While Teegan was settling into life in Aggieland, I was settling into life as a forty-five-year-old college student back on my own campus. I had been excited about going back to school for months, but I quickly learned that being excited and being prepared were two very different things. Between saying goodbye to Teegan, dealing with work, figuring out how the hell to be an online student, fighting with technology, and surviving the Texas heat, my first week back was anything but smooth. In fact, it was one hell of a way to start.

Saturday morning Yvette and I woke up a little late. Aggieland was hotter than hell, and Teegan had things to do, so we were not going to meet up with him until around one o’clock for some lunch and farewells. I know the prospect of leaving him was tearing at Yvette, and I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it myself. I have been on the other end of this, like I’ve said.

We made a trip to the grocery store before meeting up with him. It felt right to supply him with some good snacks for his room. I mean, he wasn’t always going to want to eat dorm food, was he?

He and his roommate met us downstairs to help with carrying groceries up to the room. I wasn’t going to haul another case of water up four flights of stairs before hitting the road for five hours. I knew my back was already tweaking. Heck, I watched these young lads wrestle getting that damn case up the stairs, so I knew it wasn’t the easiest thing to do. I wonder how quickly Teegan is going to go through his water? These stairs might make him a little more conservative on his consumption.

Fish Daddy’s was the place Teegan wanted to check out, and we basically saved the best for last. I was immediately impressed with the atmosphere, and once I saw fried green tomatoes on the menu, I was sold. I had always wanted to try them, and they did not disappoint me. Everything we ordered was superb.

Mostly, the lunch was just an excuse to visit. We talked about what he did last night. We talked about what he was planning on doing that night. We talked about his upcoming classes. Mostly, we just talked. It was our unsaid way of prolonging leaving town and saying goodbye, but eventually we had to hit the road.

Dropping him off was hard. Of course it was. I’ve never been good with goodbyes anyway. We were all a mess on that side of the road by his dorm. Tears in our eyes. When he walked away, he made one final glance over his shoulder at us that I will never forget. God, I was going to miss him.

The drive was what could be expected. Long. I made it a point to not make a single stop other than getting gas on the way out. No pee breaks. I wanted to get home before dark. Somehow, we managed just that. Yvette was impressed. She asked if I was alright. I said that I wasn’t.

She went to pick up Alaya from her dad’s house, and I ordered a pizza. It was good having the little girl at home filling the empty space. That night, we all slept well.

Sunday was a quiet day. I did very little around the house. I picked up the dogs from my mother’s, who were very happy to go home and relax. For my senior pups, being with three other dogs for four days was enough. Lola came and picked up the little girl, and it was once again quiet. This will take a while.

It wasn’t really the first day of class—that was Monday—but I was finally able to view my course syllabus! That meant I started class a day early! I went ahead and dove headfirst into the course and completed two assignments ahead of schedule. I was really getting excited about the prospect of taking a college course once again, nearly twenty years after graduation. Already, I was happy with my decision and the gentle persuasion of others to re-enroll.

I made a mental list of the things I needed to do for the first day of class—what I needed to buy—and I went to bed.

Early Monday, I went about my usual morning routines and left the house early to go check out a laptop from IT to use during the semester. I had to check it out in 28-day intervals. Whatever. The girl quickly signed one out to me, with zero explanation. I asked if there was anything I needed to know, and she said no. That was kind of a red flag.

My God, do things on my commute to work change when the students are back. Gone was the simple, stress-free drive, replaced by chaos and frustration. These people make my ass twitch. Nerve-racking sonsofbitches. I was also almost hit twice in a matter of five minutes. For fuck’s sake.

Dear Lord, I was busy on Monday. Busy to the point of exhaustion. The heat didn’t help at all. Honestly, I had not completely recovered from the Aggieland move-in. It was also going to take me a little while to once again get used to the influx of students back on the campus. It goes from being such a quiet place to a very alive place. You must make some adjustments to the routines that you take on over the summer months.

Not only was it busy, but my insulin pump’s controller was on the brink. The screen was flickering and, at times, failed altogether. I would have to bang the damn thing on a surface to get it to light up. Yeah, this was a problem I needed to rectify as soon as possible. Last thing I wanted was to be up shit’s creek without a paddle.

After work, Yvette and I went over to Noah and Nadia’s to visit with baby Niles. He is such a sweet, happy boy, always with the big smile. I hope that never changes. Since I do not see him as much as Alaya, it always hits me how quickly they grow. He is getting to be a big boy.

That night, I tried to log onto my loaned computer and wasn’t able to because the damn domain wasn’t available. What the fuck did that mean? Yvette called Lola, who had loaned a computer before, only to be told that they should have had me log in while there during checkout. Damnit, I asked if there was anything I needed to know, and clearly, there was. It would have been nice had they told me that.

Tuesday was more of the same busy bullshit. I still had catching up from Monday, but first things first, I needed to contact my insulin pump’s customer service. I have worked with them twice in the past and always found them to be outstanding and helpful. I logged into a chat with a representative and explained my problems. It was diagnosed, and we began the process of getting me a new control device. It was to be expedited. I just had to rack my brain and remember how to set it up when it finally arrived.

I also brought the laptop to work with me and had no trouble logging on. Okay, cool. I guess that was all I needed to do. I went through the setup process, and everything was peachy. Until the battery died. Okay, these things happen. Maybe they somehow gave me one that wasn’t charged fully. I took it home at lunch and placed it on the charger to tinker with later.

Back at work, I was in the Physics & Geosciences Department visiting with my friend Jody when my professor walked in, allowing an introduction from Jody. This was a nice coincidence. Apparently, she took note that I was the first one to complete the first assignment. I said that wasn’t my intention, because it was not. Anyway, Jody helped break the ice and saved me the uncomfortable moment I would have had by just showing up at the professor’s office. The thought of that felt awkward, even at the age of forty-five.

That night, I tried the damn computer again to no avail. WTF!!  I had the same message about the domain.  I decided to put in a service request with the IT department as soon as morning arrived.

After doing so Wednesday morning, I noticed something else about the computer. It was only holding a charge for about thirty minutes before needing to be plugged back in. Okay, that was a problem.

I went back to the library and service desk to have the computer replaced. While there, I also discovered that when I checked out the first computer, basic protocol was skipped. They never had me set up the computer. They didn’t have me fill out any paperwork. They also loaned me a 28-day computer but put it in the system as a four-hour loan, so I was already accruing late fees for a computer I had not even really been able to use. The guy had to get his boss to override the system just so I could check out another computer. To boot, I could only check out a seven-day computer—all the 28-day ones were spoken for.

Bullshit.

So finally, Wednesday, I had a computer.

The rest of the day was busy, and I had plans to do some class work once off work. That was going to have to become a routine.. After work, I just want to cook and chill. The meal I had planned Wednesday wasn’t exactly a quick meal, so learning to make something easy on my study nights was a must.

Off work and at home, I was able to get onto the computer, but unfortunately unable to access our system due to our security system. I called IT HELP again, and all the senior agents were home for the evening. It was after five o’clock. I opened a ticket stating that I needed the issue resolved, drank a quick espresso shot, and went back to the campus library to read and take notes. I lost time and was there for two hours. Shit, I still had to make dinner.

I had to work this out and make a routine. I figured I’d make Sunday and Wednesday my big study days, when I spent time at the library completing assignments and taking quizzes. The rest of the week I would stick to reading the text and taking notes.  Hopefully, the technology would eventually work with me.

Thursday morning on the way to work, hot air balloons were taking off from the band practice field, which is two blocks from my house! It was an unexpected delight seeing that on the way to work. I watched them lift from my spot across campus, while Yvette had front-row seats—it was her parking lot they were basically taking off from.

I think that made everyone’s morning. Something about fucking hot air balloons brings a childlike joy in everyone.

Once I was in the office, I began to e-mail IT when they called. We were going to work on trying a fix during my lunch hour while I was remote off campus. I went about my morning catching up on my expenses and working on bullshit. I saw a student getting escorted out of the dorms in handcuffs by two police officers. I shot the shit with people. It was the slowest day thus far.

At lunch, it was make or break. Did IT have their shit figured out? Turns out that they did. I was able to move forward beyond all the security red tape. This was going to make my life so much easier, and hopefully I do not encounter any more issues for a little while. Notice I said little while? I’m being optimistic. I’m not fucking stupid.

Since this was the first week back to school, the ice cream float social was back in business. Had I really been waiting since March for my Orange Fanta and vanilla ice cream float? I guess so. Unfortunately, I found out after enjoying a little that my current pump finally shit the bed. I had no way of giving myself any insulin. Fucking typical. Oh well, at least float season was back in business.

That afternoon, lo and behold, something was happening in the sky. My gosh, were those rain clouds? Could those be cumulonimbus? Holy shit! Was that thunder? Whatever it was, I was happy to see it, and boy, did it surprise. One second, I was getting sprinkled on in the golf cart; next, I was seeking shelter inside a damn building.  The wind was crazy and the tree limbs sere being tested for integrity. I was forced to ride out a very crazy storm.

As five o’clock grew closer, I realized I was not going to be able to wait this one out. I put on my big-boy britches and jumped back on the cart. I got drenched. There was no way around it. Even if it had not still been raining, navigating the flooded roadways would have still soaked my pathetic ass.

I will say that it was a little adventure. A very unexpected adventure.

That afternoon was the first Ram Jam, kicking off the first football game. Yes, it was also Ram Jam season. The time of free food, beer, apparel, and fun. Of course, it’s on a day that an unexpected strong storm hits. Typical.

Yvette was off an hour early, so while I was getting soaking wet, she was enjoying a drink and some ribs, dry and inside. Already wet, I said fuck it and met her after work for the festivities. I was amazed by how many people were still out partying in the rain.

I made my way inside and found my people. Next, I found the ribs. The glorious, delicious ribs!!!! The only reason I even met her was for those ribs. The ribs that I only get to experience during this time of year at the Ram Jam. I don’t know what they do to them, but Jesus, they are a treat. Made it worth getting a little damper than I already was.

That, and the four free beers.

After that, we went home, I showered, and spent some time trying to set up my new insulin pump control device, which had arrived sometime during the day. That is always fun. I think it was my third time doing it? Pretty sure. Always a chore trying to remember the correct settings. I made myself some pretty good instructions, but even that isn’t 100% because of the time I have between pump setups.

I was sick and tired of the week come Friday. That morning, I had to go pick up a bunch of bullshit for that one lazy-ass employee whom I’ve mentioned in blogs past. Of course I did. I was about fed up with their horseshit and was immediately placed in a sour mood having had to deal with them.

That afternoon, I tried to do a school project but was only once again hindered by technology. This time, it was my own shortcomings. I can’t use laptop touchpads as a pointer. I made a simple task difficult with my handicap. I had to get an actual mouse if this online course was going to work.

I was frustrated the rest of the day and just happy it was fucking Friday.

So my first week was a bumpy one. I was excited to be back in school but wished I knew what the hell I was doing as an online student. I did not feel prepared, but a lot of that was due to issues beyond my control. I tried to get a head start but kept encountering roadblocks.

The best thing I heard all week was that Teegan seemed to have a much smoother week than I did. I was very happy to hear it. This was something new for both of us, and he needs it to be a squeaky-clean machine. I can deal with discouragement; I don’t want him to feel that on his first week. One thing was certain: it was a long damn week for both of us, and I’m glad we survived.

Happy Happy Friday!!!

Jalapeño.

Chicken Parmesan an Italian green beans.

Garlic butter steak bits with mashed potato’s and green beans.

Ground beef/rice stuffed yellow bell pepper w/ refried beans.

Whiskey glazed pork belly w/ Broccolini and cilantro lime rice.

Steak w/ asparagus & roasted yellow potato’s.

This was it. The final week before Teegan’s move-in. Before the adventures in Aggieland begin. We had four days left with him before the first pages in his next chapter begin to unfold. How did we already reach this point. What happened to all the time we had left during the summer. As they say, it just slipped away like sand through our fingers.

So let’s begin…

Saturday I sure didn’t rest like I probably should have. Oh well.

I started off, per usual, making breakfast. I was in the mood for some huevos con chorizo a la mexicana tacos. Cooked the chorizo, chopped some onion, jalapeño, tomatoes and cilantro, and threw it all together with the scrambled eggs. Sprinkle a little cheese on the warm tortilla and load it with the egg mix. Delicious.

The yard was waiting for me. Yes, I needed to move more dirt, but I wanted to knock out another task that had been needing to be done for years. I think I might have come up with a partial solution to my backyard flooding issue. I was going to make a small wall along the front side of my house to divert all the runoff water from my neighbor’s yard back into their yard and, hopefully, out of my backyard.

I had equipped myself with some cinder blocks and dug out a trench to lay them. Once they were partially buried, I moved some dirt to fill them in and support one side. I figured the neighbors might cry when they see it, but do you think I give a fuck? They moved, and besides, what can they say? The water is coming from their yard, and I am simply trying to keep it in their yard and out of mine.

After that, I was back to digging and moving dirt. I worked too long and made myself sick. I even got nauseous. I need to learn when to quit.

That night, my mom took Teegan, Yvette and myself out to dinner for Teegan’s last night on the town before moving to Aggieland. He chose a place called Cielo, a Mexican joint that we used to go to with my mother all the time. Dinner was really fun, and we all had a great time visiting. About two hours of visiting. He and my mom have a very close relationship, and I know they are going to miss each other. I’m very thankful for that.

Have I said how badly I’m going to miss Teegan? As the days count down, my heart gets heavier and heavier. At the end of the day, only three remain before we hit the road to move- in day.

Sunday morning I awoke before everyone and enjoyed my coffee on the patio. As I watered the grass, I took pride in the amount of progress I made over the summer by simply using seed to make a yard. What would have cost me mucho pesos in sod cost me $30 for a bag of seed. I really am proud to see how much I’ve accomplished.

After coffee and reflection, I made breakfast. Avocado toast with an egg salad. I fired up the grill and cooked an entire package of bacon. I figured everyone else might want some bacon when they finally woke up. It was a good breakfast that provided me with the fuel that I needed for my next task.

