T*ts, Tats and Toto

Last Saturday, we took S to a big waterpark in Galveston as part of her 5th birthday celebration. We had a fantastically fun day. She  went down multiple water slides by herself. We floated down the lazy river in two double-sized inner tubes, a parent with each child. And A found great joy in going down a small slide totally by herself, again and again and again.

Like with any amusement park experience, a certain amount of suspension of disbelief is necessary in order to preserve the fun tone of the occasion. For example, it is important not to look too closely at the water and give too much thought to how many hundreds of people, infants in diapers and adolescent boys looking to misbehave have splashed in the water that your five-year-old insists on swimming under water in and your two-year-old will not stop licking. In my case, it's important to maintain the belief that my sunscreen really is waterproof and repeated application will indeed protect me from the searing Texas sun. And--like in most fast food establishments--it's crucial to believe that the burgers really are fresh despite not being able to see into the dark kitchen and the fact that all the food service workers don't look old enough for a learner's permit.

These were the truths I knew before we went to Schlitterbaan. But this was the first time that I came face to face with the free self-expression of Texans. I'd seen flashes of henna-ed snakes coiling around upper arms, only slightly shielded by short-sleeved tops. Little hearts and sanscrit sayings sometimes peeked out when a babysitter in a tank top bent over to pick up a sippy cup at the park. I'd even seen multi-colored anklets etched on tanned, bronzed skin. But with the shirts off, I was able to appreciate the full scope of body art preferred by Texas men. We saw dragons spanning full backs; men labeling themselves as "sinner" or "outcast" in intricate Gothic letters across their chests; and even portraits of wives and children carefully drawn on large biceps. They men were proud. The woman weren't nearly so ostentatious with their body art. They didn't have to be. They had their own ways to reveal themselves.

I've heard that everything is bigger in Texas, but this was ridiculous. Apparently, wearing a bikini two sizes too small is de rigeur. I actually overheard a teenager telling her best friend, "if you sneeze, you're going to fall out of your top." Personally, I think an exhale would have done it. I knew that Texas was different when an online discussion in my local moms group surrounded how many moms had gotten their breast inflated after finishing breastfeeding. Not a conversation I imagine happening in Mothers and More of Snohomish County, but I hadn't realized that the obsession was so pervasive. Now, I understand the allure of a bikini when you're sun bathing at the beach. But on waterslides? When you're moving at fast speeds and dropping suddenly into deep water. M's glasses fell off. I lost my hat. What did the ladies lose? Maybe that's why the lifeguards worked so cheaply . . .

This great display of uber masculinity and feminity came with a soundtrack - hits of the 1980's. Despite myself, I found myself tapping my toes to "Africa" and mouthing the words to "Living on a Prayer" as I waited in line with S. Good job, Schlitterbaan. You have something for me as well . . . "Our house, in the middle of our street, our house . . . "

BBQ BATTLES

So, it's been a while since I've posted. I guess that I'm becoming used to the pattern of the days, going to the splash park, naptime, playing at home in the air conditioning and then going out late afternoon for swim lessons, playdates or whatever. Life is routine. Life is good. Then come Friday nights and . . . BBQ battles at the pool!

The pool in our apartment complex is surrounded by a nice deck with armchairs and tables and has a propane BBQ. Throughout the complex, there are charcoal BBQs for resident use, but only at the pool can one grill one's steak with propane. There is no sign up. It is first come, first serve. So, every Friday night, it's a race to the grill, as bearded and burned Pearlanders show up with their platters stacked high with meat, hoping to be the first to the grill. I've never seen two groups share the enormous grill, which I would think could handle multiple servings. No, those unlucky enough to be number two, find a table on the other side of the pool.

They might go for a swim while they wait. They might have a beer . . . while in the pool. They might have a smoke, again, while in the pool. But for the grill, they must wait.

PRE-K PROM

Much of my recounting so far has been to clarify assumptions that Texas is some foreign country with dusty roads, tumbleweeds blowing down deserted streets and every man wearing a belt buckle the size of his head. Baring a few creature encounters, the stores sell clothes that you can find anywhere (more sundresses of course); hair styles are remarkably unremarkable; and I see about the same number of cows and horses as I did driving around Snohomish County.

In order to get to know some folks locally, I have signed up for a moms meetup group--basically a group of moms that has an online message board and hosts occasional events. I'm basically a lurker but I like to check in. The other day, I saw a post: "PRE-K Prom & Graduation!"

