Two and a half years ago when we moved to Texas, we packed up our car, and a Penske truck with whatever we thought we’d need to survive until the big truck arrived and we hit the road. 

We drove for almost three days, taking our time because really, how fast can a fully loaded Penske truck go? The scenery along the way went quickly from the familiar, SoCal freeway, to the Palm Desert, to the Arizona desert, to the New Mexico desert (which is not quite as scenic as Arizona for those of you wondering). And then we crossed the state line into Texas.

Yes, that’s  a long time to spend in the car, so what better way to pass the time than sing! Admittedly, I’m not a good singer. Carry a tune? Not me! Not even in a paper bag! BUT, for some reason, I’m an amazing singer in the car!  No really, I am!

I like all kinds of music, but my go to station tends to be country, and as luck would have it,  the popular song at that time was Dierks Bentley’s Drunk on a Plane. Let me tell you that song  came on approximately every hour and a half. Ten hours a day of driving, divided by the same song every hour and a half – well, you do the math. That’s a whole lot of Drunk on a Plane. Sure, I could have changed the station – but I didn’t. Ever. Not even one time.

Now to add some fun to this, our then 12 year old granddaughter was with us. While her dad drove the Penske, she came along for the ride and was going to be staying with us for a few weeks once we arrived at our new house. Poor thing! She doesnt even like country music and here was was, bombarded with this song over and over! It wasn’t until she got back home in CA that she lost her mind and said she never wanted to hear that song again! So now, every time I hear that song, I think of her and all the arventures we had on our way to Texas.

Now that we have been here for almost three years and we are fully immersed in the Texas lifestyle, we wouldn’t even dream of missing the San Antonio Stock Show and Rodeo. It’s always fun, and in addition to the rodeo, you get a concert too! Once the rodeo is over, the crew comes out, sets up a stage, equipment, chairs, and within 10 minutes, instant concert stage!

Well, guess who last night’s performer was? Yes!!! Dierks  Bentley! We’re getting drunk on a plane! He did not disappoint, sang all his number one hits (I’d forgotten How many there are) and his last song was….you guessed it – Drunk on a Plane. As the entire crowd sang along, I immediately thought first of my granddaughter and had to giggle to myself. I even recorded a short video of it to send her!   But something else happened too. As most performers do, Dierks (yes, we are on a first name basis) made mention several times about Texas and Texans. “Hey, Texas, how y’all doing tonight?” You know what I mean, right? Well, I had this epiphany I’m a Texan! You see, not long after we moved here, we went to a Brad Paisley concert and I was feeling like I didn’t know where I belonged, I actually felt like an outsider hoping no one would notice how uncomfortable I felt. Would we get kicked out for being fake Texans?! I know, it was dumb.

I have no idea when this transition took place. Was it gradual? Did it happen one day and I just didnt notice? Was it when I bought my first pair of cowboy boots and became instantly addicted? Was it when I had to surrender my CA drivers license? Was it the first time I heard a prayer said at a public event? I’m not sure, but I know that I love living here. What’s not to love? (aside from scorpions)

I still experience new things, still frequently find myself saying, “you never see that or hear that in California”. Thankfully, it’s rare that I don’t say that without a smile on my face. And for some reason, my favorite seat now is 7A!!

High School. You either loved it, or you hated it. There wasn’t much in between. Personally, I had a pretty good time in high school. I had good friends, participated in some (not all) activities, and even though I could have graduated in January of my senior year, I opted to stay “for the fun of it”.

This past weekend I was JD’s date for his high school class reunion, and let me tell you that these folks love, love, loved their school and they loved each other!

We left on Thursday and flew from San Antonio to Memphis via DFW. I pretty much fly only Southwest Airlines because they fly non stop between San Antonio and LA. Add to that the fact that I quickly achieved A-List status, which I quickly became accustomed to, and flying isn’t terribly painful. But Because we were using some of JD’s mileage, we flew another airline that was not my beloved Southwest. $50 for each checked bag, $50 for a seat assignment (I kid you not), and no less than three gate changes , a delayed take off and I was admittedly getting a bit grouchy. As a matter of fact, by the time we boarded the plane, I may or may not have bumped into several elbows in the first class section accidentally on purpose! Seriously, why don’t they load the plane from the rear froward?