It was time to get busy and get after the yard again. At this point, I really just wanted it done. I was tired of shoveling and wheelbarrowing dirt. I knew when I started this project the weekend before that it would take me some time to accomplish. I had really been putting it off for years, which only made matters worse for me in my present predicament.

Once the heat began baking me and my mind started to slip, it was time to give up and clean up. It was an important morning. At 11:30, we were taking Alaya to go see Paw Patrol: The Dino Movie. Was I excited about the movie? Not at all. Was I excited to see Alaya excited about the movie? Absolutely!

Once in the theater, she was already having herself a good time just watching the previews, but when the Paw Patrol finally showed up on screen, her reaction was priceless. She stopped what she was doing, turned around to look at us as if to say, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Then she turned back around and laughed, clapped her hands, and jumped up and down. She was overwhelmed with joy.

So was I, seeing her so happy. Really, a perfect start to the day.

After the movie, Yvette and I finished running errands and tidying up for Teegan’s going-away party. He was inviting friends over, and we were providing the food. Pulled pork, hot dogs, buffalo chicken dip and a cake. It was a lot of work, but I was happy to have this at my house. I wanted to throw a memorable party for him and his friends.

I think everyone had a damn good time, and I was happy to have the full house because soon it would be so empty with him off to college. They ate well, played games, listened to music, and made s’mores over an open fire. They had a good farewell party.

Yvette and I tried to make ourselves scarce so as not to infringe upon their good times.

I watched a movie on Netflix that seemed interesting and was recommended at work. The Last House. It was strange and right up my alley. Without getting into any spoilers, a family becomes trapped inside their house by means first unclear. Windows won’t break. Doors will not budge. They can’t even break down a wall. They have no way of exiting the house. It later becomes clear to them that they are not alone. The entire block is on the same boat.

Hours become days, become weeks, become months, become years.  They manage to persevere. Until they don’t. I actually rather liked the supernatural aspects of the movie once they revealed themselves. It was clever and, once again, tapped my Lovecraftian itch.

Monday morning I woke up with a house full of teenage boys scattered throughout. I laughed as I made my breakfast and had my coffee. Oh, I remember those days well. So will they when they are older. These memories will be thought of as “the good ole days.” We never know that we are living those days until years later. If only we knew then what we know now.

I was on office duty, but lucky for me, it was only going to be for Monday and Tuesday. Monday was a busy bitch and hotter than Hades. I was not digging people, and it was so busy. What I really needed to do was square away everything that I needed to have done for school next week. I needed to figure out textbooks and just how much I owed in tuition for the first payment plan.

As with everything else that I’ve experienced trying to take classes, nothing was clear. The online portal said I owed, but it only showed the full amount. Student Accounts said I didn’t owe anything. Which was it?

To play it safe, I made a payment. It wasn’t until later that I heard from Student Accounts again, telling me that the first payment was covered by the Tuition Exemption Program. Would have been nice to know before I clicked “Pay.”  Oh well. I had fully budgeted to make the payment, and it will count toward my overall tuition.

It was indeed a Monday.  Good riddance.

Tuesday. The last day of work for my week. Afterward, it was off to Aggieland.

Only a few minutes into the day, I was very happy to be moving Teegan into the dorms. At least I would be away from the shit show.

We had a morning meeting that was nothing but hogwash, served with burritos that would likely cause extreme diarrhea. Skip, please! I had my own burrito that I made that morning waiting for me, but I wasn’t able to actually eat the damn thing until about two hours into work. Every fucking time that I tried to sit and enjoy it, I was once again busy.  It was that kind of day.  Nonstop.

This all stemmed from the meeting. The big boss man mentioned that by the end of the day he wanted all bullshit work orders to be closed before move-in on Wednesday. He wanted a clean slate so that they could stay focused.

That meant people were hustling to finally finish what should have been finished by mid-summer. It meant a relentless barrage of bullshit for me.

The joy!

Wednesday we were highway hoppin’ to Aggieland. We loaded up two vehicles. Teegan and Yvette took the truck together, and I followed in Yvette’s. It had been a long time since I was on the highway alone, and I must say, it was rather fucking excellent. I jammed out to my music at volumes no one else would tolerate. It made the drive seem much shorter.

I had time to really think about Teegan out of the house and how much I will really miss him. I shed some tears.

His presence was always there. Even when you didn’t see him, you could hear him. For Christ’s sake, his yelling at his video games had become background noise. It was like a clock ticking—you heard it all the time, but eventually you stopped noticing it. Until the battery died and it suddenly stopped. I know when we get home, I’m going to miss that.

I’m going to miss the noise. I’m going to miss knowing he’s in the other room. I’m going to miss the little sounds of his everyday life that I never really thought about because they were just always there.

The silence left by him being gone is going to be deafening.

Five hours later, we were there. We had to make one quick stop at a window repair shop because some ass-faced trucker had slung a rock into Teegan’s window, but that took maybe five minutes of our time. After a quick late Chick-fil-A snack, it was off to Yvette’s childhood friend Andrea’s house. We stayed there a year ago when Teegan toured the campus, so it was nice being welcomed back.

One quick run to Costco, and we were off to dinner at a place Teegan had been recommended: Coco Shrimp. Nothing but shrimp on the menu, with rice and salad. This made it easy. I ordered the sweet and spicy, and my god, it was good. I even ate the fried tails. Bravo, Teegan. I get the feeling I’m going to like the food when we come to visit.

Time to go get some shut-eye before the big move-in.

I just realized Wednesday morning that I won’t be cooking for Teegan on a daily basis any longer. WTF am I going to do!!! My God, that was one of my everyday joys. And it’s gone. Man. For almost two years, just about every meal I’ve cooked—grocery runs, everything—has had Teegan in mind. I’ve wanted to cook to impress him more than anything. It’s the truth. I’d usually run our dinner plans by him before even starting the work. I wanted that boy to want my food, and I loved making something new for him and watching him go back for seconds. And now he will be gone.

It’s the little things like that I’ll miss about him that I didn’t even think about until randomly lying in bed awake before everyone else woke up. Damnit, I’m going to miss him.

I got up before everyone else, which, of course, is nothing unusual. Our gracious host had already taken leave; she was on a business trip in Utah. I decided to go grab some coffee and a breakfast burrito from the Exxon gas station up the road. I did the same thing on our visit a year ago, when I was surprised to find a little kitchen inside where they serve up some fantastic burritos. You need to know Spanish to really place an order. I almost forgot and screwed up the order.

Back at the house, I enjoyed my coffee on the back patio, taking note of just how goddamn humid it is here in Aggieland. My calm before the shit show of move-in. I was not looking forward to the stairs. Four flights of stairs. My back was already hurting, and we had yet to begin the trials that awaited us.

Teegan took off to help his roommate, who had an earlier move-in, so we waited. Then something unexpected happened, and in the worst way. When closing the garage door, the goddamn thing came off the rails. WTF!!! I stopped it, but it was fucked in more ways than we could fix. We tried releasing it, but the only thing holding it up was the bar and two wheels. I was afraid it would collapse. We called a repair guy who could get there and assess the problem while we were moving Teegan into the dorms. What a rough start. But lucky for us, for $400, he could fix it. Yeah. Tough break. Damnit.

Move-in was work, but a satisfying, fun sort of work. It was the excitement of watching the kids, and honestly, I was reliving my own move-in 26 years ago. At least it went smoothly. I expected the worst and was rewarded. Thank God the garage fiasco was the worst thing to happen all day.

His room was bigger than mine had been. It really wasn’t that bad, and they already had it arranged the way they wanted it before Yvette and I had arrived. His roommate certainly didn’t bring as much as Teegan, but maybe he would stagger more in later. Oh well, at least they were already friends before becoming roommates. That is the important thing. I can’t imagine moving in with a stranger.

I had some strong emotions hit me. Much deeper than I expected. I was transported back through time, watching these two young men and their excitement as they unpacked and arranged their dorm room. I was suddenly once again nineteen years old, fresh out of high school, in my dorm in Lubbock with my best friend, Samuel, trying to decorate my own room. Full of wonder and anxiety, but mostly barely contained, joyful excitement about all the unknown things we would discover. It was a new adventure. Good lord, if I could only go back to that day with some guidance. But would I really want to give any? Nope. I would let my younger self go discover.

It was a good day.

Yes, four flights of stairs and walking blocks back and forth between the car and the dorm wasn’t easy going. Yes, we were exhausted after five hours, but we accomplished a lot, and Teegan was moved in. The dreaded day was behind us. We were survivors. We were victorious. When the people at my university bitch about our move-in, I’ll laugh at them. What a joke. We won. Now we could weep.

Afterward, we took the kids to a late lunch and dropped them back on campus. Yvette and I had a few errands to run, grabbing little things for his dorm. We decided we did want to cook, so we picked up a frozen meal to zap in the oven.

We went back to the house, and the garage looked like new. Thank the Lord for that. We took much-needed showers after a day of sweating our asses off in Aggieland. I started dinner and poured us some wine.

We ate, relaxed, and watched a movie. We were fucking exhausted and ready for bed.

Friday. Happy Friday!

Yvette and I were moving slowly. The morning was sluggish. We were tired and a little sore. Physically and emotionally exhausted.

We spent the day more or less shopping for things we needed and returning things we didn’t need for the dorms. I never bitched or moaned. Not my ideal kind of day, but I was along for the ride, and it was fun having the time together.

We eventually were able to meet up with Teegan at his dorm to see how things had come together and how his first night had been. It was looking good, and they seemed to be having a good time.

Teegan came with us for some late lunch at Wings and More. We visited for a little while, talking about how his night went and what his plans were for the rest of the day. I was so happy to hear that he was so gung-ho about going out and doing things. If he is okay, I’m okay.  After lunch, we made one stop before dropping him back off for the night. I told him we would get him for lunch before we left, if that was okay. The last thing we want to do is cramp his style.

Yvette and I walked the campus and ran a couple more errands and eventually picked up some Chinese food to-go and returned to her friend’s house to wind down for the evening. We were both pooped. 

And then it hit me: we were going home without him

Good lord. Fuck. I’m wondering when all of this is going to hit me like a brick to the head. I know it hasn’t really sunk in yet.  It’s going to be so fucking weird going home without him

So that’s that. Move-in week came and went, and I’m not sure we’re okay yet. It wasn’t going to be easy, but Yvette and I have each other to get through it. I love this family, and I’m going to seriously miss Teegan. But I’m so damn proud of him. He’s ready for this, even if I’m not quite ready for him to be.

Happy Friday.

Jalapeño

Huevos con chorizo a la mexicana tacos.

Avocado toast & egg salad w/ bacon.

BBQ pulled pork nachos.

Yvette’s lasagna.

Poblano spinach chicken lasagna.

This week belonged to work. If I was home, I was working. If I was at work, I was busting my ass. It felt like every waking hour belonged to work.  There wasn’t much of the downtime I normally enjoy. Yes, I had a few moments scattered here and there that weren’t simply another form of work, but they were scarce.

I was up at the ass crack of dawn on Saturday morning.  The neighborhood was dead quiet except for the morning birds.  The air still had that cool morning feel before Texas remembered it was August. Coffee in hand, I watered the plants. I realize that in last week’s blog I talked about all the mornings I was up, and I promise not to regurgitate the same mundane bullshit, but Saturday morning was extra special because just a week earlier I had been sleeping in like a bum. Not anymore. Although, I was sort of wondering why the hell I was up so early when I could have been sleeping in.

Later on, Lola and her boyfriend arrived just minutes after seven o’clock, once again looking a little startled that I was already awake. They came for Alaya. They came to abduct the baby! I was in the middle of making breakfast, and they kept talking about how hungry they were.

I offered nothing. There was only enough food for Yvette and I.

I know I pissed them off, and I really don’t care. I was using the leftover potatoes and leftover chorizo. I’m sorry you showed up so damn early to take the little girl away from us, but we weren’t expecting you for breakfast. Get over it.

After they went on their way, I ran some errands in Yvette’s car before she headed off to get her nails done. It wasn’t as pretty as last week’s rainy-day errands, but I made my way to the hardware store, the water depot, and H-E-B to pick up some lunch for later. My main goal for the day was to clean up the backyard after the heavy rain we had a few weeks back. I had some bagging to do.

What I wasn’t aware of was just how many fucking bags I was going to need. Jesus, I created way more work for myself than I should have. I just kept expanding the scope of my project until it became a complete fucking bitch. I’d been mulching leaves for years, and I finally decided to clean them all up. Those bags were a fucking challenge.

I also watered the front yard, fixed the fence, and pulled weeds on my hands and knees. It was a productive day in the yard. I had even more plans laid out for Sunday.

Teegan and I were talking in the kitchen when Yvette called on her way home, so I fired up the grill and started lunch. Chicken sandwiches on Hawaiian buns. Delicious.

I took a shower, and then it was time to get that pesky battery replaced. I tried to jump it with my little jumper pack, but it was far beyond that. I had to hook it up to Yvette’s car just to get any life back. The poor thing was literally dead to the world—but not for long.

While we waited for the battery to be installed, we ran even more errands. It was nice just doing things with my wife while we were out and about. Nothing exciting. Just running errands together. Funny how that becomes something you appreciate. We always have a good time together. I know we’ll be doing this sort of thing for the rest of our lives, especially once our household starts getting smaller. Sad days.

Back at my car, it was alive and kicking like a wild donkey. Finally, both my car and I were operating at one hundred percent again. It was nice to have a reliable vehicle once more.

I remember the days when you could just buy a new car battery and change it yourself at your own leisure. It was never much of a hassle. Somewhere along the way, changing a battery became a mechanic’s job instead of everyone’s job. Gone are those days for most of us, with batteries tucked away in impossible locations and requiring tools most of us don’t possess.  Damn engineers. I hate having to find someone else to change my fucking battery, and I now vow to always check where the battery is located before buying another vehicle.