My curiosity peaked. I read the post where a mom waxed enthusiastically about her daughter's PRE-K Prom, Graduation and Daddy Daughter dance. Other members chimed in with messages of support "such fun!" "make sure to post pictures" and "I'm sure she'll have a great time" as she described how her daughter was going to wear a pageant dress that she had only worn once; was looking for the high heels that her daughter insisted on wearing; and described the route that the limo they had rented was going to take to lengthen the five-minute journey to the event hall. Have a mentioned that the graduate in question is FIVE YEARS OLD!

This morning's update recounted the trauma that ensued when Pre-K Mom's husband had to work on the night of the dance, so Pre-K Princess' older brother stepped in as her escort. With corsage and boutonniere purchased, Mom was off to get her own hair done.

I can only hope that this is an isolated incident of insanity. Apparently, we're not only pushing academic expectations into the lower grades--reading before or during Kindergarten and three hours of homework in third grade--but we're also importing the social expectations as well. How wonderful that a five-year-old can experience the joy of a limo ride and a manicure, as well as the despair of having your date cancel. This is madness. No wonder folks today have little concept of delayed gratification.

Now, I'm sounding like an old curmudgeon.

Maybe, it's just this one school. Maybe it's just Texas. At Shantih's swim lesson on Friday morning, I looked around at one point and realized that out of the twelve women in the room, I was the only one who wasn't a shade of bottle blond. Maybe it's just me . . .

Feral Fowl

So, life in Texas seems to have calmed down a bit. No terrifying windstorms; no wayward crustaceans. We go to the park. We go to Little Gym. We go the grocery store. Besides noticing a copy of Ammunition Today being displayed next to Good Housekeeping or passing the overstocked gun aisle in the local sporting goods store, everything seems pretty, well everyday.

That is, of course, until we tried a new park last Thursday. There was no one else there, which I attributed to the 90-degree heat. I would have been safely ensconced in air conditioning as well, if I hadn't promised Shantih a trip to the swings as a reward for cooperating during a tour of a potential rental house.

After slathering both girls in sunscreen--an increasingly fruitless exercise with Shantih who literally absorbs the sun regardless of her SPF shield--I walked with the girls over to the picnic benches where I first observed a new possibility for the deserted state of the park.

Eek. Eek. The rusty creak of a swing rocking in the wind was the only sound as we approached a beach volleyball court that looked too much like a beach for Shantih to pass by. Both girls began playing in the sand and only I noticed that our approach had been noted. A group, a gaggle?, of six ducks lead by a large black male with red markings started waddling towards us. In an amazingly organized "v" formation they approached, with the leader staking me out coming closer and closer.

As I pulled out my new Samsung Gravity cameraphone, the flock charged mistaking my phone for some kind of white chocolate delicacy. I moved left. So did they. I moved right. I was followed. Every step I made was matched by the ever increasingly throng.

No! Alexis charged into the group yelling "Ducky" "Ducky" and holding out her hand to pet them. Fearful that they would mistake her fruity toddler fingers for a forgotten french fry, I pulled her into my arms but even her screams for me to put her down did not disperse the ducks. They were fixed, focused. I had never seen birds so intent and lacking fear. Were they beset by some avian-flu? I'd once read an article that said that animals who approach humans are likely to be rabid. I looked closely at their beaks for froth but saw only teeth--small but sharp little teeth. Were they just hungry?

I finally returned Alexis to the grass and she proceeded to toddle after the waddlers telling the birds who had moved closer to the nearby stream to "stay here." I knew it was time to leave when she climbed under a recently vacated picnic table and attempted to stick her fingers in some avian leftovers.

As we were leaving, the birds received the visitors they had been expecting. A father and daughter loaded with crumbs who proceeded to feed the entire group. Although part of me felt irritated that these feedings were what domesticated these ducks to the point of harassment, another felt simple amusement to see the lead duck wag his tail feathers like an overly-excited puppy waiting for a treat.

We'll return to the park, but in bigger numbers . . .

Crustacean Frustration

"Excuse me, ma'am, I think that there is a lobster under your car."

I challenge anyone to find a context for this sentence that would make sense without referencing a Douglas Adams book.

