The License!
We're going back to Nac today! Bevin and I need to finish our marriage counseling with Tom (the minister who'll perform our ceremony) and to get our license. Our friends, Kelly and Ryan, were married in Nac and we liked the way their license looked. This is a "turn and burn" trip though, I have to be at work tomorrow (for four hours, HA!) so we'll be headed back to Dallas this afternoon. It's a pretty trip though! We love this time of year.
Near Death Experience
In honor of my friend Laine Odle's near death encounter with a hideous yellow spider the other day, I thought I'd tell of my own experience a little over a year ago.
I'd just spent eleven glorious days of vacation in Lewisville and the Dallas Metro area with my soon to be fiancé. In fact, we'd finished lunch at "Mother's Daughter's Cafe" over on Old Orchard and Main where I'd made the decision for proposing marriage to my Bevin come Christmas time. I had the pot roast, excellent fare, and a fried chocolate pie to go. My unwitting-bride-to-be had some kind of sandwich I think, but my mind was on far heavier things than her diet at the time. We said hello to Ms. Donna dining with her son and daughter-in-law, paid for the meal, and said our loving good-byes in the parking lot. The usual three hundred miles stood between me and San Antonio; I'd been gone a touch too long from work and the natives needed taming. Had to get back quick!
With the fried pie in a brown paper sack sitting in the passenger seat, all I needed was something to wash it down. A quick stop at the Chevron around the corner would fix me. It was a cool day, I left the Pontiac's windows cracked, no sense in wasting gas on A/C, right?
It's customary when traveling to get the right amount of food and drink for the road. Too little finds you irritable and twitchy, cursing every blue-hair and gas station you pass like a foul-mouthed Sooner hopped up on those 'little white pills'. This is unsafe. Too much, however, will bog you down. Worse yet, the urge to urinate will be strong at the most inopportune moment and you will pull over. This costs time. As a trucker, I learned the right mix for me in the travel food formula is a 20 oz. bottle of Dr. Pepper, 1 12 oz. bag of roasted almonds, 1 8 oz. bag of David's sunflower seeds, and a pack of Camel's- that last part is optional, I've been clear of the cigarettes for almost six months now. All of these coupled with the pie would get me home in fine fashion and hours to spare.
I jump out on I-35E south and weave through the lunch hour traffic. Anyone from a big city like Houston, San Antonio or the Dallas area knows that Rush Hour is a myth. There are in fact many rush hours throughout the day and I zoomed headlong down the throat of a big one! Again, the air was cool, the sun was shining, the Grand Prix purring, and I was mentally plotting the how's and when's of proposing to my girl. On Christmas Day? Too cliched. Where am I going to get the ring? Charles would know. What's my 'plan B'? This is how I thought my way through the construction, closed exits, and potholes.
Lancaster, TX is a poorer suburban town marking the border of South Dallas. I'd spent some time there at the Red Roof Inn (next to the Cracker Barrel) when the company I drove for, Frozen Food Express, was putting me through training. The place, the city, is a dump. Traffic had thinned some by this point in the trip and I'd begun to relax and reminisce on how different my life was since making a short-lived career of trucking. I went to adjust the sun visor and saw legs. Segmented legs of evil, all shiny and reddish-brown like the Devil's polished ass!
I've spoken often of my firm belief that God plans to keep me humble with this insane fear of spiders. It's silly to be as big and strong as I am and practically piss myself at the thought of a spider weighing two grams speeding its way up my left leg. I've also often joked that I was going to die one day while losing control of my car as one swung down out of the sun visor.
For one eternal moment I sat transfixed, staring at the hideous creature crawling around to the front of my sun visor and thought, This is It. The Grande finale. I actually predicted my own end. God does have a sense of humor and I'm the punch line of a joke! I don't recall the lane I was in, but I'd set the cruise control at 67 MPH just moments prior to the grim discovery. This is a magical setting, just slow enough not to bother cops but fast enough to get through city traffic at an even pace. And should you lose control of your vehicle at this speed? Punch line.
A calm swept over me. The steering wheel was in my left hand, my right hand free of drink or food. Stay in control man, feel for something. You've got to crush it before it makes its move- but make damn sure you get it on the first shot, boy! There'll be no second try here. Unaware of anything going on around me, I knew this would require more than a napkin. The idea of touching poisonous spider guts is almost as hateful as its big brother, the one involving my left leg. There in the passenger seat was the answer I sought: sun-warmed fried chocolate pie in a brown paper bag.