The rest of the day bled into the evening. Nothing much of note happened. Storms hovered on the horizon, but they stayed isolated and missed us entirely. It turned into a nice, peaceful evening. It was quiet.

I was already missing Alaya.

Sunday I made myself sleep in, which meant I was up by 8 o’clock cooking chicken and waffles.

That evening, per Teegan’s request, we were having baby back pork ribs, so I made an early run to the store so I could start marinating them. I was only doing a dry rub, but I wanted the ribs to sit for at least five hours before I even began cooking them. I was shooting for 3 o’clock and planning to cook them for three and a half hours.

My God, my blood sugar skyrocketed after breakfast. I even used keto-friendly ingredients, and I still didn’t stand a chance. I was beeping and over 400. How far over 400? I don’t have the slightest idea because that’s where my Dexcom device tops out. Either way, I was in bad shape, and I didn’t feel great. The joys of being a diabetic. Fuck.

Rather than just being lethargic, I decided on a plan of action. Like I mentioned, I had things in the yard that needed to be done. I attacked them in hopes that the activity would lower my blood sugar. To reinforce that, I took some insulin.

Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker!!

I was waiting on a friend to bring over a wheelbarrow and a shovel so I could tackle the main task. In the meantime, I decided to trim the hedges. They were looking a little unruly. I should have waited for Yvette before my high-blood-sugar diabetic ass climbed a ladder, but I didn’t. I completed the task and was fairly satisfied.

Next, it was time to mix up a little more herbicide to spray the remaining clover. The bastards simply refused to die. I’d been fighting them for years, but for the first time it felt like I was finally winning the war.  Although, they had choked out a good-sized portion of my beloved St. Augustine.

My friend Samuel came over to drop off the tools, and after a nice conversation, I got to work. My task was moving dirt. I had some erosion issues. I needed to move the dirt that had washed up against my fence to fill the ruts the rain had carved through my yard. Little floodplains, really. It was hot, and every wheelbarrow load felt heavier than the one before it.  An added bonus was that this chore would also relieve some of the pressure against my fence, which had too much weight pushing on it. I also uncovered a few sprinkler heads that I didn’t even know existed. Yikes… how many more were buried under the dirt? In the end, I found five.

After two hours, I decided it was too hot, so I called it quits until next time. I knew what I’d be doing next weekend.

I cleaned up and cooled down. It was after 3 o’clock, so I put the ribs in the oven. Then I headed out on my usual Sunday shopping run. Oh, what a joyous routine. H-E-B, Walmart, and whatever else happened to be in between. I stopped by my mother’s house and visited for a little while, and that was that. By the time I got home, two and a half hours had passed, and the ribs were almost done.

Dinner was a success, and after the day I’d had, those ribs tasted even better.

I was finally caught up with Teegan on House of the Dragon, so we sat down together and watched the final two episodes. This would be the last show we’d watch together before he left for college. It was a rather emotional evening for me. We both enjoyed the episodes immensely. I was happy the finale aired just before he left. It was a fantastic show, and I’m so glad he talked me into watching it.

Now we both wait until 2028 for the final season. Hopefully we’ll be able to watch that one together, too.

Monday I hit the ground running. I woke up just after six, like I have been doing for the last week or so, and took my shower. I proceeded with my new routine of watering the plants, drinking my coffee, and listening to the morning birds and my hawk friends. I was a little saddened that I didn’t hear them at the usual hour. Maybe they woke up early. Anyway, after that I prepared breakfast for Yvette and me: baked sweet potato with spicy honey, cinnamon granola, vanilla Greek yogurt, blueberries, and strawberries. A fantastic breakfast, if I do say so myself.

It was the calm before the weekly hurricane.  I was dreading going into work.

This was the week before they opened the dorms for move-in, and it’s when everyone suddenly needs something to complete projects that had been sitting open since late May, when the students initially moved out for the summer. It happens every fucking year. Every summer people convince themselves they have plenty of time. Then August arrives, everyone realizes what they didn’t finish, and suddenly it’s an emergency. Their emergency becomes the buyer’s emergency, which means it becomes my emergency.

So yeah, I couldn’t wait.

I knew I would have to break hearts and explain reality to certain people who think everything is always available. People would be upset with me, but I didn’t care. If you slack off, that falls on you. I’ll do what I can to help, but only what’s within my power.

So yes, work was about as busy as it gets for the man who’s constantly out and about around town. I had so many stops that I honestly lost track of where I’d been.  Home Depot, Lowe’s, and two handfuls of local supply houses.  I don’t think that is even really touching on all the stops.

I honestly didn’t mind. It also allowed me to knock out a couple of personal errands while I was out on the town. I needed some bolts, a garden hoe, and to drop something off at the dry cleaners. One advantage of spending the whole day driving around town is that I can knock out a couple of personal errands without making another trip later.

I will say it was certainly a Monday. I never sat still in the office long enough to get comfortable. Maybe thirty minutes in front of my computer all day. Yvette also had herself a busy day, with piles more bullshit than I encountered. Poor girl. I suggested a glass of wine.

After work, it randomly began to pour while the sun was still shining. It was short-lived, but it really came down hard. Hard enough to sort of fuck up the areas I filled in with dirt. Oh well, I can fix that. I just need to get a little sod sooner rather than later. The sudden sunshower was a lot of fun, though.

That night I watched the new Guy Ritchie movie In the Grey, starring Henry Cavill, Jake Gyllenhaal, and Eiza González. It’s an action thriller, but without the usual humor I’ve come to expect from a Guy Ritchie film. Honestly, I was underwhelmed. The script was kind of lame, and I had hoped for much sharper dialogue, but those moments were few and far between. I was left bored and ready for the film to just end. I suppose they can’t all be winners. Damn shame.

Tuesday was really just a nonstop drive around town. I was like a bee going from flower to flower. It was another one of those days everything blurred together into one long experience. I guess the day went by fast. I don’t even know. I started the day at six in the morning, so by the time I got off at five, I was done.

But not really.

Yvette and I ran to Home Depot to buy a microwave for Teegan’s dorm room. I knew they had them at a good price because earlier that day I had purchased six of them for the campus dorms. I’d been keeping an eye on prices around town, waiting for the right opportunity. I also made a point not to buy every single microwave Home Depot had.

It was another quiet night with Yvette. We’re trying to get used to it, but honestly, it’s not that easy.

Wednesday was more of the same. Just utter madness at work, with me running around trying to appease everyone I could. Like I mentioned earlier, I knew I was going to upset some of these fine folks. Boohoo.

I definitely had some problems with a few of the building technicians. Some people are just a pain in the ass for the sake of being a pain in the ass. They expect materials that are impossible to obtain, yet they insist they need them NOW! Like I can wave a magic wand and make them appear. For some reason, these people don’t seem to grasp that, as a runner, I know where you can find things in town—and where you can’t. When I tell them they’re only getting sixteen of the twenty-four they need, that’s because I already bought every single one available in town. They’re shit out of luck.  I don’t enjoy telling people no. Sometimes it’s simply the only honest answer.

They also need to get it through their thick skulls that they’re not the only people on campus who need something. Everyone needs something. Wait in fucking line. Look what happens when you wait until the last minute. Sometimes you don’t have any options left anymore.

Jackasses.

Every fucking year.

After work, I was still working. I went and purchased a little bit of Bermuda grass to lay over one of the runoff ruts that I patched over the weekend. After experiencing that very brief, heavy rain on Monday, I wanted some sod down to prevent all my hard work from washing away. Monday was proof that you just never know what the weather in West Texas is going to do.

I waited until after dinner to lay the sod. Not exactly cool, but cooler than immediately after work. I wasn’t planning on hurting myself. When the job was done, I had a glass of wine, not a beer, to kick back and relax. I was done working for the day.

I will admit, when I woke up on Thursday morning at 5:50, I thought it was Friday.  That illusion didn’t last long. Bummer when that didn’t turn out to be the case. I gritted my teeth and began my day settling into all my new routines. Since I was already up, I made the most of the nice, cool, quiet morning. Coffee in one hand, hose in the other, I watered the new sod and enjoyed the calm before another hectic day. I never heard the hawks.

The workday was more of the same, and as you’ve probably guessed, it was fucking busy. The only time I spent at my desk was the hour when everyone else was off to lunch. I like being busy, but damn, it can get a little overwhelming. And for a brief moment on Thursday, it did. We got absolutely slammed for about an hour in the office, with just about everything happening all at once.  Phones ringing, vendors waiting, deliveries piling up, people needing shit now—it all hit at once. When I was finally able to step out, I felt like I’d escaped a war zone. Utter chaos.

No rest this week. Immediately after work, I took my car to Discount Tire to see if they could help with a nail in one of the tires. They said it was in the sidewall, which I already knew. Thank God for the warranty. It only cost me a whopping fifteen bucks for a new tire. That’s a real steal.

While I sat and waited for the tire, I found myself wishing the Hooters next door was still open. In the past, it helped pass the time. Not for the reasons some of you gutter-minded folks might think, but for a cold beer and a snack. It was as good a place as any and just happened to be next door. Fuzzy’s Tacos is across the street, but that’s a gamble I’m not willing to take with the traffic.

Once the tire was taken care of, I stopped by the grocery store because we didn’t really have plans for dinner. We already had the shaved steak, so I just grabbed what I needed to make Philly cheesesteaks. That’s what I made for dinner. I slaved over the hot grill while the Texas heat did its best to make me regret it. When dinner was done, I wasn’t. I still had a few tasks to tend to in the yard. I needed to move more dirt to fill in the spaces between the sod. I made the most of the “somewhat” cooler evenings. I still have so much dirt to move, and I haven’t even gotten to the granite yet.

I breathed a sigh of relief, for Friday was finally upon us. Everyone I talked to seemed to be in the same boat. It was the week from hell that simply would not end. I still had to make it through work.

When I arrived, I saw that I was already tied up. My boss was off for the day, but it seemed he’d stayed late looking for things for me to purchase that weren’t showing up on the reorder reports. Oh well. At least it kept me busy and made the day go by quickly.

During my lunch break, I made my way downtown to the bank. I wanted to get something special for the kids—at least I know Teegan will appreciate the gift. The United States of America commemorative 250-year quarter. Only 250,000 in circulation. I got Tee, Lola, Noah, Niles, Alaya, Yvette and myself each a coin. As a coin collector, I thought it would be something fun for everyone, and the little ones would have something to hold onto years from now. I also planned on getting protective cases for each coin to keep them in mint condition. I grabbed a roll specifically for Teegan because he’s an actual coin collector like I am, and an unopened roll could become a sought-after item years down the road.

Personally, I always loved getting coins from my father, so I hope they appreciate the gift.

So that was my week. Nothing but work, yard projects, and trying to stay one step ahead of the bullshit. Not every week has a big story to tell. Sometimes surviving the grind is accomplishment enough.

Oh, and those seven beers that have been calling my name? They survived another week untouched and are still patiently waiting for me to acknowledge them. Let’s keep them waiting. This battery is still fully charged.

Happy Friday!!

Jalapeño.

Chorizo bean and potato tacos.

Grilled chicken sandwich on Hawaiian buns.

Mandarin orange chicken.

Chicken & waffles.

Baby Back Ribs.

Hibachi.

Stuffed salmon, broccoli cheese and rice pilaf.

Mongolian beef.

Philly cheesesteak w/ onion rings.

Chimichurri steak, broccolini & scalloped potatoes.

I thought I’d put myself through a little experiment this week. I decided not to have a single beer. Aside from the obvious health benefits—maybe I’d lose a few inches—it would also save me a little money, and I was up for a challenge.

Where I work, an evening beer has become part of my routine. It’s how I usually wind down after the day. So I thought, why not find another way? I liked that it was entirely my own idea. No doctor had suggested it. No one had challenged me to do it. I simply wanted to see what would happen.

To make things even more interesting, I still had seven beers sitting in the refrigerator. Every time I opened the door, they’d be staring back at me, always within arm’s reach. Temptation wasn’t going anywhere.

Saturday was so wonderfully and gloomy.   I’d had a long, exhausting week, so I slept as late as I possibly could, which turned out to be ten o’clock. I woke up feeling refreshed—the best I’d felt all week.

Seeing those gray skies outside only elevated my mood. Before doing anything else, I pulled the scale out from under the bathroom sink. If I was going to spend a week without beer, I wanted a baseline to compare against when it was over.

After that, I wandered into the kitchen and smiled as I looked out the window at the neighborhood blanketed beneath thick gray clouds. The weather wasn’t what I’d expected, so I checked my weather app and saw there was actually a chance of rain.  Perfect!

After breakfast, I gathered everything I needed and headed into the backyard. If it was going to rain, I wanted to take advantage of it by planting more grass seed. The previous patch had filled in enough that I felt comfortable removing the temporary dog fence and starting on another section. I prepped the ground, spread the seed, watered it in, and crossed my fingers that Mother Nature would do the rest.

My Saturday errand list looked like something generated by a malfunctioning AI: pay the water bill, hunt down a hidden sheep, get my oil reminder reset, visit two grocery stores, fill up the tank, and somehow locate CBD. I figured CBD might help me relax in the evenings while I was avoiding beer.  No luck.  Banned.  Apparently, Texas wasn’t interested in helping me with that plan.

As luck would have it, it started raining shortly after I left the house.  Win!  I drove around taking care of my errands in the rain, completely satisfied with my decision to plant the grass seed earlier.  I was as happy as a dog with a bone.

The only snag came while getting my “Oil Change Required” reminder reset. My already struggling car battery finally gave up and died. The guys at the shop were kind enough to give me a jump while they fiddled with the electronics. I’d been expecting the battery to quit on me sooner or later, so I wasn’t exactly surprised.  Still…bummer.

The rest of the errands went off without incident. By the time I got home, Alaya was asleep, which gave Yvette and me the perfect excuse to sneak in an afternoon nap on a gloriously gloomy Saturday.