Yet, there I was, getting Shantih and Alexis into the car after a My Little Gym class, that a neighboring mom left her Honda Odyssey running to alert me to the crustacean lurking under my rear right tire. I bent down and looked. Yes, indeed. Red, black mottled body. Two claws. Spindly legs. A nice tail. I surmised to her out loud that it might be a large crawfish. Never having seen a crawfish this was a leap, but it looked a bit small to be a lobster and I've seen many a crawfish sign around here. Granted, the signs advertising crawfish are usually attached to a supermarket or restaurant: "Crawfish by the pound. LIVE! $4.99" or "Boiled Crawfish, ready to eat. $5.99" I've somehow missed the--DRIVE SLOWLY. CRAWFISH CROSSING--signs.

I fetched our steering wheel clamp from the car and extended the bar in an attempt to shift the creature to the middle of the car, so I wouldn't run over it on reversing. It spun around, lowered its tail, and raised its claws. I swear, the thing hissed. Hmmm, not friendly. Of course, any creature endowed with two large claws that have to be rubber banded in captivity is not likely to be the type to scuttle up and say howdy do. I tried again to shift it, but every attempt caused it to wedge itself further against my tire. Understandable I suppose. It felt safer in the shadows.

I got in the car and slowly reversed, trying not to squash him. Why, you may ask. Well, my neighbor who smirked and drove off as I took photos of the moment, proclaimed that she didn't want me to get my tire all dirty. Thanks! But, for me, I felt that any crawfish who was brave enough to end up alone in a suburban parking lot deserved a better fate than to be smooshed by a Suzuki Vitara encrusted with cheerio veneer and fruit snack lacquer.

Where did he come from? Was he washed ashore by the flooding earlier in the week, hiding in the drains until he attempted to make a break for a local creek? Was he packed in a Styrofoam cooler of brethren unexpectedly knocked over before being loaded into a car headed for a home boil? Did he leap out of a restaurant kettle making a narrow escape from being a lunchtime special?

I didn't crush him. Shantih and I waved goodbye as we headed home. However, I doubt that he made it out of the parking lot alive. But at least, I hope, that he met his end under the wheel of a Ford F350 or a Hummer or, at the very least, a Chrysler Town and Country.

RIP

One Car Two Car Red Car Blue Car

PHASE ONE: The Minivan

Before moving to Texas, I knew that Mohnie and I were going to have to give up our rare one-car family status. Buying a new car was first on our big purchase list. My heart called for a Routan, but my budget leaned towards a Dodge. Mohnie found a used Dodge Caravan offered at Enterprise and was ready to go, but--geek that I am--I demanded more research. He claimed that I had driven a Grand Caravan and a Town and Country and couldn't I remember the experience? Well, no, frankly I couldn't. I'm 35 years old and this is the first time that I've ever gone car shopping. I've never intentionally thought about cars before. I notice wedding rings, highlights, manicures and landscaping but never cars. So, with great enthusiasm, I went to a dealership and drove a basic model 2008 Toyota Sienna, then a 2008 Grand Caravan. I'm sure that I would love driving around in a $40,000 tricked-out version, don't hate me minivan lovers, but as it was, it felt like I was driving a . . . well, a van.


PHASE TWO: The Space Wagon

Wondering what options were available for families who didn't want a minivan but wanted to seat six passengers if necessary, I went to Consumer Reports, Edmunds.com, and Kelly Blue Book for help. Best Family Cars. Best Crossovers. Best Minivan Alternatives. The lists were endless. I rejected a crossover SUV for many reasons, gas mileage, my established belief that if you wanted the space you should just get the minivan, rejecting the big car phenomenon, etc. After hours of research, I found it. The Mazda5.

"For buyers who need affordable, fuel-efficient family transportation that's easy to maneuver in traffic and a snap to park, the Mazda 5 is a strong choice." - Edmunds.com

Yes, that's me! I did a test drive at a dealership and loved it. I saw an internet ad for a one-year-old Mazda5 at a great price. I called. It was available, but I couldn't make it there until later in the day. But it was going to be mine! The salesman called me back twenty-minutes later and told me that the car was being sold. Drat. He called me back an hour later and said: Game on! The folks who wanted to buy had bad credit, so if I could get there early evening then it could be mine. It was meant to be! Then God laughed.

I picked Mohnie up from work and we began the drive to the dealership with the coveted Mazda5 about 30 minutes North, wait, we were driving in rush hour traffic, make that 45 minutes North, wait, it started raining, an hour north and counting. The wind started picking up once we were out of the city and Mohnie received a tornado alert on his phone! By the time we found the dealership, an hour and fifteen minutes after we began the drive, the wind and rain was so torrential, that we couldn't even see the car, let alone drive it. We threw in the towel, headed back down the highway, looking for a place for dinner and hoping to be home soon. It was a very, very scary drive. Apparently, the universe knows that I don't take to subtlety.


