearby have a key to my house. But I was quickly disheartened to realize that would do no good because I had the deadbolt on. Even with a key, there was no way for anyone to get into my house to save me.

I called my dad for advice. We played MacGyver  for a while, trying to find things in Bridget’s room to fashion into regular tools, but nothing worked. At one point I had a book, a nail and picture hanger (from some of Bridget’s wall art that I took down), and her night light trying to make something work. I tried taking the door off its hinges, but without a screwdriver and a hammer, it was useless.

Finally I was able to bend the picture hanger and make a tiny screwdriver and removed the inside half of the door knob. Unfortunately that lock would NOT let go for anything in the world. I then tried to kick the door to break it – DONNA SMASH! I’m a pansy ass girl. That didn’t work. (Note to self, join CrossFit ASAP)

I was out of ideas. My dad was out of ideas. I called Sarah for the non-emergency number for the fire department. This was not a route I wanted to take, because oh my god they were going to smash in my front door with axes. Fun for them, but it would leave me in a pickle for how to keep murderers and rapists out of my house all night. But I had no choice. I figured maybe they’d find a way to secure me back in here.

Then it dawned on me that FIREMEN HAVE LADDERS! All they had to do was climb up to Bridget’s window and they could chop the shit out of her door if necessary and get me the FUCK out of there.

(Did I mention that about 20 minutes into this debacle Bridget had to “go potty really bad!”?  I put down one of her blankets in the corner and told her to go there, because I could easily throw it in the wash and it would be as good as new. She proceded to take one of the biggest shits of her young life on that blanket. Then she peed as a finishing touch.)

My saviors arrived and thankfully they did not have the sirens on. I was able to speak to them and tell them to just use the ladder, which I think disappointed them somewhat. The were up there quick as a wink and somewhat vindicated me by having to struggle with the door knob for a few minutes even WITH proper tools. I’m not as helpless as I appear.

Oh. You know how it’s this big myth that firefighters are Adonis-like figures that grace the pages of calendars with rippling muscles , but every one you see in real life is fat, hairy and ugly? Yeah, the three that were in my house were smokin’ hot. And I was a hot mess. In a stuffy room that smelled like shit.

Bridget charmed them, they were kind enough to put the screen back on for me AND reassemble her doorknob, they petted the dog and then were on their way.

Lessons learned from tonight:

1. Don’t put the deadbolt on the front door until I go to sleep for the night. Sorry Dad, but don’t ever tell me to lock up again.

2. Keep a screwdriver hidden somewhere in Bridget’s room so that I know where it is but she can’t find it and somehow kill herself with it.

3. Probably also keep some vodka hidden in there too.

Now, I wonder if it would be cheesy to bring them some baked goods as a thank you for saving my ass and my front door. This time I’ll be wearing makeup and the jeans that make my ass look fantastic.

My tattoo is all healed up, but in the process I ruined my bedding. The first two nights when I slept in my bed, the gross combination of ointment, ink and blood got on my sheets and comforter, despite my best efforts. After many attempts at cleaning, I’m calling it a loss. Now I get to go shopping for new bedding. I love what I have now, and I might even replace it but I don’t think they make it anymore.

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BlogHer was amazing, as always. I thought it was perfect to have only a Party and Expo pass, especially since most everyone I talked to was just “meh” about the sessions they attended. I didn’t feel like I missed out on a lot. There were a couple of sessions I would have liked to go to simply because of the people on the panels, but all in all I was happy. The weather was gorgeous, the parties were fun, and I got to spend time with some amazing women. I roomed with Erica and Megan and we had such a good time. I’d never met Megan before and I was worried that my potty mouth was going to offend her, but soon we were all three cussing like sailors. It was like we had to meet a quota of profanity before we returned to our children. The sad thing is that I didn’t get to spend much time with some of my favorite women. We exchanged hugs as we passed each other at parties or in the hotel lobby, but I didn’t get quality time with them. Which has me thinking of going to Mom 2.0 again, which I said I wasn’t going to do.

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Apparently life imitates art around here. Last night, Bridget wanted to go to her bathroom to play pond. I usually allow this because she knows how far she can fill her sink, and all she wants to do is make a place for her Barbies to swim. But when I went to check up on her, I discovered that she had squirted her entire tube of toothpaste into the sink.

Now, do any of you out there remember the Ramona Quimby books? I can’t remember which book it was, but Ramona squeezes out the toothpaste from the brand new family tube. Her mom puts it all in a baggie and makes Ramona continue to use that toothpaste while the rest of the family gets to use toothpaste from a new tube. That’s exactly what I did to Bridget. I know she squeezed out this tube because she doesn’t like the flavor as much as her other. But after I saw what she did, I put the one she likes in my room, and she will be dipping her toothbrush into a plastic baggie of toothpaste until it’s all gone.

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My traveling is winding down. I only have one more trip planned this year, and that’s to DisneyWorld with Bridget in October. I really am committed to trying to create a whole life here in Austin, complete with friends that actually live here. That being said, I’m still open to a trip somewhere for Thanksgiving.

The EX will have Bridget, which I totally encourage because I hate Thanksgiving anyway. I know people feel sad for me when they hear that I am on my own for Thanksgiving. But they needn’t bother. I don’t like that holiday. I never have. It’s always seemed to me to just be a big pain in the ass for little payoff. I can be just as thankful over pizza and beer as I can over a huge meal that took days to prepare, probably even more thankful knowing my ass doesn’t have to go clean it all up. I refuse to spend five hours driving to Dallas, when it should only take three hours, to sit through a meal I don’t want. The last two years I have scheduled myself to work all day, watched movies and made the couple Thanksgiving things I really like and called it good.

So if any Thanksgiving Orphans out there are hankering for a trip somewhere, I’m game. Or I could host an Orphan’s Thanksgiving here, but I am not cooking any damn turkey.

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I am considering starting CrossFit. I think I’m insane. I know YOU think I’m insane. But I remember how much I LOVED the way I felt after my personal trainer kicked my ass for an hour twice a week. I hated it while it was happening but I had such an endorphin rush when it was over. I could really get back into that. Except I can’t afford a personal trainer anymore. And CrossFit seems equally, if not more, sadistic than he was.