Nothing Says Fun Like a Few Kajillion Deadly Man O Wars

I got to go to Galveston for a work conference last week with some coworker-friends. A couple of different drunks were kind enough to take some really good pictures of us. But my boss was with us. And I like my job. So I decided against posting them.

After the conference, The-Guy-Who-Knows-A-Song-About-A-Chicken drove in with my boy and my sweet pea. And it was wonderful and the weather was beautiful. And the beach was...well, it was a beach, which means it was paradise.

Except for the man-o-wars. Those things are deadly, apparently, and the beach was more or less carpeted with them. That kind of put a damper on the swimming and wading and stuff.We wandered around The Strand, but for some reason, I took most of the pictures in the alley.
I'm sure Galveston must have been breathtakingly beautiful some number of hurricanes ago. There's still some Ike recovery going on a year and a half after the most recent one though.
We heard music at the Old Quarter.The owner told my gal to reach her hand up as far as she could, then told her that's how high the water had been inside!

The amazing thing was that it was kind of hard to tell. The walls were covered with pictures of people who had played there, which he said had been either sent to him or had been restored.

All in all, except for the man-o-wars, me losing my favorite hoodie sweatshirt (It's black with a zipper & says KPFT. Have you seen it?), and my friend's son puking, it was a perfect couple of days. I even saw a motorcycle made of wicker! So what could be better than that, I ask you?!?!?

Everything is Coming Up Dried Out Contact Lenses

When you shack up with your man, everything is so romantic all the time that you even get to pee on rose petals:OKAY! So it's not romance ALL the time. For example, the stomach bug claimed another victim at our house this week. So cleaning up puke at one in the morning wasn't so romantic. And it wasn't all that romantic when I brought home lice from preschool. Or the germs from hand, foot, and mouth disease. Or impetigo for that matter.

But none of us actually succumbed to the hand, foot and mouth OR the impetigo. We just hung out with the germs. And then the rose that I cut from the back yard and put in a little vase on the bathroom counter died.

So then, in a fit of romance, The-Guy threw the petals into the toilet. There's a dried up contact lens in there too. So that's like pretty much all romance all the time here at La Maison Twipply Skwood. Mostly.

Here's something else unique about Camp Twipply Skwood - our district representative is an aging soul, R&B, and gospel singer in disguise:It's particularly handy when you want to lobby and be entertained at the exact same time. I'm just kidding! Because I don't even know how to lobby. But I am totally going to check into live concerts.

Hurricane season is here again as I understand it. And lucky thing too! After all, the blue tarps are starting to disappear and the roofs are slowly but surely being repaired.

This place doesn't look like it's ready for the next hurricane just yet:
This place looks like it needed help long before Ike plowed through:Here's my boy, enjoying his summer in between doctor and dentist visits:And here's what I get when I try and photograph younger gal:Only when she feels that she's having a bad hair day though.

I got a few good shots of older gal too. And she provided me with some lesser known facts about diabetes. For instance, if you see a total stranger's boobs vibrating, this could be a telltale sign of diabetes. But more on that when I find out which, if any, of her pictures she's okay with me posting.

Come to think of it, perhaps if I extended that same courtesy to younger gal, I wouldn't get a photo of the hand so much of time...

Voted Least Likely to Become an Alcoholic

I can imitate a binge drinker pretty well, but no matter how hard I try I don't think I can attain true alcoholism for this reason: I often forget to drink.

I'm all stressed out about one of life's greater or lesser hassles and I go straight to the garage for an axe. Because it's unladylike to gnaw on the type of chocolate that The-Guy buys and I can't figure out any other way to break some off:But then I remember this about anxiety and stress: Stimulant BAD. Depressant GOOD. My brother has even, on occasion, had to remind me: "Maybe you should have a drink."

So if I do become an alcoholic, I'll have to have somebody follow me around all the time reminding me to drink.

The sky was magnificent yesterday morning. My picture in no way does it justice, because as usual I was trying to snap it from the driver's seat of a moving vehicle:Seriously though there was a point where the freeway turned and the sky opened up and I just couldn't figure out why there wasn't car accident after car accident caused by drivers mesmerized by the sunrise.