That evening, after dinner, I started watching a new series called Widow’s Bay. It’s a comedic horror show set in a small New England coastal town. The Mayer was pushing against locals to attract tourism, the town wasn’t what it seems. Something ancient had been awakened. I was hooked almost immediately. The cast is wonderfully eccentric, and Matthew Rhys is fantastic as the mayor. His performance alone is worth watching.  So good, in fact, that he has been nominated for an Emmy Award.

Something about small coastal communities and horror has always intrigued me. Perhaps it is my adoration for H.P. Lovecraft, whose stories so often unfolded in places where the sea seemed to conceal things from humanity.  Widow’s Bay captures some of that same atmosphere while never taking itself too seriously. It manages to be funny and unsettling at the same time, balancing small-town politics with supernatural mystery surprisingly well. I’m already disappointed there’s only one season available.

I woke up early Sunday to make up for sleeping in the day before. I was looking forward to enjoying my coffee in solitude, only to discover Lola and her current boyfriend occupying my kitchen. Rather than linger, I headed to the store to grab an avocado, some potatoes, and a few seasonings so I could make myself an omelet.

While the potatoes cooked, I finally got the peaceful morning I’d been hoping for. I took my coffee out to the patio and enjoyed the cool air. It was a rare August morning in Texas—comfortable enough to actually sit outside and appreciate it.

 By the time I came back inside, everyone was awake except for Teegan. We ate breakfast together while the kids finished their last-minute travel preparations.

You see, the kids were flying out to go take care of their father’s estate. Sad that they must do this. It wouldn’t be in a just and fair world. Alas, that’s what they found themselves having to do.  I was worried about what obstacles they might encounter. 

Watching them load up the car wasn’t just another goodbye. They weren’t leaving for vacation or college. They were leaving to sort through the life someone else no longer gets to live while also dealing with the cruelty of grandparents who should have been a source of comfort. That’s a burden no kid should have to carry.

I was left alone.

With the place to myself, I decided to clean the bathroom from top to bottom. That project consumed a good chunk of the afternoon. After breathing cleaning chemicals for several hours, I didn’t have much ambition left, so I settled into the quiet house and watched a few more episodes of Widow’s Bay.

It could have easily turned into a night of debauchery with the house all to myself, but instead I abstained from drinking.  Those seven beers were practically hollering at me, but I told them no.  Not tonight.

The weekend came to an end far sooner than I would have liked.

Monday, I woke up exceptionally early and was out of bed by 6:00 a.m. I was full of enthusiasm and unexpected energy. Was it really the lack of beer? It couldn’t be that simple…could it? Usually, I would fight to get a little more shut-eye, but that morning I was rather happy to be up. By the time my alarm went off, I was already out of the shower and drinking my coffee outside on the patio, which I could do because it was only sixty-seven degrees. That’s a wonderful August morning, though it wouldn’t last.

My energy didn’t waver throughout the day. I felt stronger than I had all the previous week. I suppose all the rest I got over the weekend, combined with the lack of beer, was much needed. I felt like a battery that had finally received a full charge. I was running at 100 percent and pushing along at full throttle.

If only the battery in my car had been faring as well as I was. Alas.

Yvette got home mid-afternoon while I was still slogging through the workday. I was looking forward to seeing Yvette and Alaya after work. The house wouldn’t be quiet anymore.  Of course… the house was quiet.    Alaya had taken a late nap because she hadn’t napped at all earlier in the day. This was at six o’clock.  Yikes.

I went about my business getting dinner together, and we let her sleep much longer than she should have. The baby woke up wired like a feral cat.  At ten o’clock she was sprinting from one end of the house to the other. Putting her to bed was indeed a chore from hell.

Let me just say, my sleep was minimal.  One thing was certain: I still hadn’t cracked open a beer.

Tuesday, I woke up with noticeably less pep than I had on Monday morning. I suspect it was the combination of very little sleep and overmedicating with a sleep aid in a desperate attempt to get some rest.  Oh well. Life goes on.  The struggle was, as I like to say, fucking real.

I was busy from the moment I walked into work until the moment I walked out the door.

At one point, I took a short reprieve to check my tuition billing status. It looked like my Employee Tuition Exemption had finally gone through. Success!  …or so I thought. 

What I wasn’t expecting were all the lingering bullshit fees. Seriously, why am I paying a $150 distance-learning fee when I’m physically on campus? That one fee alone is equal to the cost of my remaining tuition. Then, just to add the cherry on top, there’s the textbook fee. Somehow, I’m paying more in tuition fees than I am in actual tuition.  I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Even with those fees, what I’m paying is only a small fraction of what the semester would have cost before the exemption.

…

No wait!  I’m still going to bitch.  I have to.  Fuck these fees. What a fantastic way to stick it to students. I can officially complain about them again because, after seventeen years, I’m a student once more—and apparently I’m getting ramrodded by pointless fees all over again. The outrage! Some traditions never die. 

Now all that’s left is to see whether I receive the Staff Senate Scholarship.

On Wednesday, the morning pep was back.  I was out of bed by six o’clock, took my shower, and decided to make some potato and egg tacos. I diced up the papas, got them cooking, made myself a cup of coffee, and stepped outside to fire up the Blackstone for the tortillas. While breakfast cooked, I watered all the plants and enjoyed the cool morning air. Before seven o’clock, breakfast was nearly ready, the plants were watered, and I was already feeling like I’d accomplished something.

I even enjoyed listening to my new hawk friends waking up.  Early birds.  Wait a minute…  Am I an early bird?  What is happening to me?  I am not a morning person. 

Maybe the four days without beer was changing me in more ways than I’d expected. I found myself asking questions. Is it possible that I really am a morning person? Where was all this extra energy coming from? Had beer been quietly stealing my mornings all this time?

As I sipped my coffee, one thought kept coming back to me:  What’s better—feeling relaxed in the evenings or feeling alive in the mornings?  That question lingered with me for the rest of the day.

My momentum slowed a little when it was time to leave for work. That pesky car battery had finally had enough. It wouldn’t start.  No surprise there.  It had already stranded me once while trying to leave for lunch the day before. Thankfully, I’d borrowed a battery jumper from my mother, figuring it would probably come in handy before this ordeal was over.  I was right.  The thing worked like a charm, and I was soon on my way to work. I wasn’t about to let my car’s dead battery dampen my own full charge.

I wasted no time diving into the workday, beginning with a task I absolutely despised. The task itself wasn’t difficult. The problem was the person who had requested it.  There is something about laziness in the workplace that drives me absolutely batshit crazy. After working on campus long enough to watch countless people come and go in that position, I can honestly say this individual is the worst of the bunch. If there’s a way to pawn off part of their job onto someone else, they’ll find it.

I’m hardly alone in feeling that way. One of my coworkers even had a small blowup over it.  Me?  I simply grit my teeth, do the work, and moved on.

After work, we headed over to my in-laws’ house to celebrate Yvette’s niece’s twentieth birthday. Roger had made beef enchiladas, crunchy tacos, beans, and some sort of pasta.  Then came the cake.  It was from Nothing Bundt Cakes, and damn if it wasn’t one of the best desserts I’d had in a long time.  Being diabetic, I generally stay away from sweets, but every now and then you just have to treat yourself.  It was a gloriously bloated meal, and by the end of the evening I was thoroughly satisfied…and completely exhausted.

One thing I did notice after four days without beer was that my insomnia seemed to be getting a little worse. Falling asleep was becoming more difficult, and staying asleep wasn’t much easier.  Oddly enough, it didn’t seem to be affecting my mornings. I was still waking up earlier and with more energy than usual.  Maybe I should try going to bed a little later.  Would that solve anything?  Probably not.  I’ve lived with insomnia for most of my life, and at this point it’s less of a problem to solve than a burden to adapt to.  Again…  The struggle is real.

One day closer to Friday.  I woke up early enough to once again share a quiet moment on the patio with my hawk friends. It seems they wake up like clockwork at around 6:45 every morning. Another pleasant August morning in Texas, and I found myself genuinely enjoying the silence.  I’ve discovered a little peace in being awake before most of the town gets moving.  It’s relaxing.

Yeah… What the hell is going on with me?

I ditched my own vehicle because I didn’t feel like screwing around with the battery every time I needed to start it. With the kids out of town, I could simply borrow one of their cars instead. Here I was, full of energy, while my own vehicle sat lifeless in the driveway.

Once I got to work, I had surprisingly little to do. I knew that wouldn’t last—and it didn’t—so I took advantage of the brief moment of peace. I needed to make a trek across campus, and since the weather was so nice, I decided to take the scenic route. I dusted off my earbuds, put on a mellow album, and cruised across campus feeling just about perfect.

I drove through the football stadium and around the bowl. The view from up there is always worth taking in, and I paused for a moment to watch the team practicing on the field below. Seeing the athletes back in action is one of those unmistakable signs that summer is beginning to wind down.

After work, we took Alaya to the pool.  It was hotter than hell, she’d been asking to go, and honestly, it sounded like a pretty good idea to me too.  It was nice just standing in the water, trying to escape the Texas heat for a little while. Alaya had an absolute blast. She splashed, laughed, and smiled from ear to ear. 

Of course, no trip to the pool would be complete without an order of curly fries.  Alaya certainly wasn’t going to let that tradition die.  Pool equals curly fries.  That’s simply the way the universe works.  She devoured them like a ravenous little animal. I can’t blame her—they make some damn good fries.

By the end of the evening, all three of us were running on low batteries and in desperate need of a recharge.

Powered up and ready to go Friday morning, I once again found myself outside listening to my hawk friends while watering the plants, cooking breakfast on the Blackstone, and sipping my coffee. I was relieved the week was finally coming to an end.  My Lord, it had started as a relentless beast.

Work was a motherfucker, but at least I was fully charged and ready to tackle it. This time of year is always hectic around here, and we were getting absolutely swamped. As nice as it was to stay busy, I was more than ready to slow things down for a couple of days. If nothing else, the pace of the week had guaranteed that I’d appreciate the weekend even more.

Naturally, I started the morning by doing more work for that wonderfully lazy individual on campus. From the very beginning, I could tell the job had been done incorrectly. But who was I to tell them how to do their own work? Besides, that would have required them to actually be around, and—surprise, surprise—they were nowhere to be found.  Maybe this particular screw-up would finally find its way back to their supervisor.

A guy can dream.

So…  I made it through an entire week without a single beer.  All seven were still sitting in the refrigerator.  By Friday, their voices had changed. They were no longer hollering at me every time I opened the door. Instead, they seemed almost resigned, quietly pleading for me to join them one more time.  I thought about it.  Then I closed the refrigerator door.

Why not make it two weeks? I was already on a roll. The scale barely moved, but I didn’t really care anymore. Besides, I hadn’t felt this energized in a long time.  Maybe I’d stumbled onto something.

Earlier in the week, I found myself wondering what was better: feeling relaxed in the evenings or feeling alive in the mornings.  A week later, I still don’t know the answer.  But I think I’m finally asking the right question.

Happy Friday!!

Jalapeño

Sausage egg tacos.

Pizza, wings and salad.

Ham, mushroom, chipotle pepper cheese omelet w/ sautéed potatoes.

Spaghetti & spicy Italian meatballs w/ broccolini.

Gorgonzola Gnocchi w/ grilled chicken, broccoli & sun-dried tomatoes.

Chicken fajita makings smothered in cheese served with Spanish rice. I also made that delicious nuclear green sauce. 🥵

Spicy steak bits w/ Spanish rice, refried beans, Musrooms, peppers and onion and green sauce.

Ground beef teriyaki w/ mushrooms & broccoli.

Some weeks are packed with major events. This wasn’t one of those weeks.

A summary of the week would include watching a family of hawks search for a new home, finally getting rid of a tree I’d hated for years, running headfirst into university red tape, Billy Zane somehow earning my hatred all over again, and finding satisfaction in helping people at work.

None of it was life-changing, but together it made for a week worth remembering.

Saturday was supposed to be a day for sleeping in, but I was surprised awake by the rumble and growl of chainsaws across the street. This marked the third weekend in a row that neighbors had trees removed. What is it with tree trimmers working weekends?

Since I was already up, I decided to go ahead and knock out my yard work. It was time to tame my yard, for she was getting out of hand. While mowing, I watched the tree removal with great fascination. I even contemplated asking them for a quote to remove the pesky oak I’d despised ever since moving into the house eight years ago. It had clearly started as a sapling beneath a much larger oak and had been left to its own devices over the years, growing into a formidable tree of its own. The problem was that the damn thing grew at a strange angle toward the street. One year, half the damn thing ended up lying in the road. Cleaning up that mess wasn’t cheap.

When they finished working across the street, I decided to ask for a quote after all. The guy offered to remove the tree right then and there for two hundred bucks. I countered with one hundred. He came back with one hundred twenty-five.  “How about one-twenty?” I asked. “All I’ve got are twenties.”  He laughed and said, “Sure thing.”

It worked out to an extra forty bucks for each of them, and the whole job only took about fifteen minutes.

It was pretty impressive. With the truck already parked across the street, the boss walked his chainsaw over and cut the tree down in about five minutes. Once it hit the ground, they hooked a winch to the stump, dragged it across the street, and fed the whole damn thing into the grinder. Fifteen minutes after I’d asked for a quote, the tree was gone, and I was finally rid of the fucking thing.

That made six trees on my block that had been removed within the last three weeks.

One of the more entertaining—and unexpected—bonuses of all the tree removal has been the displaced hawk family. This truly solidifies my status as a nerd because my bird-watching ass was absolutely enthralled.

In all seriousness, I do feel for the hawks. They likely lost their home, and hearing their distress calls genuinely made me sad. I’d never seen—or heard—birds so obviously upset. It was heartbreaking, but damn if they aren’t cool as hell to watch.  What I first thought was a single hawk turned out to be three. I think they’re broad-winged hawks, though I’m no expert. They spend their days flying from tree to tree, calling back and forth to one another. One evening, Yvette and I watched one swoop down and snatch a dove right out of the street.  Poor dove.

They’re truly a pleasure to watch, and I’d be perfectly happy if they decided to make my yard their new home. Maybe they’ll chase away all the shitting doves that keep decorating my car.