PHASE THREE: The Truck

Texas is a land of extremes, so I should have a car that can handle them! Four-wheel drive, raised tires, I want a car that I know can cut through a flooded underpass, be immune to 40 mph winds and attack hills slick with mud. Uh, there aren't any hills in Houston but I want to be able to scale a mountain anyway! I want a tank in which to transport my family and will give up some favorable gas mileage in order to do it.

What SUV am I interested in, you ask? Umm, I haven't gotten there yet. More research to do.

Bugs. Ugh.

I was on my way to the kitchen this morning to turn on the coffee maker, carrying Alexis, mentally making a list of what I had to do this morning, and counting the still unpacked boxes in our living room - 4, when there, straight in front of me, on the left side of the still unplugged Ionic Breeze, I saw it.

Big.
Oval.
Black.
And dead.

A cockroach. My heart sank as I saw it, though I was somewhat relieved it was in rigor mortis and not scurrying into some dark place. Shantih has been developing a panic reaction to spiders and ants, so I quickly shooed the girls into our bedroom before they saw it too and sent Mohnie in to clean up the evidence. All morning, though, every time I opened a drawer, cupboard or cabinet, I did so with caution.

This wasn't the first time since we've moved south that I've moved cautiously in anticipation of creepy crawlies. The fire ants are really treacherous down here. Shantih was bitten by one during our visit here in March. She will never kick a "pile of dirt" again. Actually, I really WISH that were true. Unfortunately, her persistence extends beyond wanting to play Dora, Snow Princess over and over again. Alexis was bitten at our local park the other day. I only realized it later that night. One got inside my shoe as well. Ouch. Now, I'm looking out for the hills wherever I go and getting tips from the locals on how to steer clear. Apparently, it's much worse after a rainstorm.

In any case, after making coffee and breakfast without any further appearances by Periplaneta americana Linnaeus, I systematically wiped every crumb off the counter and table; ran the disposal until it was absolutely clear; and vacuumed and vacuumed again. Shantih was excited to help at first but soon became exasperated by all the cleaning. I finally told her how I had seen a BIG bug on the carpet this morning and we needed to clean up really well. Food left on the counters might attract more bugs and that would not be good. She stared at me, pouted and despaired: Why did everyone block me from seeing the bug? I didn't get to see anything.

I can't win.

Forget McDonalds. It's all about Chick-fil-A

Pronounced: Chick Fillet. Wednesday morning, the girls and I went to Chick-fil-A for their weekly toddler time. My first reaction was: this is awesome! Then, I realized that I was definitely a mom if my definition of an awesome morning was time out at Chick-fil-A. Furthermore, I concluded that I was undeniably a child of the 80's by even using the word awesome. Finally, I accepted it all, because it really was TOTALLY AWESOME!!

At first glance, it's a regular fast food joint, schlepping chicken sandwiches instead of burgers. They have a drive through. Plastic signage and the employees wear silly looking uniforms. But it is a different world, at least on Wednesday mornings. They had a woman making balloon animals; there was a toddler play area, perfect for the little ones, clean with no big kids to step on them; the "hospitality" employee was handing out free ice cream coupons; they did a story-time with parachute in the playarea with all the kids. It was chaos, but it was fun. We stayed longer than expected, so ordered lunch as was their cunning plan all along. The food was freshly made and, best of all, you made your order, then they BROUGHT it to the table for you. Inside the kids meal in place of a junky plastic toy was a sticker book and every meal came with an adhesive plastic mat to attach to the table to put the kids meal on and a moist toilette. Mom heaven.

Best of all, all the parents there were so friendly. I had some great conversations ranging from relocation to part-time daycares to popular careers in Indian families.

We shall return maybe even this Saturday for their carnival with inflatables that they're hosting as a fundraiser for a local life skills program or on Monday for family night. I'm glad that they have grilled chicken salads . . .

Week Two: Finding a routine

Fortunately, our Sunday was less dramatic than Saturday with Shantih and Mohnie spending the morning ferrying broken down cardboard and misdirected boxes to our storage unit. Of course, at the storage unit, life became a bit more dramatic, not because of any storm-related damage, thank goodness, but because of the beautiful peacock who makes its home behind the storage facility and decided to parade in front of our unit for the day.