There's still a lot of roofing left to do from the hurricane around here. That blue stuff is still tarp, yes indeed-y:STILL. You may or may not remember that the hurricane was way back in September.

I saw this sign at the grocery store the other day. I noticed that the section is called, "Healthy Meals":Now I'm no doctor (or a nurse or dietitian or a nutritionist) or anything, but a bunch of chemicals that I can't even pronounce, thrown together in a box doesn't even constitute a meal in my book, much less a healthy meal. Here's the ingredients list on one of those suckers:I realize it's illegible, but I'd be willing to bet most of that stuff isn't even food.

Here's another rose The-Guy grew for my scratch and sniff blog:Anyhow...that's about it from here for now. I'm getting google searches for chocolate covered matzoh. Seeing as two years ago I told one or more people that I'd post the recipe, I guess that's coming up next.

A Blue Christmas

The-Guy-Who-Knows-A-Song-About-A-Chicken has a hobby that's going to get us food. I have a hobby that's going to get us shot by some guy with a chicken in his yard.

See? The-Guy is making a vegetable garden. And he's making compost bins to recycle our garbage and feed the veggies:I, on the other hand, am driving around Houston taking photos of people's misery.

It just flat out amazes me that so many people still have roofs covered in blue tarp. Is tarp really sufficient to keep rain out for four and a half months? And if so, why the heck do we even bother with shingles?






It's actually not a bad look at the bank's drive through. The whole light-shining-through-the-blue-plastic is kind of nice actually, and you know for certain that no one's great aunt Martha's memory chest is getting soaked in the attic. It's probably not even bothering the tellers a bit:


To give credit where credit is due, those pictures which seem to be taken from a moving vehicle were taken by my gal, since I didn't feel like killing us off just so people could see the blue tarps of Houston.

I mean, I've risked life and limb for this blog before, but I figured what the heck, she was already in the back seat and didn't particularly feel like dying either.

Hope everyone is having a tarp-free and possibly not even blue Christmas (although as I understand it, other parts of the country are having their own weather related problems) and a happy Chanukah!

The Gulf of Mexico Called...She Wants Her Road Back

We took a drive out to Galveston and points west today. Lots of places are still in full survival mode. This is just West of Jamaica Beach:The photo doesn't really capture exactly how heart wrenching it is. Directly across the street is an entire tent city.

I imagined conversations between the Gulf of Mexico and Hurricane Ike discussing exactly how Ike would help the Gulf get her beach back from those pesky humans.

But we had this actual conversation on the road between Galveston and San Luis beach:

The-Guy-Who-Knows-A-Song-About-A-Chicken - "Did you see that sign?"

Me - "You mean the one that said, 'Road Closed'?"

The-Guy-Who-Knows-A-Song-About-A-Chicken - "Yes"'

Me - "It must mean some other road. There are cars coming from the opposite direction. See? Yeah. It's gotta be for some other road"

Uh huh. For some other road. Just because the sign was sitting there right by OUR road (the one that was in perfect condition just about this time last year) doesn't mean a THING. Nope.

So we come upon this first hole in the road and I'm thinking, "Oh yeah. I guess it IS our road that's closed. That's a hole in the road alright."
The holes in the road got bigger the farther we went: Until finally the road was washed out altogether and we were driving on sand: And then, finally, we had to take a detour: No joke - that detour sign points directly onto the beach. So yeah, we drove along the beach long enough to wonder if we'd be on the beach all the way to Surfside.

Luckily we flagged down an AT&T truck driving the opposite direction whose driver let us know the road was okay not too very far ahead. I'd like to say something clever about seeing an AT&T truck driving along the beach, but it was really just too surreal to even try.

Around Houston, recovery is plugging along. Houses are ever so slowly recovering their roofs.

People from out of town get lost a lot more often, but they just think the city's roads are not well marked. They don't realize right away that actually a good number of our signs blew away during Ike.

And, of course, we still have a good number of upside down silhouette people wandering around town:So that's how it's going in Ike-sville. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving!

But the Rich Are Enjoying the Mildew

It rained last week for the first time since the hurricane, prompting this headline in The Houston Chronicle:

"Rain Adds Urgency to Roof Repairs in Low-Income Areas"

Because people with mediocre or above incomes LOVE water all over their stuff!!!!! Yeah.

