.....And I Will Go to Texas

I moved to Texas when I was 19 with a solemn agreement with my friend that we would give Texas and each other six months before we decided if it was going to work or not.  That was twenty years ago and I am still here.  I have periodically wanted to move back home (Buffalo, NY) AND we have considered other places with job opportunities, but Texas is home.  However, despite having lived in Texas half of my life and almost all of my adult life, things keep popping up to remind me I am not a native.

 

1.  Bluebonnets:  I do not have any pictures of my children frolicking among the bluebonnets.  Three kids, nary a one. I do think there is a picture of my stepdaughter as a baby with some plastic bluebonnets, but she not sitting in a field of them.  For those of you who don’t live here, the bluebonnet is our state flower. Our children learn the Legend of the Bluebonnet in school, we are forbidden to mow them, transplant them or kill them outright.  However, it is perfectly reasonable to trample down fields of them in order to get a picture of your kids among them.  I don’t get it.

 

Pretty, right?

2.  Sonic.  Sonic stresses me out.  Why do you they have those slanted spots to pull into and a drive thru?  Is one faster than the other?  Is eating in your car while parked more fun than cramming fries in your mouth and driving with one hand?  Do you tip the people who bring your food out?  What if you use the drive thru – do you still tip? Why?  Plus, and they may run me out of the state for saying this, the food kind of stinks.  To be fair, we don’t eat a lot of fast food, but when the kids say the ice cream tastes weird, that is saying a lot.  They are not really discerning when it comes to ice cream.

3.  BBQ.  Up north, anything you place on a grill to cook is BBQ.  This can be hamburgers, hotdogs, chicken, veggies – when it touches the grill, it all becomes BBQ.  In Texas, BBQ is beef.  Brisket slow-cooked in foil for hours requiring grown men to stand around it grunting and periodically poking it through the foil while debating the ingredients in their rub or sauce.

4.  Football.  Don’t get me wrong, I like football but no one in my family bleeds orange or crimson or, God help me, silver and blue.  My son picked the Philadelphia Eagles as his favorite team and Bill and I don’t care much one way or the other.  And we will root for anyone playing against the Dallas Cowboys.  (Whew! I am getting my Texas card revoked for that I am sure!)  This started during the Superbowls against the Bills back in the 90’s when my friend and I pretty much ran for our lives outside a Target for mistakenly wearing Bills gear out in public and enraging Cowboys fans.  If there was ever a chance of my being publicly stoned, that was definitely it!

5.  Mexican food.  Actually, not only do I get this, I THANK YOU Texas for Mexican food.  Tex-Mex, whatever.  Up north, the best Mexican food can be found at ChiChis.  ChiChis.  If you have never had to eat at one, stop and thank the Lord right now.  It is Mexican food made by people who pronounce the “j” in jalapeno.  Bland, blah and tomatoe-y.  Thank you, thank you for fajitas and queso and enchiladas and margaritas and tasty-yummy-happiness on almost every corner.  (Notice I left off tamales.  My first encounter with tamales, no one told me you take off the corn husk first.  That was a lot of chewing trying to get that first bite down, let me tell you.)

My throat hurts just looking at this.

Finally I have to say that you will never, ever hear me ask “Is it hot enough for you?”  Is it over 80?  Then yes, yes it is and I will assume the same for you.  I shudder a little when my kids say treadmeeeel instead of treadmill, but they tease me for the hard “A” sound that won’t leave my words. I did stop saying “you guys” after a few years here but I still cannot say “y’all” without giggling a little inside.    I will never blend in totally, but I stick out less than I used to.  Twenty years will do that.  Twenty years.  Ugh, that makes me feel old!!!