Monday was my sitting week.  Dammit.

I also had an online orientation for the fall semester that I needed to complete. It consisted of a bunch of online modules. I probably could have skipped the whole thing, but considering I haven’t taken a college class in seventeen years—and certainly never an online one—I figured I might learn something.

It was terrible.  The dean giving the orientation had all the personality of an elementary school teacher talking to first graders. Everything felt overly simplified.  Managing my time? Self-care? Really?  I suppose some of it might be useful to an incoming freshman, but my Lord, I don’t know that I learned anything I didn’t already know.

I also received my tuition bill on Tuesday—in full, of course. Human Resources had submitted my exemption paperwork that very same day, so naturally Student Accounts hadn’t had time to apply it yet.

I tell you what, I started this process back in April. I thought I was being proactive, but apparently that didn’t accomplish much.

To make matters even worse, I discovered the woman in HR I’d been emailing back and forth with had left the university for greener pastures. It would’ve been nice to know that. I just assumed she’d been ignoring me. From there I got bounced from one office to another, each pointing me toward someone else who supposedly had the answer. Eventually I was told to contact an entirely different department because they didn’t know either.  Typical.

It’s getting harder and harder to find anyone who actually knows what’s going on these days.

I was also left wondering whether I’d been selected for the Staff Senate Scholarship. No one in Staff Senate seems to know who serves on the selection committee..  Wild.

The week itself was hot and surprisingly quiet. Teegan was away at an Aggie camp, while Lola and Alaya were rarely around. Yvette and I ended up enjoying some quality time together.

My mother left town Thursday for a girls’ trip, so we watched her dogs and picked up some Thai food near her house. It was just the two of us… and four dogs.

We watched another Sam Neill movie from my childhood that I hadn’t seen in many, many moons—Dead Calm. Also starring Nicole Kidman and Billy Zane, it’s really just a three-person movie. Neill spends much of the film alone aboard a sinking ship, desperately trying to get back to his wife while she’s trapped on their sailboat with a madman played by Zane.  It’s a really good film, and Sam Neill conveys desperation almost entirely through his facial expressions.

Of course, when I first watched the movie years ago, my biggest complaint was that he wasn’t playing Dr. Alan Grant and didn’t get to foil the bad guy until the very end. Watching it now as an adult—and being much more familiar with Neill as an actor—I realize how good he really is. He makes the character feel completely believable, even without the memorable dialogue he had in Jurassic Park.

I will say this, though: I still find Billy Zane completely detestable to this day, and this movie is probably to blame.  How dare this ass clown think he can fuck with Dr. Grant?

Friday wrapped up the work week with a meeting between my boss and several department heads from around campus regarding Receiving Documents and Okays to Pay. Since I process them every single day, I was invited to participate.  Who better to include than me?

Before the meeting, I created a simple step-by-step guide with screenshots explaining the entire process. I thought it would make things much easier.  Unfortunately, Bruce accidentally told me the wrong Kimberly would be attending, so I sent the guide to the wrong Kimberly. She promised to forward it to the correct Kimberly.  She didn’t.

Early in the meeting, the right Kimberly pointed out that the attachment had never been sent by the wrong Kimberly. I quietly excused myself from the meeting, emailed the guide to everyone, and jumped right back in.  Thankfully, it ended up being exactly what everyone needed. I barely had to explain anything because people were able to follow the document on their own. That felt incredibly validating after spending the extra time putting it together. I’d call the meeting a success, and hopefully the gears will turn a little more smoothly around the university because of it.

And that was my week. Nothing earth-shattering happened, but sometimes it’s the mundane bullshit that makes for the best blogs.

Happy Friday!!

Jalapeño

It was the end of the World Cup. There were two games over the weekend: the third-place playoff and the final. Thirty-nine days had passed since the tournament kicked off. My Lord, what a ride it had been.

The weekend’s matches featured France and England battling for third place, while Spain and Argentina faced off for the championship. Both games were excellent, but they couldn’t have been more different.

Let’s begin with the fight for third place. First off, this game might not appeal to many fans unless they are specifically rooting for one of the two teams. Not many people give a damn about who finishes third. I understand why some people are turned away by the concept. To me, though, it’s a must-see event between two of the best teams in the tournament with a clear winner. What’s not to love about that? Idiot naysayers.

The first half of the game scared me. England was kicking the shit out of France, and France didn’t have a single answer. It was as one-sided as a game can be, and rather fucking boring even if you were pulling for England—which I was. By halftime, the score was 4-0. That is a punishing display.

Lucky for me, and the rest of the world, France came out after halftime with real answers. They went on the offensive and started kicking ass. Within minutes, they had cut the lead to 4-3. It suddenly became a tremendously entertaining match, but in the end England was the better team. The final score was 6-4. It ended up being the highest-scoring game of the tournament, with England claiming third place.

The final was a different story altogether. It was one-sided in the sense that Spain was constantly on the attack, but Argentina’s defense simply refused to break. My God, Spain finished with twenty shots. Argentina managed only three shots of its own, none of them successful. The final score was just 1-0, with Spain crowned world champions.

That didn’t make it a boring game. Quite the contrary. It was a rush to behold—a real nail-biter. I was pulling for Argentina, so every one of those deflected Spanish shots felt like a jolt to my heart. The anxiety was very real. I yelled plenty in support of Argentina’s goalkeeper and his extraordinary performance. He was the only reason Argentina was still in that match. Bless his heart.

So the World Cup was now over. I was proud that we were good hosts to the people who traveled to the United States for the tournament. I was glad we managed to change some people’s perspectives about what America is really like. Some 6,810,966 people attended the tournament, and I hope many of them left realizing that most Americans are good people—that our current leadership does not define who we are.

As a foodie, I was especially thrilled to see how visitors embraced our food. Foods that I never really thought of as uniquely American—like ranch dressing. To us, it’s just another condiment, but it has apparently taken the world by storm.  Foreigners were buying it up and trying to bring it with them on flights back home..  Ranch fucking dressing.  Crazy.

What a remarkable thirty-nine days it had been. My sadness at the end was on full display. What in the bloody hell was I supposed to do with myself? After every tournament ends, I always feel this way. Empty and lost, but also overwhelmed by the memories and by what I, along with every other fan, shared during those weeks. For thirty-nine days the world was briefly brought together through one sport. That’s pretty damn special..

Aside from the World Cup, the weekend was spent spraying the god-awful weeds that all the rain had awakened. Yvette and I had Alaya while the house was otherwise empty. She had a photo shoot, and we got her all dressed up only to have the session rescheduled for the following day. So we got to do it all over again. It happens.

We took her to the pool a couple of times, where we witnessed a poor kid hit his head on the diving board. The lifeguard didn’t even move. It was bad. Neglectful enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if he lost his job.

We had lunch at my in-laws’ house on Sunday. I also made a point of watching a Sam Neill movie I hadn’t seen before, Omen: The Final Conflict. He was excellent as Damien, the Antichrist. That was my weekend in a nutshell.

The week was a hot one. Summer was finally showing its fangs. Especially after the cool, rainy week before, our bodies weren’t acclimated to the sudden heat. I hated every minute of it. The heat just takes a toll on my diabetic ass. I feel weak, get bad headaches, and it just takes the piss out of me.

I had two meetings during the week: Staff Senate and Facilities’ “All Hands on Deck.”

The Staff Senate meeting was mostly transitional. The passing of the torch had happened the month before, but nobody had really explained to the new executive officers what they needed to do or even what they had access to. As it turned out, they had very little access at all. Yvette was really stressed going in as secretary without having anything prepared. I understood that stress completely.

Attendance was extremely low—we almost didn’t make quorum.  I believe this was because no reminders were given in advance.  What few of us that were in attendance learned was that the university administration is a bunch of cheap asses, only giving us a 2% raise while our insurance premiums are increasing. In reality, we aren’t seeing any pay increase at all. Cheap bastards.

The “All Hands on Deck” meeting was short. It was basically a safety meeting reminding employees to ask for help instead of hurting themselves trying to do too much alone. Pretty common-sense stuff.

After that, though, the elephant in the room was finally addressed: our 2% raise.  I already knew this from my prior meeting earlier in the week, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.  Some of my coworkers let out a mournful little laugh.

What a joke.

With that, the meeting was adjourned. Nobody really had anything to say. Morale was broken and no one cared.

Teegan made it home from his little trip with friends to Galveston.  He seemed to have a great time and I was happy for him.  He even brought back a rare treat, some shark fillets.  It was nice to have him back in the house.  Yvette and I had a little taste of what it will  be like when he goes off to college.  Yikes.  I for one will miss the hell out of him.

That was basically my week. Nothing especially important happened, but emotionally it felt like a strange one. Sadness over the World Cup ending, bitterness over a pathetic raise, and weariness from the fucking heat. I hate summer.

Jalapeño

Guiso & Spanish rice w/ fried egg.

Cilantro lime jalapeño rice chicken w/ black beans.

Biscuits & gravy.

Sloppy Joes.

Japanese short ribs with grilled zucchini and sriracha sprout salad and rice.

Italian sausage cheese ravioli.

Ground sesame chicken & garlic ginger green bean.

The week was a wild one for Texas in July. For starters, the temperature never once reached ninety degrees. Heck, most of the week was spent in the seventies. We expect to be roasting this time of year, but instead it felt more like October. On top of the cooler temperatures, we also had rain aplenty. On Tuesday, the rain came down so quickly and fiercely that the roads flooded in no time. Right at five o’clock, I might add. Of course it did. Trying to get home through a rushing torrent ripped the engine splash shield almost completely off the underside of my car. A real bummer. Not that it’s really needed.

It’s amazing what this kind of weather does to people in Texas when it’s usually so damn hot. Everyone seems to be in a better mood, and the extra rainfall brings a sense of giddiness to many of us Texans who are accustomed to drought. Rain throughout the week isn’t very common this time of year, at least not around here. I don’t want flooding, but I’ll gladly take full reservoirs. I know I had a good attitude all week—even with a splash shield dragging underneath my car.

The week also included the semifinals of the World Cup. Spain beat France on Tuesday, and Argentina defeated England on Wednesday. Both games took place while I was at work, but on Wednesday our Multicultural Center was unofficially hosting a World Cup watch party. I took a break with a couple of university employees and watched part of the match. I was the lone Argentina fan, which made it all the sweeter when they won. I allowed myself a brief moment of gloating.

I couldn’t believe the World Cup was already nearing its end. A month ago, it had only just begun.

I was also powering my way through House of the Dragon. I finished the second season, leaving only three episodes before I was all caught up with Teegan. I was enjoying the show immensely and was thankful he convinced me to watch something I had initially dismissed. My reasons for overlooking it were completely unfounded. It has been a fantastic experience, and I’m looking forward to finally being caught up so we can watch the new episodes together.

This isn’t to say the week was all roses. Monday morning brought news I wasn’t remotely prepared for.

The week began with a death blow I wasn’t expecting—the death of Sam Neill.

He was one of my all-time favorite actors and, honestly, one of my favorite celebrities in general. Everything I’ve ever read or seen suggested he was a genuinely good man. I hated waking up to that news. At first, I couldn’t believe it. I had only recently seen him post on Instagram. I immediately had to fact-check the story. This couldn’t have happened.

But alas, it had.

The man had been part of my life since I was twelve years old, when he first appeared as Dr. Alan Grant in Jurassic Park. His passing really threw me for a loop. I didn’t realize until he died just how much I’d subconsciously viewed him as a movie father figure. He brought such warmth to Dr. Grant that he became exactly that. His death doesn’t simply feel like losing a celebrity I admired—it feels a little like losing a member of the family, even though we never met.

This one hit harder than almost any other celebrity death. Rest in peace to an absolute legend.

He starred in three of my favorite films.

Jurassic Park might very well be my favorite movie of all time. It was a foundational film for me as a kid. I still remember sitting in the theater with my family, completely awestruck when the credits rolled. It wasn’t just the dinosaurs that captured my imagination. Neill’s portrayal of Dr. Grant made digging for dinosaur bones seem as cool as Indiana Jones made archaeology. He was the dinosaur guy. After seeing that movie, I wanted to become a paleontologist. I hadn’t seen many of Neill’s other films at the time, but after Jurassic Park, if Sam Neill starred in it, I wanted to watch it.

The other two films of his that rank among my favorites are the horror classics In the Mouth of Madness and Event Horizon. He absolutely nails both performances.

By the end of Event Horizon, he’s utterly terrifying. “Where we’re going, we don’t need eyes to see…” This is the same man who played the warm, fatherly Dr. Grant. He can’t be the villain—he’s Sam Neill. He’s everyone’s lovable guy. Then suddenly he’s scarred, eyeless, and trying to drag people into Hell. It’s incredible. What range.

In the Mouth of Madness is another phenomenal film. Few actors spent as much time confronting Lovecraftian horrors throughout their careers, and even fewer could portray a slow descent into madness as convincingly as Neill. As John Trent, he gradually loses his grip on reality. By the film’s end, he’s completely unraveled. The performance is absolutely batshit—in the best possible way. He begins the movie full of confidence, and by the end that confidence has completely collapsed into chaos. He sells every second of it.

Sam Neill left an indelible mark on the horror genre.

One of my more recent viewings of his work was Possession, a film released in 1981—the same year I was born. Horror fans talked about this movie for years, but unless you owned an old VHS copy, you simply weren’t going to see it. It wasn’t streaming anywhere, and it had never been properly released on DVD or Blu-ray. It eluded me for years before I finally found a terrible-quality upload on YouTube.

Watching it felt like discovering something forbidden. Something almost mythical. A hidden treasure for horror fans—and especially for Sam Neill fans.

His performance absolutely knocked my socks off. It remains the most powerful performance of his I’ve ever seen. He navigates such an incredible range of emotions that it’s almost overwhelming to watch. That film is art—intoxicating, mesmerizing, excruciating, and emotionally brutal in the most believable way possible. Finding Possession felt like discovering the Holy Grail of horror films. Having been a Sam Neill fan for over thirty-three years, I was shocked that such an extraordinary performance wasn’t discussed more often whenever people talked about his career.