On Monday, Mohnie started week two and I took the girls to a splash park where, because of the high winds, we did no splashing. However, life is starting to feel routine. I ran into a mom who I had met before, which was great, and we made plans to get together again. In the afternoon, the girls and I went to the local playground--you're getting the gist of our days--where we found many, many anthills. Saturday's rain destroyed their nests, so they mounded up to build again. Alexis, poor thing, was bitten by a red ant on her legs, she didn't even cry. I only discovered the bite later when I was changing her. I'm pretty sure I know where it happened, because one got into my shoe and stung me between the toes. Shantih was playing blissfully on the monkey bars. After her encounter with a red ant on our previous trip, I didn't want to alarm her. We NEED to keep going to our little, local park, so shhhhhhhh. (The maintenance man assures me that they treat for red ants in all the common areas but the rain washes it away. It'll be taken care of he promised.)

Today, I drove a fair way to find a drop-in daycare, but I didn't leave the girls, because it just didn't look right. I didn't use Whirlwinds in University Village very often, but it was a great place and I'm missing it right now. I'd give my right arm for TOP food! I'm not used to having the girls FULL-TIME with no preschool, etc. I'm ready for camp season already. In the afternoon, we explored our apartment complex's pool. The large pool was still pretty cold, but the kiddie pool was just right for wading. It felt like being on vacation.

Shop Early In Houston

So, yesterday's lesson of things not always being what they seem in Houston--continued today. We started the day with a trip to the Houston Costco near the Gallaria Mall in downtown. (A trip, I'd like to add, that took less time than my drive from our apartment to the "local" library on Thursday.) The Costco was nice. It was a Costco. We spent lots of money. Bought hot dogs. Got gas. Costco.

It was lightly raining in the morning, but it was really coming down on the way home. Fortunately, we were back in the apartment by the time the thunder showers really started pouring down. I hadn't seen a storm of this ferocity in a long, long time. The gutters were flowing with white water; one of the young trees outside our apartment broke free from it's support ropes and was bending in the wind; and the water just kept coming. On the news, it said that there were tornado and flash flood warnings in our county.

Fortunately, we didn't get stuck like the poor soul in the car in the picture above, but friends said that Houston hadn't had rain like this since Hurricane Ike. Some of the areas around here were actually hit worse than during the Hurricane. At 6:00 pm, the sun came out, blue skies and kids riding bikes through big puddles. Welcome to Texas!

Check out more info about the storm below:

Houston Area Swamped by Storms, Flooding

THE EYE OF THE STORM

This morning began pleasantly enough--a gray day but warm with a breeze. S, A and I went to check out the little golfing green near us. S ran around scooping balls into holes and A busied herself rearranging flags and picking up golf balls right before her sister was about to send one down the green. After "golfing" we went to a little gym class, which was great for S since she desperately needed some run around time with some other kids. Chatting in the waiting room, I met a woman who grew up in White Plains, NY and a stay-at-home dad who loved living in North Carolina but moved here for his wife's job. The cost of living is so much less here, but inevitably the rat race exists. One woman was talking about her 4,000-square-foot home; I asked her about energy costs: $600-$700 a month on electricity in the summer. Ouch.

I'm starting to be intimidated by kindergarten expectations--no doubt that would have happened in Seattle as well. The parents were talking about getting their three-year-olds to do pre-reading, and how many kids are reading BEFORE they hit kindergarten. Texas emphasizes something called "sight words," which I guess is having kids be able to recognize a list of common words. I'd not heard of that before. I imagine that TEXAS is one of them. I wonder if cowgirl is too? Heifer? Steak? Hurricane?

Speaking of . . . we had a big downpour with thunder and lightening this afternoon. It certainly seemed like a storm to me with the wind blowing and pizza delivery places estimating a 2 hour wait time--no one wanted to go out. I didn't realize the full extent of the storm, though, until I saw the news this evening, which showed footage of downtown Houston with people ankle-deep in water crossing streets, highway off ramps being shut and--north of the city--trees and signs uprooted and crashed onto cars. I'm looking forward to having a bigger car, and getting some tips on how to drive in flash floods.