We finally arrived in Memphis- just in time for rush hour *sigh*. Not to worry, JD is taking a short cut! “No! No shortcut!” I was sure we’d end up lost, but thankfully we made it safely to our “B&B” just in time to head out for some BBQ.

There was an informal event on Friday night at a local pizza place. I had no idea what to expect but I assured JD I would be fine and encouraged him not to worry about me and go have fun getttig reacquainted with his friends. It wasn’t too long before I found myself sitting with some of the spouses of JD’s friends. They were the nicest guys that took me under their wings and I found myself having a great time exchanging stories and listening to them poke fun at each other. They’d been to plenty of these in the past and I think they only see each other at reunions, but I got the feeling they pick up right where they left off each time they meet.

Saturday morning was a tour of the school. I was a bit apprehensive about it, I was sure that too much time had passed and the school wouldn’t be anywhere what it once was and  I really didn’t want JD to be disappointed. Back in the day, it was grades 1 through 12 (can you imagine?!), but now it’s a middle school. Those of you that know me well, know that I am, and always have been a huge fan of Leave it to Beaver. I think that contributed to my love of old schools, and let me tell you this school did not disappoint!  From the brick exterior, to the hallways, and stairwells, I was sure Eddie Haskell was going to show up and compliment me in his oh so sincere way. “Good Morning Mrs. Dodd. My you sure look lovely in your jeans and sneakers.” Of course the classrooms were slightly different., but some things had not changed at all and it was really fun to listen to the comments about the classes and teachers.

The piece de resistance – the auditorium! It was everything I expected it to be, and then some. The stage, the seats the photos of every graduating class, the bruise I got from walking into what appeared to be original chairs! I don’t know if they were original, but they looked like they could have been. I was so glad I went, I really enjoyed seeing the school, and trying to picture JD walking the halls, socializing, etc. did I mention he was class president his senior year? Of course he was!

The reunion that night was fun. It was clear that JD had lots of friends in high school, everyone was so glad to see him and commented that he was always so nice in school. I can honestly say the girls loved him! 

Speaking of girls/women…what is the deal with southern women and their flawless skin? I noticed this when we went to New Orleans this summer also. It can be 100 degrees, with 90% humidity and these women are cool as cucumbers. Perfect makeup, porcelain skin, no shine, no glisten, no nothing! I, on the other hand am a hot sweaty mess before I’m even out the door. So unfair! 

Home on Sunday – ugh, yes by way of DFW. This time we actually boarded sort of on time and the engines started up, and then promptly stopped. This is a bad sign. A very bad sign. We sat on he plane for while until it was determined that the plane was not going to be ready to fly in the near future. “Ladies and gentlemen, please gather your belongings and go back into the terminal. We will be getting another plane for you. At this time we don’t know when it will depart or from what gate.” Ugh, are you kidding me? 

Eventually, we made it home, and in spite of the flight issues we had a really great time. Already looking forward to the next one!

So long. Adios. Auf Wiedersehen. Sayonara. Au revoir. See ya. You are now unemployed.

I’ve been working from home for almost two years now. Making monthly trips to CA to see the kids and to check in at work. It was ideal. It was just like going to work in the office, only instead of driving, I would just go upstairs. I’d start my day at 9:00, sometimes earlier depending on what was on my calendar. It gave me time in the morning to communicate with my European colleagues, or reach out to east coast suppliers, and be on line ready to greet my CA coworkers. I’d meet JD in the kitchen for lunch, and then we’d meet again in time for dinner. No traffic!