Thankfully, the film was eventually released to a much wider audience.

Those are only a handful of the many films in which he gave memorable performances.  He reprised his role as Dr. Grant in two Jurassic Park sequels and also gave memorable performances in The Hunt for Red October, Memoirs of an Invisible Man, Daybreakers, The Hunter, and Hunt for the Wilderpeople.   Luckily for me, he left behind an extensive filmography that I have yet to explore. When I have the time, I plan to start catching up, beginning with The Omen: Final Conflict.

During COVID, Neill developed quite a presence on Instagram. For me—and for countless others—he became a bright spot during some very dark days. I looked forward to his videos about life on his winery, the animals on his farm, and the quiet joy he seemed to find in everyday moments. That warmth continued right up until shortly before his passing.

For those of us who followed him, it genuinely felt like we knew those animals. We celebrated them and mourned them when one passed away. That’s how gifted Sam Neill was. He invited people into his life with warmth, humor, and kindness. You couldn’t help but feel connected to him. To be honest, in the later years of his life, I came to know him more through his online presence than through his acting credits. That’s a testament to the kind of person he was.

His death stayed on my mind all week, and it still doesn’t quite feel real. Thirty-three years after first watching him play Dr. Grant, he’d become something like a familiar uncle in my mind. The world simply felt like a better place with Sam Neill in it.

His presence will be deeply missed.

Rest in peace, Sam Neill.

Jalapeño

Beef Bulgolgi & kimchi.

Orange steak w/ red rice & broccoli.

Pot roast w/ carrots, potatoes & green beans.

Philly cheese steak w/ onion rings & slaw.

Lasagna w/ green beans

Guiso tacos w/ Spanish rice and beans.

Seared tuna salad.

Well, this was one eventful week. A big birthday, a short work week, and a trip to Aggieland made for quite a combination. This busy life of mine sometimes keeps me on my toes. I feel like I either have very little to put to the page or way too much for a single blog post—the latter being the case this time.

Here we go.

The week began with the 4th of July. Not just any 4th of July, but the USA’s 250th anniversary, no less. A rather important milestone.

In the grand timeline of world history, 250 years isn’t a lot of time. But for us humble little humans, it’s a significant stretch for a united country to endure the obstacles, challenges, and growing pains it has faced throughout its relatively short existence.

I do love my country. What we stand for is something truly special. Ideals such as freedom, democracy, and equality. A constitutional government that is supposed to protect the people’s civil liberties and human rights. All people having equal rights to life and the pursuit of happiness.

In the past, we even came to blows with our fellow Americans while upholding those ideals and making sure that all were equal. We nearly tore ourselves apart during the Civil War to preserve them. They are the foundation of our country, and without them, who are we even?

The 4th of July has always been a strange holiday for me. It fills me with pride, nostalgia, hope, and, lately, a fair amount of frustration. Loving your country doesn’t always mean loving the people running it

Our current leaders would do well to remembering what our country is,  because it feels like equal rights are currently being taken away from some groups within our country. Many on the far right do not seem to believe all people are equal—specifically those who differ from their own religious belief systems. The LGBTQ community has become a target for these whack-o bastards. They seem to forget that they share the same constitutional rights as everyone else.

I believe it is a fear-based attack. It often feels to me that fear of “the other” drives much of this rhetoric.  They hide behind religion in order to justify themselves, making them the biggest hypocrites of all. They have a scared little boy as their president, allowing them to push agendas against the LGBTQ community that are contrary to the fundamental beliefs upon which this great nation was built.

Let us not forget about all the immigrants who are currently in their sights. The majority of these people simply want to share in what makes this country so great—the liberties and pursuit of happiness they were unable to achieve in the countries they fled. They should be welcomed with open arms, but those pushing these policies fears them. Afraid to give them bread and share some wine. They seem to have forgotten that we are all human, no matter our differences. Skin color, beliefs, and backgrounds—all the same at heart. They should realize that what they do not want these immigrants to have is exactly what our country was founded upon. What our country fought hard for. We are a nation birthed by immigrants.

As I celebrate the 4th of July, I can’t help but feel some grief over how our current administration is shaming what our forefathers fought to achieve—how they are spitting on the Constitution more and more each day. I am not celebrating any of them. I despise them in ways I wasn’t aware I could despise other human beings.

What I celebrate on the 4th of July is the idealism of the United States. I celebrate our freedom. I know in my heart that we can be better and that we will once again be better. We are simply under bad leadership at the moment, but democracy grants us the ability to change as a nation, and I believe that the American spirit is strong enough to survive all the tainted marks this current administration has left upon our name.

A quote from Mark Twain sums up perfectly how I feel on the 4th of July.

“Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it.”

I support this great country and everything that it stands for, but our current government can go fuck themselves.

So, on the 4th of July, I woke up a free man and did what I was given the opportunity to do. Yvette was taking the little girl to her momma, who had left her in our care for the weekend while she was out of town—only to change her mind a day later and insist that we bring her back. Yeah, that’s ridiculous, I know. I got myself in trouble for saying as much. Oh well. I kept my mouth shut Saturday morning.

I wanted to beat the heat, so I reluctantly started working on the yard. It wasn’t even seven o’clock, and I was already burning up. Fucking summer.  I wasn’t able to top off the mower with fuel and figured I’d just try to finish the yard without running out of gas. Wouldn’t you know it—I ran out with only a small patch left to mow. Damn my luck… and my stubbornness. I quickly ran to get some gas and finished the job.

While cleaning up, I discovered a rather hostile threat—another fucking wasp nest. This one was hidden underneath our porch chair. The sneaky little bastards.

This aggression will not stand.

I wasn’t equipped with any wasp spray, so I had to improvise. A broom and a water hose would have to do.  I gathered my arsenal and went to war.

Flipping the chair with the broom, they immediately launched their offensive, but I was prepared. I blasted them with a jet of water, destroyed the nest, and won a decisive victory without suffering a single sting. The United States wasn’t the only thing celebrating a victory that day.

After my victory, I used the hose to hook up a sprinkler and water the grassy areas that I didn’t want the relentless heat and lack of rain to completely nuke. I don’t enjoy yard work, but I also don’t want everything to die on me. Once that was done, I officially declared my yard work finished for the day.

The rest of the morning was spent looking for some good cigars for Teegan. After striking out at a couple of places, I finally found a shop with a proper humidor.  Walking inside brought me back in time. I used to buy my father good cigars every year on his birthday. Looking through the selection, I found the same brand we used to enjoy together—Macanudo. I was tempted to buy one for myself, but I passed. Mostly because of the added expense.

Yvette made it home, and we had to make ourselves scarce for a few hours while Teegan took a college test. We ended up wandering around Hobby Lobby and—I swear—we browsed the aisles for over an hour.  I found things I didn’t even know you could buy there.  You can buy a single Mason jar. One. Uno. A solitary Mason jar. I’ve spent years buying twelve-packs when apparently Hobby Lobby has been quietly selling them one at a time this entire time. Where has this information been hiding?

When we were finally allowed back home, I made venison burgers for the 4th of July. That seemed like a very patriotic thing to do on the birthday of our great nation. They turned out really, really good, and I once again reminded myself just how much better venison tastes than beef.

The rest of the afternoon was spent celebrating liberty by watching France versus Paraguay in the World Cup from the comfort of my couch. That was followed by the obligatory viewing of Independence Day. A 4th of July without that movie playing would be blasphemy against our great nation.

That evening we made our way over to my in-laws’ house for an exceptional dinner. Roger had fired up the grill and put together a proper cookout. A plethora of barbecue. Of course he did—the good man.  Everyone was there. 

After leaving their house, we met up with Noah, Nadia, Niall, and a silly guy named Braden at my mother’s place to watch the fireworks. I didn’t want to stay long because it seemed like half the town had gathered in that area, but I ended up having a really good time. It had actually been a while since I’d watched the fireworks, and I genuinely enjoyed the evening.

Yvette pointed out that it was our first 4th of July together, and damned if she wasn’t right. I sure hope she reads this and sees that I admitted she was right.

At the end of the night, I watched Independence Day: Resurgence, the sequel that came out in 2016. It’s nowhere near as good as the original, but it’s still a fun movie, and it was nice seeing several returning actors from the first film.

Lord—that first movie came out thirty years ago.  I still remember seeing it in theaters back in 1996. Lord, I’m getting old.

Overall, I had a really good 4th of July.

Sunday morning I woke up around 8:30 and let Yvette sleep in while I started getting breakfast ready.  Huevos rancheros tacos.

I also decided to knock out some meal prep while I was at it. I fired up the grill, cooked the tortillas, and made the chorizo and black beans. The eggs could wait until Yvette woke up. Once everything else was ready, I crawled back into bed for a little while and waited for her to emerge from hibernation.

I really celebrated my freedom by doing just about nothing all day Sunday.  I played video games, watched the World Cup, and took Hazel over to my mother’s house to meet her new dog. They hit it off immediately. Afterward I came home, cooked dinner, and settled in for the Mexico versus England match.  It was special.  One of the best matches I’ve watched this tournament. Too bad England won.

Just before dusk, one hell of a dust storm rolled into town completely out of nowhere. Later that night we even received some much-needed rain. All in all, it was a perfect Sunday.

With the 4th of July behind me, I still had a full week ahead. Two days of work, and then it was off to Aggieland with Teegan and Yvette for orientation. I was really looking forward to the trip and just hoped those two workdays would move along quickly.

It was also my office week.  Thank the gods Seth was off on Monday.  That meant I could escape the office and cover his route instead.  A blessing I’ll gladly take.

It was a beautiful morning, and I absolutely thrived outside on the golf cart. I also found myself in a particularly chatty mood, stopping to have some genuinely enjoyable conversations with people all across campus.

That evening was the USA versus Belgium World Cup match. What a controversial game.  Not because of anything that happened on the field, but because of some bullshit my great country’s jackass crybaby president decided to pull. He has a remarkable ability to taint just about everything he touches.

Unfortunately, I think his meddling completely killed our soccer team. We were absolutely dismantled by Belgium and played our worst match of the tournament.  Hell, it might have been the worst performance of the entire World Cup so far.  Christ.  We looked like complete trash.  Maybe I’m being dramatic, but it honestly felt like the embarrassment our president dumped onto the country seeped right into the team. Fuck that fat orange bastard.

All I had to do now was make it through Tuesday, and I’d finally be free of the shackles of work. The morning was mostly dedicated to finishing my expense report, but damn if everyone in the office didn’t make that a chore. There was constant foot traffic, nonstop chatter, and enough noise to make concentrating nearly impossible.

To make matters worse, I had a mysterious transaction that refused to reconcile. My report and statement didn’t match, and I appeared to be missing a transaction somewhere. It took quite a bit of head-scratching before I finally figured out what had happened.

If so damn many people hadn’t been yapping away around me, I probably would have caught the problem much sooner. Fortunately, once I got through all that, the rest of the day was a breeze.

The work week was finally over. Next stop: College Station. Teegan’s next chapter was getting closer.

The drive to College Station… my lord. There doesn’t seem to be a direct route—it’s five hours of hopping from one highway to the next. I can’t say it’s a fun way to travel. This is only my second trip to the town, so maybe we’ll discover an easier way to get there eventually.

At this juncture, all I can say is: No sir, I don’t like it.

Before long, we were in College Station, making the rounds for orientation goodies—discounts, free T-shirts, and all the other items that seem to accompany these events. Never being much of a clothes-shopping kind of guy, I was mostly along for the ride. What mattered was that Yvette and Teegan were having a good time, and I have to admit, Teegan’s excitement was infectious.

This was a really special moment for him, the beginning of a new chapter, and seeing him so happy made the long drive worth it. I couldn’t have been a happier father.

The hotel was damn nice. It even came with a free dinner and three complimentary adult beverages. Who can beat that? Naturally, I enjoyed a little snack—and my three free drinks—even though we were about to meet Teegan’s future roommate and his mother at a place called Gumby’s for pizza.

Having already enjoyed my complimentary beverages, I was pleased to see his mother was enjoying an adult beverage herself when we arrived. It made for an easy, relaxed introduction as we shared pizza, conversation, and the excitement of two young men getting ready to begin the next chapter of their lives.

The pizza was fantastic, and we had a great time getting to know his mother. Well, I mostly just listened and let the mothers handle most of the conversation. Teegan and his future roommate were in their element, talking and laughing. Already having this kind friendship makes a new place feel a little more like home.

The next morning was orientation—a full-day event. I suppose I was fortunate not to have to tag along because, from what I could tell, it was an entire day devoted to Aggie doctrine, and I didn’t need to concern myself with it.

While they were busy being indoctrinated, I took Yvette’s car in for an oil change. After that, I headed back to one of the shops we’d visited the day before because we’d left without one of the items we’d paid for.

I came back to the hotel and lounged around, watching a little House of the Dragon before deciding to get something to eat. I had a craving for tacos and found a little local joint called Fuego’s Tortilla Grill. The reviews were good, and I was craving tacos, so I figured, why not?

I was immediately encouraged when I walked in and saw the staff was made up of chubby Hispanic women whose English was, at best, a work in progress. I know that sounds bad and I pointed out a stereotype but that’s almost always a good sign. This was the real deal.

I was a little overwhelmed by all the options, so I went with the limited-time special: the Ranch Hand. It came loaded with char-grilled chicken, chopped bacon, lettuce, pico de gallo, and ranch, all wrapped in a fresh, homemade flour tortilla. It was fantastic, and the salsa bar was astonishing.

Before heading back to the hotel, I decided to venture onto campus and find a parking spot near Teegan’s dorm. My boss had given me a helpful tip, and he was right. I found a parking lot just around the corner from Teegan’s future living space.

Back at the hotel, I went for a swim, watched the Spain–Morocco World Cup match—which France ended up winning—played a game on my Switch, and watched a little more House of the Dragon. All the while, orientation was wrapping up. I’d have to say it was a pretty relaxing afternoon, with nothing in particular I needed to do.