After dinner, I stopped by a local convenience store: Buckees. Now, from the name of the place and the fact that it has a gas station attached, I admit that I was expecting a place with beef jerky by the till, bud in the fridge and cans upon cans of chewing tobacco. Imagine my surprise, when I discovered a gourmet shop with homemade spreads, handcrafted cheese boards, blown glass ornaments, and a bakery with drive-through expresso window! There was jerky, of course, but it was gourmet: a display of turkey jerky, beef jerky, you name it, all in a beautiful glass case where you can point to the strip that you want--no wrapped in plastic slim jims here. I'll have to be cautious about bringing Shantih, since half-a-wall is devoted to jelly belly tubs with every flavor imaginable. I especially loved the large wine selection with affordable prices for good house brands. Box wines were available too, but there was so much more.

Just goes to show, not everything is as it seems in Texas.

END OF WEEK ONE IN TEXAS (4/15/09)

I'm really enjoying Texas so far. The weather is great. The people are friendly. My insurance rates have gone down by half! Grocery prices are a bit lower, especially for packaged goods, but dairy prices and organic is the same if not a little bit higher. Granted, there are some differences: pigs feet in the refrigerated and freezer cases and Bed Bath and Beyond sells a Texas-shaped waffle maker. There still is a lot to explore; I hear that there is a new farmer's market at the town center near us every Sunday.

We're staying in Pearland, which is a city with about 90,000 people. It resembles Lynnwood, though it's obviously a bit bigger. (Isn't everything in Texas? :)) We're also looking at the community of Sugarland, so I'm hoping to enroll Shantih in a camp there to get a better feel for the area.

We met two families today, so I will have playdates on the schedule soon I hope! Both part-time working moms--one is on a maternity leave with two-month-old twins. With a four year old son as well, she is a busy lady! The other mom I met at a local park, and she is a pharmacist with a 2 1/2 year old. Her daughter is right in the middle of Shantih and Alexis, but I'm sure that we can make something work.

I've found the Pearland Recycling Center, so I've started collecting my bottles, cans and newspapers, if nothing else. Nine years in Seattle has burned recycling into my brain!

For the most part, it doesn't feel THAT different. In many ways, suburbia is suburbia. The shops are the same: Bed, Bath and Beyond, Chili's, TGIF, Target, etc. People dress a little dressier, appropriate for warmer weather, but there isn't that much difference. Then, Monday night, I went to an orientation for a possible elementary school for Shantih and realized that I was in TEXAS. They had a slide show that showed their annual kindergarten rodeo; they have a real cowboy come in and talk with the kids; there was a texas flag in the gymnasium that had the oath next to it (I guess you pledge allegiance to the Texas flag,) and it goes on.

I'd thought about the fact that Shantih and Alexis would be Texans before we moved here, but it really sunk in on Monday night. My childhood memories of jumping in giant piles of vibrantly colored, Autumn leaves might be their memories of hot summer days at the water park. In many ways, the hot, humid summers of Boston have helped me look forward to this move, summer just doesn't feel right to me without some serious heat. Will that imprint on my kids and affect what they will look for in a home later in their lives?

For the moment, though, I'm looking for camps to enroll Shantih in this summer. We have a trial class at Little Gym on Friday. And Shantih is looking for friends. Alexis is looking for home. So, in a sense, we're all on the same page.

Day One in Texas (4/9/2009)

Notable observations:
• There is an interesting contrast between the green/brown tightly clipped grass and young trees and flowers surrounding manicured planned communities.
• We took a parallel road to the highway to get to the Pearland Town Center for dinner and passed a cow pasture.
• The weather is fabulous! Vitamin D is my new friend.
• I haven't seen a lot of big hair or belt buckles.
• The waffle iron in our hotel is in the shape of Texas.
• I had to write three checks because the leasing agent just couldn't get the idea that we were on a three-month-lease.
• Alexis keeps saying Go Home. Sniff.
• Our new apartment has wonderful tubs but makes our townhome feel large.
• The food is great! We went to a simple diner for dinner, but it was the best banana bread I've ever had.
• I like being called Ma'am.
• The Kroger supermarket five minutes from our apartment has a Seattle's Best . . . and takes our QFC card . . . and has a homemade Tortilleria next to the Sushi counter.
• Downtown Pearland reminds Mohnie of University Village.
•Our mail is coming! I ran a red light last week.
• We're going to go to an Easter Egg Hunt at Outdoor World on Saturday. It's just past the giant busts of the great presidents at the side of Route 288--Washington, Lincoln, Roosevelt . . . Bush.
• Shantih is hyper, hyper but enjoyed watching the car being driven off the truck.
• I don't know how to order at Sonic.
• Boxes await me in the morning.