Sadly, the decision was made that all buyers (that’s me) needed to be on site. This was a tough pill to swallow. When I left to move to Texas, I was sad to leave, but it was on my own terms. It was my decision, and I knew that new adventures were ahead of me. 

This was a whole new game. As much as I tried not to take it personally, I did. I don’t handle rejection well, and this felt like, well, rejection. Who’s going to take over my role? What about all the things I’m working on?  Sorry BD, you’re getting off at the next station, but the rest of us are going to continue on. Oh, but first we want you to train your replacement. Ouch.

Let’s face it, we spend a good part of the day with our coworkers, and as a result, we turn into a family of sorts. There’s the manager, who we refer to as daddy (but not to his face!) as in, “Hey, when’s your daddy coming back?” Or, “Is your daddy in yet?”

 I worked for “the daddy” for over 15 years. I remember him running out the door as his wife was in labor. Twice. And now those babies are in high school. He’s seen me through plenty of life events. The loss of my father, the decline of my moms health, the births of new grand babies, and he was there when JD and I were married. He was more than just a boss to me, we had a mutual respect for each other, and he was a friend. He was supportive, encouraging, and helped me stretch into those areas way outside of my comfort zone. I could anticipate what he was going to ask for, I knew what information to provide, and in what format he would want to see it. Data. The man loved data! I owe a lot to him, I’m not sure what direction my work life would have gone had we never crossed paths. 

Then, there are the siblings (that’s the rest of us). “Where’s your brother?” Or, “Go ask your brother to do that.” And like siblings, of course there was plenty of pranks, and teasing, poking fun. I will miss them tremendously. I will miss the banter, the daily checking in, and the support that we all provided to each other

As I sat in the office my last week, due to space availability, or lack of, I sat a couple rows over from the rest of the group. Although I wasn’t right in the thick of things, I had a birds eye view of everything that was going on. The interaction, the joking, the tension filled moments. “That used to be me”, I thought. So this is what it’s going to be like after I’m gone. Hmmpf. In a few weeks it’ll be as if I was never there. On the bright side, I think my replacement was an excellent choice!

So now I find myself in this weird, bizarre, what do I do with myself now place. I didn’t know it was possible to feel every single emotion all at once! Talk about being out of one’s comfort zone! Scary, excited, unsure, exhilarated, sad, mad, joyous, relief, and even some guilt. I could go on and on. 

Is this it? Do I get off at this station? I really hadn’t planned to face this decision quite yet. So I’m not going to! For now I will enjoy spending time with JD, continue to bother my kids with frequent visits, attempt to play better golf, go riding with Buddy more frequently, learn to take better photos, spend some time in my mom cave, and finish painting the fence posts I started painting before we entered the rainy season.

To my Baxalta family, we’ve been through a change from Baxter to Baxalta, and now you face yet another with Shire (think how awesome St. Patrick’s Day is going to be!). We’ve suffered the loss of friends through transfers and layoffs, and still continued to be a part of this big machine that cares so much about its patients. At the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about. I will miss seeing you all, but am so thankful for the chance to know you. 

Until our paths again ~

Much like spiders, the only good scorpion is a dead scorpion. At least that’s my opinion.

Having lived my entire life in Southern California, I’ve seen (and killed) my share of spiders. Big ones, little ones, the kind with long legs, and even some short hairy ones. I’m also not one of those people that would scoop one up and put it outside. Nope, it needs to be dead. And if I saw one in the bedroom before going to bed, it needed to be exterminated or I would never be able to sleep. What if it crawled on me during the night, or worse yet – what if it fell from the ceiling on me?

When we moved to Texas, I really didn’t give a whole lot of thought to bugs. But now that I’ve been here for a while, I really think that there should be some nice person standing on the side of the road as you cross the state line that hands out a pamphlet entitled “Welcome to Texas, Watch Out For These Critters”. Don’t get me wrong, I still love living here, but it seems that there are still a whole lot of “firsts” to be experienced.