I understand that it's a whole 'nother level of desperation if you have water coming inside and you can't even replace your now grungy bath towels. But seriously, I think even relatively well-to-do Houstonions felt a little more urgent about their roofs when that water began pouring in again.

I just got water all over the carpet though. It didn't get all over my stuff, because I got the room without a ceiling all cleared out.

According to the Houston paper there are now 200 people still missing in and around Galveston (200 people having been found and cleared from the list) 23 of which are missing from Bolivar:

"Authorities say they continue to believe many displaced Galveston Islanders and others are on the list in error. Those authorities are openly worried, however, about missing Bolivar Peninsula residents."

The paper doesn't exactly say WHY it's more productive to worry about the 23 from Bolivar rather than all 200. Perhaps worrying about 23 people seems like a more manageable task? One hundred seventy seven less gray hairs?

In other hurricane news (because I'm borderline obsessed, so it seems...either that or because there just happen to be a lot of photo ops), our street signs are a little more accurate than they were pre-hurricane.

There used to be more signs on my road warning of short silhouette people toting silhouette briefcases:
Because those silhouette people can be quite alarming and it's best to know in advance if you're going to encounter any on the road. You hardly ever run into (over over) any of those guys though.

With all the repair that's been going on, street signs are pretty low on the list of priorities. So now some of those signs don't actually warn of what's ahead. They just say "ahead":
Which is really more accurate, 'cause who the heck really knows what's ahead around here anymore? (Or anywhere else for that matter?)

'Cause You Probably Spend More Money If Your Brains Leak Out

I'd like to think that everyone is sick of hearing about Ike. But the fact of the matter is, Houston seems more or less ignored in the news, so the six people reading this are probably the only ones inundated (pun intended) with information about Ike.

I couldn't even find anything in Newsweek at all except this ONE SENTENCE in the Conventional Wisdom Watch section: "Galveston (down arrow) Ike wipes it out. But at least this time most people got out of the way."

Did they???? That's odd because around 300 people are still missing, and almost 30 died (including those that died trying to survive the aftermath) just in Galveston. I can not EVEN imagine why someone would stay on the island with a FOUR YEAR OLD when experts were predicting "certain death". But, y'know, whatever...I guess that doesn't really constitute a large portion of the population. Who knows.

Meanwhile there are still plenty of Houstonians without power (And ceilings. AND phone service!!!!!!!!!!!!) So let's move on to subjects less likely to cause clinical depression, shall we?

Once upon a time I had to brave the Home Depot. There happened to be an employee stocking the shelves with drill bits. I'm not sure what exactly came over me, but since I was in fact looking for drill bits I got a wild hair and asked her for help.

First, she laughed at me for using my electric screwdriver as a drill. Hello! I live in an apartment. I'm not trying to do major construction here. I just hang a picture now and again!

Then she told me that sorry, no. There were no replacement drill bits, I would have to just buy a whole new electric screwdriver set. I thanked her, turned away and practically bumped into a display of the exact type of drill bit that I needed.

The moral of the story is this: giant warehouse department type stores are scary, scary places that suck out your brains if you stay in them too long.

Except for Target. There's still something to be said for Target. I'm not sure exactly WHAT though, because look at this sign on the door of the Sugar Land Target:See? Those people's brains have definitely leaked out all over the store.

It happens, by the way, that I am not among those who are without phone service. I got phone service back TODAY! A mere three weeks post-Ike! So, y'know...just a ceiling here any ole' time and I'll be all set.

Got Power?

In Houston, "Do you have power?" has totally and completely replaced the formerly common, "How have you been?"

Sometimes it's shortened to, "Do you have it?" or even, "Are you with or without?" To which I answered today, "I am with electricity. I am without a phone or ceiling."

And ALL of Houston is without safe driving conditions. Most traffic lights in my neighborhood are still out (9/25 - 12 days in, Stella Link at South Braeswood):And the piles of debris are taller than most cars, leaving little in the way of visibility at many intersections.