In a motion too fast for words, I crushed the menace and sent its body, those sickly legs, bag and all, to the passenger side floorboard. I watched for movement. Nothing. Then came breath and focus. I was supposed to be driving a car, in traffic no less! At some point during the fray my brakes were tapped because I was now doing 40 MPH on a major Interstate highway, thankfully in the slow lane. People honked their horns, but I couldn't care. Heart pounding, head throbbing, I fumbled for the phone. Bevin couldn't hear me in this state, no that'd ruin all my plans for wedded bliss. Nancy! Surrogate mother, wonderful boss! She'd make fun of me, rightly so, but she'd be safe to tell what had just transpired in all my tizzied glory.
It was Nancy who pointed out the answer to my biggest question- how did that thing get into my car in the first place?! She asked if I'd left the windows open over night. Nope, been burned too many times by rain. What about lunch time? No, but I left them cracked... when I ran... into the gas-station... Well, there you go dummy.
'Dummy' indeed! I made the trip back home in relative peace, not even stopping to throw the bag of mashed pie and spider guts away. Bevin was eventually called, long after I'd calmed down. I don't remember her response exactly, the nerves were still slightly shot, but the story had little effect on her saying 'yes' when I proposed last December. We've made a fair deal since then: she'll kill the spiders, I'll handle the crickets. She's terrified of crickets, I know them as bait. I just hope she's driving the next time this kind of thing happens; deal or no deal, twice in a lifetime is too much.
I'd just spent eleven glorious days of vacation in Lewisville and the Dallas Metro area with my soon to be fiancé. In fact, we'd finished lunch at "Mother's Daughter's Cafe" over on Old Orchard and Main where I'd made the decision for proposing marriage to my Bevin come Christmas time. I had the pot roast, excellent fare, and a fried chocolate pie to go. My unwitting-bride-to-be had some kind of sandwich I think, but my mind was on far heavier things than her diet at the time. We said hello to Ms. Donna dining with her son and daughter-in-law, paid for the meal, and said our loving good-byes in the parking lot. The usual three hundred miles stood between me and San Antonio; I'd been gone a touch too long from work and the natives needed taming. Had to get back quick!
With the fried pie in a brown paper sack sitting in the passenger seat, all I needed was something to wash it down. A quick stop at the Chevron around the corner would fix me. It was a cool day, I left the Pontiac's windows cracked, no sense in wasting gas on A/C, right?
It's customary when traveling to get the right amount of food and drink for the road. Too little finds you irritable and twitchy, cursing every blue-hair and gas station you pass like a foul-mouthed Sooner hopped up on those 'little white pills'. This is unsafe. Too much, however, will bog you down. Worse yet, the urge to urinate will be strong at the most inopportune moment and you will pull over. This costs time. As a trucker, I learned the right mix for me in the travel food formula is a 20 oz. bottle of Dr. Pepper, 1 12 oz. bag of roasted almonds, 1 8 oz. bag of David's sunflower seeds, and a pack of Camel's- that last part is optional, I've been clear of the cigarettes for almost six months now. All of these coupled with the pie would get me home in fine fashion and hours to spare.
I jump out on I-35E south and weave through the lunch hour traffic. Anyone from a big city like Houston, San Antonio or the Dallas area knows that Rush Hour is a myth. There are in fact many rush hours throughout the day and I zoomed headlong down the throat of a big one! Again, the air was cool, the sun was shining, the Grand Prix purring, and I was mentally plotting the how's and when's of proposing to my girl. On Christmas Day? Too cliched. Where am I going to get the ring? Charles would know. What's my 'plan B'? This is how I thought my way through the construction, closed exits, and potholes.
Lancaster, TX is a poorer suburban town marking the border of South Dallas. I'd spent some time there at the Red Roof Inn (next to the Cracker Barrel) when the company I drove for, Frozen Food Express, was putting me through training. The place, the city, is a dump. Traffic had thinned some by this point in the trip and I'd begun to relax and reminisce on how different my life was since making a short-lived career of trucking. I went to adjust the sun visor and saw legs. Segmented legs of evil, all shiny and reddish-brown like the Devil's polished ass!