The first time I saw one of these guys was as I was unpacking. Not gonna lie – it freaked me out! As in instant tears. As I was melting down, I told JD that I couldn’t live with these things in the house. The exterminator was called immediately, and he is now my best friend. I also remember telling JD (in my teary voice) that the first time I got stung by one that I would cram a much stuff as I could into the back of my car and I would be headed straight back to California. As if there aren’t scorpions there!

I immediately developed this keen sense of knowing when there was anything out of order on the floor. I have gotten to the point where I walk in to a room, and in a matter of seconds, can scour the floor for any irregularities. I know every grain, and every knot on the wood floors and every spec on every tile. I am not even kidding.

During the warm weather months, JD is constantly telling me I shouldn’t be walking around barefoot, but I do. I should be able to walk around in my own house barefoot, right? I think yes! Last week, I defiantly walked (barefoot) into the laundry room to pull some clothes from the dryer. As usual, I opened the door and did my usual quick glance, and in my bare feet went. In hindsight, my only mistake (aside from being barefoot), was not opening the door very wide. Had I done that, I surely would have seen that pesky scorpion sitting right smack in the middle of the floor with its tail up and ready for action.

I pulled a shirt from the dryer and took a step back. Ow. Ouch. Yikes. Holy crap. What the… but I knew instantly what it was. Have you ever stubbed your toe and you see it and you know it’s going to hurt but the pain hasn’t made it’s way from your brain to your toe? Yeah, well that was how this was. I don’t use bad language, just not my style (that, and my mom would have never stood for it!) but I can tell you that every bad word I know, plus some that I made up on the spot ran through my head. I looked down, an there it was – just sitting there waiting to strike again.

“JD, I need your help right now!” He came running in and valiantly squashed it, stinger and all. I know he felt bad for me, he ran and got some anti sting spray all the while holding on to the ice cream bar he’d been eating! He eventually dumped it in the sink, but I know he’d just started on it. I hobbled into the bedroom looking for the frankincense oil that my sister had recently given me. JD had read that frankincense oil pretty much instantly relieves the pain of scorpion stings but we hadn’t actually purchased any. When my sisters were here visiting, we wandered into a store that had some and I had picked it up, but for some reason talked myself out of buying it and I put it down. Little did I know that she had purchased it and gave it to me when we got back to the house (am I glad she did!) It was still on my makeup table, still wrapped in the red (how appropriate) tissue from the store.

I can tell you that this sting went from take your breath away pain to no pain at all in a matter of seconds after applying. I highly recommend it – and hope I never have to use it again.

In the end. I now know that although painful, it wasn’t the worst pain I’ve ever felt. And much like getting over my fear of horses, I’m now over my fear of scorpions. Just kidding. No, not really. Still afraid, still walking around barefoot, and although I wouldn’t mind another road trip to California, my car is not currently packed!

Today was a beautiful day. Although the temperature was a bit on the cool side (56 degrees), the sun was out and the sky couldn’t have been any bluer. 

Since we had done all of our “chores” yesterday, our reward was to enjoy the day today. We’ve done a lot of exploring around here, and have visited all of the nearby towns, but we thought we’d head out for a drive. Yep, today we were Sunday Drivers!

We headed north, first on the Interstate, then to the highway, the to farm roads, then to the back roads. The scenery was beautiful, and along the way we took note of each historical place. Most dated back to the mid 1800’s, and I like to imagine what it must have been like back then. When the German settlers made their homes here, there was no heating, no air conditioning and making it even more difficult, there were Indians that were not interested in having these new settlers. (Please no political comments regarding immigration!)

We pulled into a little town, drove past the small, very old church, and an equally small, very old school. This little town so so cute and so picture perfect, I made the comment that it looked like a movie set. We reached the intersection which consisted of a stop sign ( no traffic signals here!) and to the right was an old gas station, and to the left was the country store. Well, who can pass on that? I was pretty sure Andy Taylor and Barney Fife would be inside having a piece of pecan pie. 