I remind my gal constantly that she absolutely CAN NOT jaywalk under these conditions and yet I still breath a sigh of relief each day upon learning that she has not been squished flat like a bug.

We are getting back on track though! I start back to work on Monday, the school having regained power yesterday. In the meantime, I amused myself by pondering my recent Google searches***:

"who is the lactating prostitute children of men"
I give up. Who?

"male tampon training"
I've been known to give tutorials to strangers on how to buy them. I didn't know males needed actual training though.

"bloody veins in teeth"
Let's hope this person took a peek around and left, shall we?

"what part of your brain vomiting"
I had no idea your brain could even vomit. I've honestly have thought, maybe not my ENTIRE life, but at least since fourth grade, that it is the digestive system that does all the vomiting.

"raising upstanding citizens"
I'm all about that! No really...

"men who love lactating women pictures"
Because it takes all kinds, after all.

"toilet licking pictures"
Sorry, I didn't have actual pictures, just empirical information on the impossibility of suicide by licking the toilet in the men's room at Lola's. Try the women's room. It's dirtier.

"you're taller and cuter than the average girl"
I'm not actually all that tall, but thanks anyway!

"why do lion tamers use a chair to tame lions?"
I've heard that the four equal length legs confuse them because they're used to seeing legs all running away with one or more lifted up as the run. *shrug shrug* Sounds not totally unreasonable.

"playmobil prostitutes"
'Cause who doesn't want to give children a toy that encourages reenacting the worlds oldest profession? If Playmobil does start up this line, maybe they'll mail them to the Bloggess to go with her angry cross dressing Legos.

Anyway, congrats to those who got electricity back yesterday and Thursday!!! In a city that is still getting near 90 degrees three days short of October, I'd much rather have air conditioning than a ceiling!!!!!!

***My mom...I mean my editor would like me to add an explanation here that these are gooogle searches by random strangers, the results of which landed the strangers on this website. Sitemeter collects the searches for me using some mysterious method that may or may not have to do with cookies, chocolate chip or otherwise.

Bloob, Dog Wrongly Accused, Me in a Tree, and other Non-Sequitors

So the gist of this post is basically that my school hasn't recovered electricity after hurricane Ike leaving me nothing better to do than to post inappropriate details about myself onto the internet.

Well...that and to start packing for my move, which may or may not be happening in the near future. I've been trying to tie some random pictures together, but it's a stretch.

It turns out that Andre is a wrongly accused dog. Luc is the psycho dog with good hair, not Andre. Gan, the owner, okayed my use of the label psycho for Luc in exchange for clearing Andre's good name. (Not really. What he actually said was that letting me call his dog psycho was the least he could do.)

And although I still don't have a picture of Luc-the-psycho-dog (nor Andre the sane and friendly dog, for that matter), I do have a picture of my bipolar cat Sugar, reigning supreme over his mattress-dom: He looks quite svelte because the picture hides his bloob, which is what the kids call that flappy fat under his belly.

Why are the mattresses perched against the wall in the middle of the living room instead of happily hanging out in the kids' room being used as bedding? Water damage from Ike.

They had to take out the bedroom ceiling: If you happened to see the the shingles all over the courtyard, that used to be our roof. And as I understand it, you sort of need one of those to keep the water out of the bedrooms. Those two actually make it look sort of fun to be ceiling-less, don't they? But three people and two cats in a now-one bedroom apartment that smells like mildew actually gets old a little faster than you might think, necessitating some outdoor activities. Like tree climbing. See? I said it was a stretch.

Nevertheless, here's me in a tree:That look on my face is either "What the heck was I thinking?!?! I'm FORTY now! I shouldn't even be playing badminton, much less climbing trees to fish out the birdies!"

Or it could have been, "It's taking him FOREVER to snap that picture! Why the heck didn't I teach my boy to use Razor's camera like AGES ago?!?! I'm going to be stuck in this tree until I break my neck falling out!"

Better yet, why didn't I ever teach my boy to climb trees so HE could have retrieved the birdie? I guess that's what comes out of growing up in the city. Especially one where they do stuff like this to hapless trees: I have no idea what they were doing. But I was under the impression that Ike had actually done a pretty fair job with the tree trimming. No need to start pulling them down with a tractor!