When six o’clock rolled around, I decided to head downstairs and take advantage of happy hour while I waited. I figured I might as well enjoy my three free drinks and grab a little something to eat. This hotel was incredibly generous to its guests. Between the complimentary food and drinks, the hour flew by before I knew it.

Yvette texted to let me know they weren’t coming back to pick me up after all. Instead, I was supposed to meet them at the Dixie Chicken. I hadn’t realized they’d gone there, but oh well.

The Dixie Chicken is one of the most famous hangouts in College Station, so I was excited to finally see it for myself. The place reminded me of an old dive bar I loved in Alpine, Texas, called the Railroad Blues. I immediately felt relaxed by the atmosphere.

I ordered a jalapeño burger and a large Shiner beer before meeting the rest of the orientation group, nine people in all. From the camaraderie they shared, it was obvious I’d missed out on an experience they had all gone through together that day.

After dinner, the soon-to-be college students decided to stick around for trivia while Yvette and I headed back to the hotel to enjoy a little time to ourselves.

The next morning was the meeting with Teegan’s advisor and class registration. I decided to attend this part because I wanted to get a feel for the department. I was immediately impressed. They were a small, tight-knit group, which I really liked, and his advisor genuinely seemed to care about her students.

She also saved us the trouble of going through registration with all the other orientation students by registering the small group of geology students right there on the spot. That meant we could leave about two hours earlier than expected.

Yay!! Time to hit the road.

Hope that you enjoyed the ride. I told you it was eventful.

Happy Friday!!

Jalapeño

Sticky rice with pan cooked cubbed ham and fried eggs.

Huevos rancheros tacos. Black beans, scrambled eggs, chorizo crumble, cotija cheese, cilantro, crème avacado, and hot sauce.

Steak fajitas.

Spaghetti and my grandmothers meatballs.

The week was a sleepy one. I’m pretty sure I only had one day where I felt well-rested enough to make it through without caffeine. There was plenty of soccer, the usual highs and lows at work, and I dragged my tired ass through every bit of it.

I started off Saturday feeling rested and ready for the weekend. First things first—breakfast. Nothing of note, just some damn good sausage and egg breakfast tacos. Sometimes simplicity is exactly what I’m craving, and this is about as comforting as breakfast gets.

That morning I took Hazel with me across town to visit my mother’s dog, Molly. My mom was taking the kids to Austin, meeting my brother halfway, so she was worried Molly would be lonely. Hazel was more than happy to keep her company. She was also perfectly content with the ride over. I love watching her with her head out the window, just taking in all the smells. The simple joys of a dog make me envious sometimes. No bills. No worrying about tomorrow. No bullshit. Just open windows, new smells, and the excitement of another car ride.

I got a heads-up from Yvette that Zips was giving away free car washes. I had nothing better to do, so why the hell not? To my surprise, it wasn’t very busy. I only had to wait about five minutes before going through the wash. Of course, the kid drying my car didn’t put forth as much effort as he probably would have otherwise because they had to keep the line moving. No one needs a pileup.

I decided I wanted a steak from the Mexican market, but before doing so, Yvette and I made a trip to Walmart in search of a toddler bed. Alaya has to start sleeping on her own, and we’re hoping this will do the trick. Lola really shouldn’t have started letting the little girl sleep with her every night because now she needs someone by her side; otherwise, she cries.

At the market, there was some police activity. Not really a surprise—it’s a fairly common thing on the north side of town, unfortunately. I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on since most of the conversation was in Spanish. Yvette heard something about loitering. Who knows? The store manager had called the police.

Inside the store, one of the officers couldn’t find anyone willing to help translate for him, so Yvette did her good deed for the day and helped interpret. I stood off to the side, watching the very grateful police officer and the assistant store manager. The officer just wanted to file his report and move on, and the poor girl was very nervous about providing any information. They were incredibly grateful, and I was once again reminded why I love my wife so damn much. Helping someone in a stressful situation is just who she is.

After that little adventure, we worked together assembling the bed. I have to say, it was rather enjoyable. Our back-and-forth banter while deciphering the instructions was both funny and, if I’m being honest, rather sexy. Weird thing to say? Maybe. Do I care? Not really. Anyway, it took about half the time it would have if we’d been working on it alone. I like putting things together, and she seemed to as well. What a team!

By that evening, I picked up Hazel before firing up the grill. Yvette picked up Alaya. When she came home, she was so excited to have a bed. Yes, it was hers. She seemed absolutely amazed by that. I really hope she accepts it as a suitable place to get some shut-eye.

Well… the shut-eye didn’t work.

Sunday morning, I woke up on the couch because one little girl wasn’t going to let me catch any Zzzs. Hey, at least I did get some sleep.

Since I woke up early, I decided to go all out on breakfast. I wanted to surprise Yvette. Cream cheese-stuffed jalapeños wrapped in bacon, grilled potato hash browns, and fried eggs. A treat for Yvette. She’d been asking me to make stuffed peppers for her. “Nagging” is a harsh word when, in reality, she simply wanted me to make them. I think she was rather happy with me when she woke up.

Hours passed, and suddenly lunch was upon us. Yvette’s parents had us over for chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, and dinner rolls. I passed on the rolls. I was already a bloated mess.

After that, I went grocery shopping. Yay. Good Lord, has my life become such a routine? I think it has.

When I got home, I grilled some chicken legs for meal prep while Yvette took a little nap. Naturally, more World Cup followed. Canada beat South Africa in a rather boring game. Nothing is worse than boring soccer.

I finally finished my graphic novel, Providence, by Alan Moore and Jacen Burrows. As I’ve mentioned in a past blog, the novel is heavily inspired by H.P. Lovecraft. I am a BIG Lovecraft nerd. I eat that material up. I’ve read everything he’s written. Lovecraftian fiction is the best kind of fiction—be it literature or film. There were so many Easter eggs along the way that even my nerdy ass surely missed some. One of the greatest joys I had while reading Providence was recognizing exactly which Lovecraft story a particular scene was referencing.

I thoroughly enjoyed following the protagonist, Robert Black, on his journey through New England and all of his mysterious Lovecraftian encounters. The structure of the novel was unusual and, at times, challenging. The first half of each chapter is exactly what you’d expect from a graphic novel—beautiful artwork paired with dialogue. The second half, however, is presented as Robert’s handwritten diary. At first, the handwriting can be difficult to decipher, but it gradually becomes easier to read as you grow accustomed to it. It may have slowed the pacing a little, but it also gave tremendous insight into Robert’s thoughts and revealed just how often he misunderstood what was really happening around him.

There were some genuinely horrifying moments that were difficult to endure. Quite possibly one of the sickest things I’ve ever seen put to paper occurs around the midpoint of the story. I won’t get into the details, but it involves rape—just not in a way any sane person could imagine. After finishing that chapter, I found myself wondering how Alan Moore ever conceived such a thing and what Jacen Burrows must have gone through trying to illustrate it.

By the time I reached the ending, I realized there was no other way this story could have concluded. It was bleak, brutal, and completely uncompromising. I was glad Moore resisted the temptation to give readers a happier ending because it would have felt cheap and dishonest after everything that came before. I wasn’t quite ready to leave that world behind. I wish there was more to read. When I closed the book, I just sat there for a minute trying to process everything I’d just read. That’s usually a good sign.

Monday was full of exciting soccer. Poor Japan lost to Brazil—expected. Germany lost to Paraguay in penalty kicks—unexpected and sad. It was just an exciting damn day, and I was almost too zapped to enjoy it all. I hate Mondays.

That night it was a full house—unexpectedly so. It looked like we were hosting a party with all the vehicles outside. I grilled a lot of steaks, and my in-laws and Lola’s friend Zander came over. Lola bought the steaks. It had been a while since she’d shared a meal with us. I was utterly exhausted but still managed to have a good time.

The next day I had a training I’d been putting off for weeks: Golf Cart Safety. I was tired from another night with a toddler kicking me in the face, and it was due by five o’clock. What a crock of shit. I guess I was one of the last people who hadn’t completed it. Of course. I figured I could skip the course and go straight to the quiz. I mean, I’ve been taking this every other year for fifteen years.

Well, I was wrong. They decided to get tricky with the questions this go-round, and I failed my first attempt by one question. I needed an eighty and scored a seventy-five. Bummer. Turns out I wasn’t the only one who skipped straight to the quiz and had to retake it. It was much more technical this go-round and relied far less on common sense.

An annoyance, but I finished it around 4:20 Tuesday afternoon.

Hump Day arrived, and I was out of the office for most of it, paying tabs all over town. At least it made the day fly by. Nothing is worse than being confined to the office with nothing to work on while trying to pass the time.

That night, Yvette and I actually had an empty house. That’s a rare thing these days. I put on the USA–Bosnia World Cup match and started cooking. I wanted to make something different for our unexpected little date night. I even picked up dessert for her—a key lime cup with strawberry drizzle. It was a relaxing evening, capped off by one hell of a win for the USA.

I have to say, winning that game right before the nation’s 250th birthday on July 4th is one hell of a patriotic moment for the country at a time when many of us haven’t been feeling especially proud of our government.. The World Cup has reminded me that despite our differences, the world can still come together for something great. We just need to look beyond all the bullshit.

Anyway, what a damn good night we had.

As I was making my rounds around town on Thursday, it became very apparent that most of the shops in town would be closed on Friday, July 3rd. Unlike the university where I work. For whatever damn reason, we would remain open. Bummer of a deal. I guess I’m not really surprised. Class is in session, and if the students are around, then so are we. What was also apparent was that I’d better bring something to pass the time on Friday if I wasn’t going to be out and about.

That afternoon, it seemed I’d finally hit my spending limit. I tried to make a purchase for more than $800, and my card was declined. So fucking what. The business knows me from the university and can accept payment next week since they’ll be closed. Sometimes life just enjoys throwing one more minor inconvenience onto the pile.

After work, Yvette and I took Alaya to the pool. That was the first thing she said when we arrived home. Her momma was going to be gone all weekend, so we might as well start things off on a high note. With her nice new floaties, she could move around the pool freely—and boy, has she become quite the swimmer. She kicked around, and before we knew it, about two hours had passed. We needed to get out of there and make some dinner.

Friday I awoke early again to a kick in the face. How do people get sleep with a restless little body thrashing about? Do they become used to it? I don’t know if I can. With another sleepless night, I started to wonder if the couch wasn’t the best place for me on the nights when she shares our bed. The struggle to get her comfortable sleeping in her own bed is real. She does fall asleep on it, but she wakes up crying and crawls in with Yvette and me. Is this how my grandparents felt? Did my grandfather keep a journal, and did he complain about the nights when I crawled into bed and woke them up? Is this why he slept in the guest room?

The day was indeed slow. It seemed that most of the campus had taken the day off, and since all the local businesses that I deal with were closed, I had nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs. I made a few golf cart trips across campus just to pass the time. Parking lots were vacant. The collective thought among all of us goons still sticking around on campus was, “Why are we here?” The answer is because the students—the very few of them around—were having finals. When the students are active, so must we be. By the time five o’clock finally rolled around, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Another week in the books. I may have spent most of it exhausted, but I can’t complain too much. I suppose a lot of my blog might be complaints. Oh well. There was good food, good soccer, good company, and enough laughter to make the sleepless nights a little easier to tolerate. Life doesn’t always have to be exciting to be worth writing about. Sometimes it’s the ordinary weeks that remind you just how lucky you really are. Now let’s just hope next week’s blog contains one thing this one desperately lacked—a full night’s sleep.

Happy Friday!!

Jalapeño

Sausage egg breakfast tacos.

Fried eggs, bacon stuffed peppers and hash browns.

Mexican market steak.

Mole chicken thighs.

New York Strip.

BBQ pork tenderloin medallions with grilled okra and corn on the cob.

Sweet whisky glazed pork tenderloin medallions with carrots and Brussel sprout.

Italian sausage fettuccine alfredo.

Sesame chicken.

I’m going to try something different this week. This blog will have an introduction—a short reflection before diving into everything that followed. Maybe it works. Maybe it doesn’t. Either way, I’d love to hear your feedback.

————————————————————————

Some weeks quietly drift by without much to write home about. This wasn’t one of them. It was a week filled with family, soccer, good meals, laughter, birthdays, birdwatching, dragons, and an all-out war. Life managed to keep things interesting from beginning to end, proving that even the most ordinary weeks can take an unexpected turn. Looking back now, I’m just grateful I came out of it with all my fingers still attached.

Let’s rewind the week.

I awoke with a grogginess on Saturday morning that was to be expected after a night with all the brothers. The time was well worth it, despite my current self-inflicted illness. I needed a little cure, so I made my way to the kitchen. I warmed up some tortillas and leftover chorizo and potatoes, chopped cilantro and jalapeño, and fried up an egg. A delicious breakfast taco and a cup of coffee did the trick, alleviating my burdensome grogginess.

Afterward, I got myself in gear and watched some more World Cup soccer—Norway versus Sweden. I’m telling you, it’s one of the most exciting sporting events on Earth, and I take full advantage of it by not missing many matches if I can help it. Some might consider it lazy, but it only happens every four years. I’d be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t try to catch as many games as possible.

After watching Norway beat the hell out of Sweden, I decided to bring Hazel over to my mom’s to visit her friends. It had been years since she’d been around my brother’s dog, Billie. Of course, they both had to put on a little show and establish dominance. Silly dogs. After that little performance was over, I felt comfortable leaving them with my mother.

My brothers and nephews were at the pool, so I met them there in the heat of summer. While they swam around in the sun, I ordered a beer under the cover of the cabana and watched more soccer—Germany versus Ivory Coast. Eventually, they came out of the water and joined me. I helped them eat a few cheese fries before departing back to my mother’s house, where it was cool.

When I made it back home, I didn’t realize I would soon be going to war.