We went in, and sadly Andy and Barney were long gone. This place was pretty small. And it wasn’t so much a general store as it was a diner (although we did see a rack of sunglasses for sale). We walked in and felt like city slickers lost in the country. Only we were there on purpose! 

We walked up to the counter to place our orders and spoke with the cutest little old man who surely was the owner. He was cute as a bug, friendly, kind – like the kind of grandpa everyone would want to have! He proceeded to tell us all about his place, and that they were known for having the best hamburgers and cheeseburgers. We placed our orders and he told us that we would pay when we’re done, and if we tried to skip out he had a 9mm under the counter! I actually don’t think he was kidding.

The burgers were good, then he started bragging about the pies. So we were pretty much obligated to have a piece of pecan pie (we couldn’t hurt the man’s feelings after all!). We finished and paid, and chatted with him for a bit about the history of the area. As he talked, some of the local people meandered in, some with roots dating back to when the town was settled. 

We drove home – which really wasn’t very far, and I couldn’t help but think to myself…I thought we lived in the country, this must be the country in the country!

Country living at its finest. It was bound to happen. It was only a matter of time.

I was far away. Way far away. So deep in sleep, I couldn’t even tell you what I was dreaming about. Whatever it was, something in my dream smelled…really bad. What is that? And just like that, I was wide awake. and I had no idea what time it was, but it was still very dark outside.

I couldn’t quite figure out what the smell was. Did one of the dogs have an accident in the bedroom?  Is something burning? Why are the dogs  outside begging to come in instead of curled up on their beds? By this time I was sitting straight up in bed. My eyes were fuzzy, but my nose was working just fine.

About that time, JD came into the bedroom and I could tell something was not right. In fact, I knew something was terribly wrong.

As usual, Rodeo woke JD up at about 5:00 wanting to go outside. He said the minute he opened the door, the dogs were out and off into the tall grass tracking an animal. Since it was dark, he had a flashlight with him (no street lights, so it’s pretty dark outside), and then he saw it. Something black. And then…oh no, not the white stripes. Lucy! Rodeo! Come here!!!

Lucy stopped and came back pretty quick. I’m guessing one spray from the skunk was enough for her. But Rodeo….well, Rodeo is still a puppy and she has no common sense whatsoever! In fact, some kind of biological event takes place when her sense of smell kicks in, her hearing completely shuts down, and she will not come back when called. She chased that skunk probably until there was no stink left to spray, but eventually she came back. Poor JD didn’t want to go chase her down so he waited patiently (not!) for her.

He opened the door and ran them out into the backyard. Now, it’s maybe 30ish feet from the front door to the back, and in that short distance of them running from one door to the other, the entire house was filled with skunk smell.

And that is what woke me up.

Because I’m a mom, instantly my mind starts working. And, being that I am of the Brady bunch generation, I quickly remembered when the Brady’s dog “Tiger” was on the receiving end of  skunk and hey bathed him in tomato sauce. Or was it tomato juice? As I was lying in bed (JD did tell me to go back to sleep since I had to get up and work!) I found myself wondering how much tomato sauce I had on hand. I’ll bet I can come up with a couple of cans, but I know I don’t have any tomato juice. It was about this time that my common sense woke up. Surely that wont work, I’ll Google it and see what kind of online help there is.

The common recipe consisted of hydrogen peroxide, dish washing soap, and baking soda. Seems a bit harsh. Then I remembered seeing a bottle of “Skunk Off” the last time we were at the vet’s office. So at 7:30am, I was on the front porch waiting for the vet’s office to open, but before I left I lit every scented candle I could put my hands on and opened the windows (fortunately, it’s open window season here).

In the end, the “Skunk Off” worked great, the wind was blowing, the house aired out and the dogs are back to smelling like dogs much sooner than I anticipated.

When things go awry, I frequently tell my daughter, “one day this will be funny.” Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait too long. We are already laughing about it, but I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I was slightly (okay more than slightly) worried that JD was also going to smell like skunk for a while!