First off, big love to the big bro, the sis-in-law, and nieces2. Drs. Shamus and Elisabeth C., along with the super cuteness that is Skylar and Arianna are settling in well in far-off Guam. But its good having a bro on the other side of the globe. Being a day ahead, he always calls with the day’s lotto numbers. We plan on making a killing. I will be seeing them again come Thanksgiving, as I travel west to see little bro Lt. Jeff R. of Honolulu, HI, formerly of Annapolis, MD, and originally hailing from New London, CT, get married. Its going to be a gala affair and, thanks to Dr. Jerry W. of Los Angeles, CA, and his darling family, the W. of Los Angeles and Riverside, CA, I will be attending the USC-Cal game on said weekend. Anyone of the West-Side contigent interested in going out for a beer or breakfast at the Pantry is officially invited to give me a shout-out.
Special thanks to the love that is Clayt and Kim and Atticus L. of Erie, PA. No thanks to the introduction to WarCraft, which Clayt seems intent on being my social and academic downfall. At least I know I have an attic to move to should I fall on my face here following 9-hour sessions of “running around”. But their place is beautiful and its so much fun to see friends who are transforming into world-class parents and neighbors. To think 5 years ago that Clayt had landscaping talent while we drank gin and tonics would have been unthinkable. But there you go. He even has a gorgeous koi pond. And compliments of compliments, everything about them, their home, their neighborhood, and their goof of a big black dog reminded me of where I grew up. It was truly special and I can’t wait to see them again.
Big shout-out to the St. Croix Ex-Pats living in Northern California. You knows who's you is. Come to Los Angeles in November!
The How You Know You’re In a Texas Summer List: You know it’s hot when your lip balm melts down to a liquid and pours out as you open the tin. As far as I can recall, that never happened in St. Croix, Los Angeles, or any other place I visited. Even Hell, Michigan.
You know it’s hot when you’re shopping for indoor soccer shoes because the intramural sports won’t take the liability for having outdoor games until the winter.
You know it’s hot when, while shopping for said shoes, some Texas teenager is arguing with his dad over his desire to have a pair of white soccer boots because, “the field is like 115 and black cleats would get even hotter.” I’m still trying to decide if he has a valid point or is just a lemming like every other teenager who's trying to be fashionable. Of course, as any real soccer player would agree, your boots gotta be dark. White is tres' ges.
You know it’s hot when you go and buy a windshield reflector and it only lower the inside car temp to 130°.
You know it’s hot when you justify jogging at 7:30pm because it’s cooled down to 95°.
Final Thoughts on Texans: Not to sound out-of-place and foreign to this lifestyle, but I’m always put off when a sports apparel store has nearly 25% of floor space devoted to hunting and hunting accessories. And outside, they’re having a big sale on deer hunting platforms and baiters. Maybe that’s where I can find my Skippy.
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