Deciding to give our new transplants a really thorough watering, I went to the hose spigot. When I reached for it beneath a low-hanging palm branch, I brushed up against an unseen threat. A nest—and my hand was immediately swarmed by wasps, and a searing pain washed over me unlike anything I can remember experiencing before. The bastards pulled a blitzkrieg on me.

I swatted the bastards from my hand and probably made a damn fool of myself trying to get away. Lord knows what obscenities flew from my mouth in that moment. It was multiple stings—multiple stings. I counted four, though later the true number would be revealed. Good Lord, did it hurt like hell.

I told Yvette, and she suggested meat tenderizer. Apparently, it works on jellyfish stings. Fuck it—it was worth a try. The result? I smelled like a steak—but I was still in pain. The swelling was already beginning to take hold.

I scoured the medicine cabinet, desperately looking for Benadryl. I had been stung by wasps many times in my youth, so I knew I wasn’t allergic, but never had I taken that many stings at once, especially in such a localized area. I found myself worried about that amount of venom.

Once I was able to calm down and the pain began to subside, it was time for some retaliation. I armed myself with a bottle of poison and went on the offensive. I wasn’t even sure exactly where they were located at that moment. I couldn’t see the nest, so I began firing away blindly into the general area—and got results. The cowardly bastards began fleeing, and there were a lot of them.

The motherfuckers must pay.

That night was little Alaya’s second birthday party. We held it at the Goodfellow Rec Camp swimming pool. It had originally been scheduled for the municipal pool, but they were closed for repairs. My hand was a swollen mess, and everyone wanted to shake it, as is the polite thing to do. I also had to explain what had happened without looking like a complete wuss, making sure to emphasize that it wasn’t just one wasp, but multiple wasps.

My swollen, aching hand aside, the party was actually a real blast. I was surrounded by both sides of my family. My brother Chris brought along a cooler full of beer, which served the adults nicely. Well, really just my side of the family. What can I say? We like to drink. I mean, really, a little alcohol is needed at a two-year-old’s birthday party—for sanity’s sake.

My nephew Patrick might have had the most fun of the lot. Once he saw that slide, he was sold. The kid who hadn’t even planned on swimming suddenly didn’t want to get out of the pool. He went up and down that slide so many times I lost track. He swam from ladder to ladder, timing himself to see how long it took. He was in the water for at least an hour and a half.

It was a heartwarming thing to behold. I told myself at that moment that I would go by my mother’s house every day they were in town.

The birthday girl was also very content. Alaya discovered some new floaties that really allowed her the freedom to move around on her own. It was cute as can be watching her newfound independence in the water. She’s really become a pretty good swimmer. I guess she’s getting a lot of practice at her mama’s new boyfriend’s house. As much as I dislike her being over there, at least she’s spending time with her mom and learning new things.

The turnout was also very good. The food was excellent. The company was great. A real treat. We had a good time.

Sunday was both Father’s Day and the Summer Solstice—a bummer of a deal.

It was a sad day for me for two reasons. One, I miss my father. Two, I fucking hate summer. The forecast for the week looked absolutely brutal, with consistent temperatures above 100 degrees. Fuck summer.

The day was also a bummer because the kids no longer have a father. I know that must be hard on them every day, but especially on Father’s Day.

I decided to make something special for breakfast on Father’s Day. I am a stepfather, right? I made biscuits and gravy, but with the gravy I first cooked some chorizo for flavor and then added sausage for heartiness and texture. The end product was spicy and unbelievably flavorful. I topped the buttery biscuits with gravy, a sunny-side-up egg, grilled jalapeño, and fresh cilantro. A true Father’s Day brunch.

Later that morning, Alaya opened all of her gifts from the night before. She wound up with a pretty decent haul. Lots of the gifts were more on the practical side, which was great. She already has enough toys to open a shop. We really need to try and downsize a bit—maybe donate some to children in need.

Afterward, I drove out to my mother’s house to hang out with my brothers before they hit the road. My nephews were sticking around for a week, so they lounged around the house without much urgency. We watched the Spain–Saudi Arabia World Cup match, with Spain utterly blowing Saudi Arabia away. It was a brutal 4–0 beating.

I said goodbye to my brothers and departed for my in-laws’.

When I got there, I was treated to lunch. I hadn’t expected to be fed, but my father-in-law had made brisket, potatoes, and beans. How could I resist the man’s brisket? It’s by far some of the best I’ve ever had. We ate and chatted for a couple of hours before I left to run the usual Sunday errands. Oh, the joy.

After errands, I prepped for dinner—pizza and wings—and went out to my mother’s house to see how she and my nephews were doing. The kids hadn’t left the house at all. I suppose my mom was surviving—maybe a little frayed around the edges, but that’s to be expected.

That night it was dinner and more soccer. Teegan watched House of the Dragon, which reminded me that I need to catch up. I want to be able to watch one last show with him before he leaves for college. Jesus, I am going to miss him. I will miss our conversations and the general good vibes he brings into the house.

Overall, it was a good way to wind down before the encroaching week.

Monday my hand was still swollen from the wasps, so I made plans to go to the clinic. Some urgency was pushed upon me by Yvette. Bless her for being in my life.

First things first—before the clinic, I went into work to get a game plan together for the week. With Troy back, I had to lay out everyone’s duties for the days ahead. After getting things moving, I caught up on everything I hadn’t finished on Friday. Then it was time for medical attention.

The clinic is on campus, so it didn’t take me more than a minute or two to get there. I was expecting to have to wait a while, but they got me into a room almost immediately. The nurse ran the usual tests, and the doctor showed up shortly afterward. It didn’t take him long to conclude that I had cellulitis, an infection beneath the skin. I had eight fucking wasp stings—let that sink in. Good Lord. No wonder it hurt so damn badly and was so swollen.

The doctor ran some tests and decided to give me a nice long needle in the ass, jump-starting treatment before prescribing an antibiotic regimen of four doses a day. I was told to keep my hand elevated as much as possible and keep a close eye on the swelling. The concern was that it could spread to my elbow, and if that happened, I was to head to the ER immediately. If that scenario presented itself, I would likely need to be hospitalized.

All because of some motherfucking wasps.

Now I was worried about losing a damn limb. Being diabetic added another layer of worry. The doctor gave me the option of a note excusing me from work, but I decided to go in anyway. What else was I going to do? The pain wasn’t going to disappear at home, and I wasn’t going to stop worrying about the very real possibility that I could be screwed. I might as well keep myself occupied and prevent my mind from dwelling on my hand.

God—it was a terribly long Monday.

I really felt like the pressure from the swelling was going to tear my skin open. It was uncomfortable, painful, and beginning to itch like crazy. Damn those fucking wasps. Who knew those little bastards would bring me such lasting grief? I reminded myself that once I got home, I needed to make sure I finished the job and murdered every last one of the little bastards.

While everyone was at lunch, I watched the Argentina–Austria World Cup match. I had a few friends at the game cheering on Argentina, so I was excited to see what they would do. That team boasts one of the greatest soccer players of all time, and during the match he made World Cup history by scoring more goals in the tournament than anyone else ever has. What a thing for my friends to witness. It ended in a 2–0 win for Argentina.

That night I began watching House of the Dragon. Being such a big Game of Thrones nerd, I’m really not sure why I’m only now starting a prequel series that first aired in 2022. I suppose the fact that it was a prequel—and that I already knew how things would eventually turn out—gave me some hesitation. Also, at the time of its release, it felt a little too soon after GoT’s finale to jump back into that epic world.

What I discovered was that waiting seven years since that series finale was apparently the perfect amount of time. I thoroughly enjoyed jumping back into the world, especially after the little taste I’d gotten from A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms earlier this year. I thought I would be put off by a story focused primarily on the Targaryens, but I was thankfully wrong. Sure, keeping track of all the names can be a challenge when half the cast seems to share the same family tree, but by the second episode I was getting the hang of it.

And honestly, there’s something nice about coming to a show late. No waiting years between seasons, no dodging spoilers online, and no cliffhangers hanging over my head for months at a time. Just two full seasons sitting there, waiting to be binged whenever I felt like it.

Tuesday I woke up with some relief. I could make a fist. The swelling hadn’t completely gone down, but at least my hand no longer looked like an overinflated rubber glove. Thank the Lord for that small favor. Work was much easier with two functioning hands, and the day stayed busy enough to keep the hours moving. Before I knew it, it was five o’clock.

After work it was off to my mother’s house to visit with her and my nephews. Really, it’s mostly visiting with her. The boys are too into their games to really call it visiting. It’s a little bit of this and a little bit of that here and there. I get it. That’s being a kid.

I don’t think “visiting” is really an activity many kids willingly participate in, and that’s fine. It’s more about my presence and simply hanging out with them. I really wish I could see them more often than I do, but it’s not so easy when they live six hours away. At least I have this week—and I’ll take what I can get.

That night Yvette and I watched a sweet little rom-com called Voicemails for Isabelle. It touched all the feelings one expects from comfort food cinema: warmth, lighthearted joy, hopeful optimism, and heartbreaking sorrow mixed in for good measure. I thought it was a brilliant film with a well-written script and great performances from actors unfamiliar to me.

The movie is very much in the spirit of You’ve Got Mail, which it even acknowledges itself. The older sister leaves messages on her deceased sister’s voicemail as a form of therapy, only to discover that the phone number has been reassigned as a work phone for a real estate agent. He listens to the messages and eventually becomes infatuated with her. Using what he learns from the voicemails, he gradually weasels his way into her life. Yes, it’s morally wrong. Everyone watching the movie and everyone in the movie is fully aware of this, but you know how rom-coms work. Eventually, love finds a way.

I realized that evening that Tuesday was the only day I didn’t watch a single World Cup match.

Wednesday—three days later—my damn hand was still swollen. Can you fucking believe that?

At least I could finally use it normally again. Eight wasp stings and a case of cellulitis were one hell of a reminder that nature occasionally chooses violence. I made sure to revisit the battleground to finish the job, taking out the survivors of the initial attack and thoroughly destroying the nest. I was just thankful the antibiotics were doing their job and that I still had my hand attached. Needless to say, I’ll be giving that palm tree a wide berth from now on—and I’m a lot more aware of my surroundings.

A little more birdwatching entertained me while trekking back and forth across campus on Wednesday. A few notable encounters I didn’t mention in my last note include the Rock Pigeon, House Finch, Blue Jay, Turkey Vulture, and Mississippi Kite. At least four sightings of Blue Jays… and a rather unique encounter with the Kite—I witnessed two of them mating in a tree above campus. What a sight to see.

For lunch on Thursday, Yvette and I decided to dine out. We were both craving salads, and we had narrowed it down to two contenders. The winner was Angelo Ale House. They have a university discount and a salad we hadn’t yet tried that was supposed to be amazing. Well, it’ll have to wait. Once we arrived, they were told they were completely out of lettuce. When you walk into a pizza joint craving a salad and they’re out of lettuce—well, there’s really only one thing to do. You leave.

Our second choice was Joe’s Italian. They have a house salad we’ve enjoyed every time we’ve ordered it. Loaded with large cubes of ham, salami, and mozzarella, it’s topped with tomatoes, sweet red peppers, pepperoncini peppers, and both green and black olives—not to mention that incredible house dressing. It’s a mouthwatering affair all on its own. I’d say it’s one of the best salads I’ve had in a long time. We were just meant to go to Joe’s.

That afternoon I watched the Germany–Ecuador World Cup match, and it turned out to be one of the better games I’ve watched so far. I expected Germany to control it from the opening whistle, but the two teams battled back and forth the entire match. Then, with only about ten minutes remaining, Ecuador found the winner to make it 2–1. Tough break for the Germans.

That evening, more soccer. The main event. A late game. The USA against Turkey. Christ almighty. Teegan and I watched it. The team had several lineup changes, and this felt like the match that could define this generation of American soccer. The U.S. has been slacking for years when it comes to scoring. Our country still doesn’t seem to treat it like a real sport. I suppose it’s because we didn’t create it so it can’t be real. Fucking USA mentality sometimes. Hell, we’re one of the few countries that call the sport soccer and not football.

Anyways, the game was a fantastic nail-biter. The USA dominated the first half of the game. Of course, we destroy ourselves and then end up losing in the final stretch. Literally the final kick, with no time left. How the fuck did we let that happen?! Turkey scored on the final kick to win 3–2. A real damn bummer to have stayed up so late to watch them lose, but what a game it was to behold. In spite of the loss, they still have enough points to advance to the next level. May their resolve strengthen. At least Teegan and I had fun together.

By Friday, the swelling had finally retreated, and my hand was beginning to look like my own again. Who would have thought it would take an entire week to recover from my battle with that dreaded wasp hive? I might have won the war, but the scars of that battle will linger for a long time. I’ll never forget the pain—or the price—of our hostilities. If there was one lesson to take away from it all, it’s this: always pay attention to your surroundings. You never know when an enemy is lying in wait, ready to launch an ambush.

Once the workday was over, Yvette, Teegan, and I met up with my mother and nephews for dinner at Bonsai Garden for some hibachi. I was thrilled not to have to cook for a change. By week’s end, sometimes you just don’t want to be in the damn kitchen—you want someone else to do the cooking. It was also nice to enjoy the show that comes with a Japanese steakhouse. I could see the wonder in my nephews’ eyes as the chef worked his magic. It was a wonderful way to spend one last evening with them before they headed home.

Honestly, it was the perfect conclusion to the week. I could finally use chopsticks again now that my hand had returned to normal. I had one last meal with my nephews before they left town, surrounded by the people I love most. That coming together of our families means a great deal to me. Good food, laughter, family, and soccer—the perfect ingredients to close out one heck of a week.

Happy Friday!!

Jalapeño

Chorizo potato taco with a fried egg.

Chorizo and sausage gravy over biscuits & sunny side egg with cilantro and grilled red jalapeno

Pulled pork stuffed baked potato.

Grilled chicken, bell peppers, and onions over queso smothers spas oh rice.

Steak fajita bowl with copycat Chuy’s jalapeño white sauce.

Pesto ground pork sausage ravioli.