I've spoken often of my firm belief that God plans to keep me humble with this insane fear of spiders. It's silly to be as big and strong as I am and practically piss myself at the thought of a spider weighing two grams speeding its way up my left leg. I've also often joked that I was going to die one day while losing control of my car as one swung down out of the sun visor.
For one eternal moment I sat transfixed, staring at the hideous creature crawling around to the front of my sun visor and thought, This is It. The Grande finale. I actually predicted my own end. God does have a sense of humor and I'm the punch line of a joke! I don't recall the lane I was in, but I'd set the cruise control at 67 MPH just moments prior to the grim discovery. This is a magical setting, just slow enough not to bother cops but fast enough to get through city traffic at an even pace. And should you lose control of your vehicle at this speed? Punch line.
A calm swept over me. The steering wheel was in my left hand, my right hand free of drink or food. Stay in control man, feel for something. You've got to crush it before it makes its move- but make damn sure you get it on the first shot, boy! There'll be no second try here. Unaware of anything going on around me, I knew this would require more than a napkin. The idea of touching poisonous spider guts is almost as hateful as its big brother, the one involving my left leg. There in the passenger seat was the answer I sought: sun-warmed fried chocolate pie in a brown paper bag.
In a motion too fast for words, I crushed the menace and sent its body, those sickly legs, bag and all, to the passenger side floorboard. I watched for movement. Nothing. Then came breath and focus. I was supposed to be driving a car, in traffic no less! At some point during the fray my brakes were tapped because I was now doing 40 MPH on a major Interstate highway, thankfully in the slow lane. People honked their horns, but I couldn't care. Heart pounding, head throbbing, I fumbled for the phone. Bevin couldn't hear me in this state, no that'd ruin all my plans for wedded bliss. Nancy! Surrogate mother, wonderful boss! She'd make fun of me, rightly so, but she'd be safe to tell what had just transpired in all my tizzied glory.
It was Nancy who pointed out the answer to my biggest question- how did that thing get into my car in the first place?! She asked if I'd left the windows open over night. Nope, been burned too many times by rain. What about lunch time? No, but I left them cracked... when I ran... into the gas-station... Well, there you go dummy.
'Dummy' indeed! I made the trip back home in relative peace, not even stopping to throw the bag of mashed pie and spider guts away. Bevin was eventually called, long after I'd calmed down. I don't remember her response exactly, the nerves were still slightly shot, but the story had little effect on her saying 'yes' when I proposed last December. We've made a fair deal since then: she'll kill the spiders, I'll handle the crickets. She's terrified of crickets, I know them as bait. I just hope she's driving the next time this kind of thing happens; deal or no deal, twice in a lifetime is too much.
Mattito's in Frisco and the Art Show...
So the other night, Bevin and I decided to hit the town and go to an art show in Frisco. A friend of hers from work knows one of the artists in the show (Jeb Matulich, you can search for his blog, Junky Trinkets). He does fantastic work! It was a pleasant change of pace from our usual evenings as of late. The Frisco City Hall Atrium is an impressive structure, newly built with all the ammenities. The artwork is on all five floors and will be on display for the better part of a year. If you're out this way anytime soon and want to do something with a touch of class, check out the show. You won't be disappointed. And yes, I mangaged to go through the whole display without touching anything or knocking it off the wall... mostly. I got a little close to a few pieces while admiring the brush strokes. Bevin kept me in line though!
And now for dinner...
Although the finger foods at the show were wonderful, it just wasn't enough for Dan! We had plans to eat at Mattito's there in the square. I've always heard about it, and thought we'd give the place a try. 2 Margarita's (one with salt, one without), cheese and beef enchilada dinner, seafood chile relleno with raisins and pecans, and many chips and salsa later....well, you get the picture. It was good....very good.... Dan was impressed with their version of a chile relleno and how they put the raisins on the top. The only difficult thing to manage at the end of the night was the high sticker shock on the margaritas. 6.95 a piece for each house margarita! I know the both of us were shocked to see that. Next time we'll go during happy hour if we want to drink.
Mid-way through the battle...but Dan will not be defeated by this "quaint" sized meal. Notice the raisins! Yum!
When we left for the evening, we could imagine Ruby was very anxious to see us and hurried home. I can speak for Dan when I say this...a night of culture can do you good. I feel fancy!
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